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Mike had slowly been coming back around, the throbbing headache made worse by the strange smells and sounds emanating from around him. The thick humid air carried a distinctive odor of cinnamon mixed with something spicy. In the background, he heard a pot eagerly boiling away, while the pitter-patter of rain drops from a tin roof above didn't go along with the comfortable warmth he felt in every part of his body.
Groaning slightly, he tried to open one eye, surprised at the relative darkness in the room he was in. Perched on a bamboo-type cot, it took his groggy mind several minutes to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.
A wool blanket was draped over his body, smelling of old cigarette smoke and a distinctive need of washing.
Steve.
The name made his heart race faster as he fully woke up, instinctively taking in every detail of the small room. Sitting up in his cot and with no electrical lighting to help, he had to rely on the dim rays coming from the adjacent area to find his way around.
Mike quickly realized that the strange odor was coming from his hands, where thin bandages were covering the cuts on his fingers; cuts he'd given himself when trying to free his partner. At the bottom of the cot, his black overcoat, grey dress coat and fedora were neatly stacked awaiting their owner.
Finally, on a second cot a few feet over, he saw the still figure of his partner. His hands were tied together and a light green cloth covered his eyes, the eerie sight startling Mike for a moment.
"Steve!", he whispered urgently, not surprised when he didn't receive a response.
Slowly standing up, it took several seconds for the world to stop spinning in front of his eyes until he dared to move again.
As Mike made his way to the other cot, he noticed that his partner's injured leg was elevated on a pillow, a thick bandage wrapped around the area where the sharp teeth of the foot trap had dug into his flesh.
"Steve!", he tried again and crouched down beside the young Inspector, growing worried and confused at the sight of his restrained hands compared to his own freedom. Alarmed, when he placed the back of his fingers against Steve's pale cheek and felt the cold emanating from his skin, Mike swallowed hard.
"Come on now. Don't you dare do that to me, Buddyboy…"
Reaching for the side of the young Inspector's neck, Mike noticed dark bruises starting to appear along his throat, making him wonder what exactly happened after he was knocked out. Much to his relief, his fingers detected a pulse, albeit slow, and the Lieutenant prepared to untie his partner and take a look around, when he heard somebody approach from behind.
"Don't they teach you guys in San Francisco to be careful where you step?"
The voice was cold, unyielding, and Mike turned around slowly, surprised when he saw a man matching their suspect's description stand in the doorway to the adjacent room. Except, it wasn't the same guy they chased through the Candlestick Recreation area the previous day.
This man was taller, lankier, downright sinewy, with thickly muscled forearms sticking out from underneath his fur coat. The black boots he wore were military-issued and judging by his rigid stance, the Lieutenant figured the man to be a veteran in his mid-fifties, a disgruntled one perhaps.
"Who are you?", Mike asked guardedly, stood back up and took a step closer, only to see the reflection of his revolver in the other man's hand.
"You came into my territory causing trouble- which in my opinion means, I get to ask the questions."
"I could care less about your opinion.", Mike barked but remained in place in light of the gun pointed at his chest, "What did you do to my partner? Why is he tied up?"
"The kid?", the other man asked nonchalantly and shrugged, "He was starting to have some seizures. It was the only way I could keep him from hurting himself. See, I decided to save his life, that's all…but don't shower me with thank-you's too much, I get embarrassed and teary-eyed easily. It's not pretty either, I ugly-cry…"
When Mike didn't laugh, the other man pointed his chin to the adjacent room.
"Let him be. He needs all the rest he can get right now."
Startled by the unexpected answer, Mike glanced back and forth between the man and Steve's still form, before shaking his head.
"No, what he needs is a doctor. Where are we?"
"The doctor's in. He has everything he needs right here, just relax for god's sake and let him sleep it off, Stone. Follow me into the kitchen. You look like you could use some coffee. I know I do."
