Bystanders, most in shock, not believing what they had just witnessed, started to gather, the stunned silence that had filled the busy street corner in the immediate aftermath of the large sedan slamming into the building slowly transforming into excited chatter.

It was Mike who started to move first, pain in his left wrist rousing him from the brief disassociation that had overcome him when he had slid off the hood of the car as it struck the building and tumbled to the hard concrete of the sidewalk. Luckily he had gotten himself high enough to avoid being pinned between the grill and the wall, but he had landed hard on his outstretched left hand and a blinding pain had shot up his arm. Instinctively he had curled into a foetal position, protecting himself from the shards of glass raining down and cradling the injured limb that had immediately started to swell. When the glass finally stopped falling, he lay still, taking stock, hoping he had avoided any further injury.

Then he remembered his partner; had he reacted in time to push Steve safely out of the way? Gritting his teeth, he tried to sit up, discovering more parts of his body that started to protest. His left hip was aching, as was his back, but the pain wasn't enough to prevent him from struggling to his knees and then to his feet, leaning against the fender of the car as he continued to cradle his left forearm. He heard the crunch of footsteps on broken glass and felt a hand on his right elbow, and looked up into the concerned eyes of an elderly Chinese man who smiled at him encouragingly.

He nodded his thanks as he straightened up, trying not to grimace too noticeably. The crumpled hood of the car, the engine no longer running but steam escaping from the punctured radiator, stood between him and where he assumed his partner had fallen. He started to push his way through the crowd that had moved closer to the car, leaning towards the open windows in an attempt to see the driver, who was still behind the wheel.

"Steve!" Mike bellowed as loudly as he could as he pushed his way through the spectators milling around the trunk of the car.

"Move back, please! Move back!"

Mike could hear the commanding voice override everything else and he knew at least one of the patrolmen who called Chinatown their beat had made his way to their location. The crowd almost reluctantly parted and, as Mike slowly circled the trunk, still not catching sight of his partner, he felt another strong hand grab his elbow, pulling him to a stop.

"Lieutenant!" he heard the startled voice in his ear and he spared a brief glance in the patrolman's direction. "Sir, are you okay?" He could see the young cop's eyes flick down to the left arm cradled against his body.

"I'm fine," he almost spat out, pulling out of the concerned hold and pressing forward. "My partner…" He gestured with his chin towards the other side of the car as he circled the back fender. Peering past the people who were leaning into the back window of the wrecked car he could see Steve, covered in small shards of glass, sprawled on the sidewalk. His arms and legs were moving and Mike allowed himself a split second of relief as he pushed through the gawkers and started to kneel over his partner. He could see a small pool of blood on the concrete beneath the younger man's head as Steve tried to sit up.

"Don't move, don't move," Mike said quickly, letting go of his injured wrist and pushing Steve back down. "You hit your head. You're bleeding."

Still stunned, Steve allowed himself to be pushed down onto the cold and wet concrete. Mike's eyes raked his body.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Blinking several times as if trying to clear his mind, Steve's eyes eventually focused on the face hovering over him and shook his head. "I, ah… I don't think so." He raised his right hand and touched the back of his head, wincing. He brought his hand in front of his face and stared at the blood on his fingers for a long beat before looking at his partner again.

"Just… stay there," Mike ordered softly, patting the younger man's chest before he cradled his broken wrist again and started to get to his feet. Steve reached up and grabbed his right sleeve, stopping him. "Are you okay?"

Finding a smile, Mike nodded sharply. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little stiff." With an almost sheepish shrug, he struggled back to his feet, turning to try to locate the patrolman. Somewhere on the fringes of his awareness he could hear the wail of a siren growing louder.

"Officer!" he yelled, mildly surprised when the uniformed patrolman suddenly popped up on the other side of the car; he had obviously been leaning into the passenger side window, checking on the driver.

"Yes, sir," the street cop answered quickly, hurrying around the car to Mike's side. "Back-up and a couple of ambulances are on the way," he continued without waiting for the lieutenant to respond. He took Mike's right elbow again. "Sir, I think you should sit down." He shooed the people still crowding around the driver's side door away from the car and pulled the older man the couple of steps towards the rear door. "Here," he said as they stopped beside the door and for a split second Mike thought the patrolman was going to open it and insist he sit on the back seat. But instead the cop nodded at the sidewalk. "Sit here… that way I can keep an eye on all three of you till the ambulances gets here."

Realizing what the patrolman was suggesting, and the pain in his wrist, hip and back getting worse by the moment, he nodded softly and began to fold up to sit on the cold, wet concrete. Half way down, the young cop grabbed his right arm. "Wait, wait," he said sharply, releasing his grip and disappearing around to the other side of the car. He was back seconds later with Mike's topcoat. "I think this is yours, right?" he chuckled as he folded the thick black wool coat in half and laid it on the concrete. If Mike was concerned about the welfare of his coat, he didn't show it as he slowly lowered himself onto it and leaned back against the car door.

As the patrolman stepped away, trying to keep the growing crowd from encroaching on their space again, Mike looked over at Steve, who was lying still with his eyes closed. Letting his own eyes shut as he laid the back of his head against the cold metal of the car door, gritting his teeth against the pain in his wrist, Mike allowed himself to finally take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he started to come to grips with how close they had both come to being taken out in a simple car accident. If it was simply an accident…

After several beats, as the wail of the first siren was joined by another, both getting closer by the second, he snorted softly and shook his head. He realized he hadn't even bothered to check on the welfare of the driver, who was obviously injured or they would have exited the car by now. Luckily, that job was now out of his hands; he didn't know whether to feel relieved or guilty.

One of the sirens wobbled down into silence and he heard car doors open then heavy, hurried footsteps approach. There was a brief silence, then shouts to move the bystanders further back and the sound of shuffling as the curious throng complied. A second siren died as an engine was turned off and almost before he knew it, an ambulance attendant was kneeling by his side. Mike opened his eyes and turned his head.

A youngish, dark-haired man smiled at him from under a furrowed brow. "How are you doing, sir?" he asked, his eyes taking professional stock of his patient. "Where are you hurt?"

Mike stared at him silently for a long second, as if trying to pull his thoughts together, then his eyes briefly dropped to the nametag on the medic's beige shirt: Graham. He didn't know if it was a first or last name and an incongruous smile briefly curled his lips. Eventually he looked down at his lap. "I think I broke my arm."

Graham reached for the obviously swollen limb, gently removing it from the hand that was cradling it against its owner's stomach. "Yeah, you sure did," he said softly as he flashed a brief, encouraging smile at the obviously distressed older man. "Let's just get this button undone…" he whispered, trying to gently undo the cuff of Mike's dress shirt, "that'll help with the swelling."

Task accomplished, he smiled once more. "Here," he said, holding the broken forearm as if it was an offering. "I need to get some stuff out of my bag."

His foggy mind taking a beat longer than normal to recognize what was being asked, Mike slid his right hand under his left again. As he listened to Graham opening and rooting through the small kit he had brought with him, he turned his head slowly. Another ambulance attendant was kneeling beside Steve, who was now sitting up and leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant, his eyes closed. The medic was just about to wrap a dressing around the injured inspector's head.

"We're gonna need to get that jacket off, sir," Graham said quietly, and put his hand on Mike's shoulder, pulling him away from the door. Mike leaned forward as best he could, and Graham slipped the jacket off his right arm first then carefully off the left, being especially gentle as he slipped the injured limb through the sleeve.

After that it didn't take long for a temporary splint to be applied and a sling slipped over Mike's head, then the lieutenant was helped to his feet and escorted to the waiting ambulance, where he sat on one of the gurneys.

Steve's head had been bandaged, but he was still sitting against the wall. He looked ashen and confused, but he managed to get up with the help of the medic and was making his way slowly towards the ambulance.

Graham was back at the car leaning in the driver's window, assessing the injuries to the driver. Mike, watching his partner's slow progress towards the ambulance, realized he was still unaware of the injuries suffered by the driver, but that also, for the moment, he really didn't care. He knew, from long experience, that he would feel regret for that later, but right now he was still angry that both he and the young man walking unsteadily towards him had been put through such a terrifying ordeal.

A second ambulance pulled to the curb beside the first and both medics got out, quickly approaching the car. Graham pulled his head out of the driver's window and spoke with one of his colleagues then started towards his own vehicle as the other man took his place.

Still unsteady, Steve had been helped up into the back of the ambulance and sat slowly and carefully on the other gurney. He looked awful. Mike was staring at him worriedly when Graham climbed up into the back. He immediately moved to Steve and put his hands on the young cop's shoulder. "Here, lie down," he said firmly, and Steve offered no resistance as he was lowered onto the gurney. Graham helped raise his legs, all the while under the watchful and worried eyes of his partner.

Graham slammed the back doors and the engine turned over and the ambulance started away, the siren wailing to life. With an encouraging smile, Graham sat beside Mike on the gurney. The older man looked at him. "How's is he?" he asked quietly.

Graham glanced at Steve. "I think he'll be okay. He took quite a shot to the head though."

Mike smiled slightly and nodded, grateful for the reassurance, but then he shook his head. "No, I meant the driver."

"Oh! Ah, well, ah… she, ah… her forehead hit the steering wheel and she's got quite the gash but she'll be okay."