He heard the beeps, voices and footsteps again before he opened his eyes but this time they weren't distorted or intermittent; this time they were distinctive but just a little quieter. He had been moved out of Emergency into a room and was now hearing the sounds through a closed wooden door. He took a deep breath; the pain is his chest was significantly easier to tolerate, which he hoped was a sign of better things to come. Exhaling loudly, he opened his eyes and froze.

Captain Roy Devitt was sitting with his legs crossed on a white plastic chair beside the bed, staring at him warmly. "Good morning," he said brightly.

Steve blinked a couple of times, frowning. "When did you get here?" he asked, finding his voice.

Devitt uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, smiling. "Bill and I got here last night, just after midnight. We drove straight through."

"And you came right here?"

"No," Devitt chuckled, understanding the younger man's confusion. "No, we checked into a motel near here that Lieutenant Evans recommended and got a few hours sleep first."

Steve's frown deepened. "What time is it?"

The captain glanced at his watch. "9:45. In the morning. The nurses told me they were going to let you sleep as long as you could."

Trying to sit up a little more, the younger man winced and fell back.

"Hey hey hey," Devitt said quickly, standing and putting a gentle, restraining hand on the inspector's right shoulder in an attempt to hold him down. "Don't try to get up, let me raise the bed a little more." He picked up the remote and pushed the button.

As he sat up a little straighter, Steve asked, "Have you seen Mike?"

Devitt put the remote back on the side table and sat down. "Yeah, we saw him this morning for a few minutes. You can relax, he's doing fine. The doctor told us they were taking the chest tube out just after we left then they were going to let him wake up, tape his broken ribs, immobilize his shoulder and move him to a private room. He should be out of here in a couple of days." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Satisfied?"

After a couple of silent seconds, Steve nodded almost imperceptibly.

Devitt sat back and shook his head. "Wow, ah, you guys really dodged some bullets yesterday, didn't you? I got a chance to read the accident report from the Parks Service this morning. That was one hell of a crash."

Steve nodded, staring down at the blanket. He swallowed heavily before he looked up. "You heard about Jeffrey Lonsdale?"

Expressionless, Devitt leaned forward slowly, his forearms on his knees. "I knew nothing at all about the case till I read the report they found in Mike's car. It, ah, it was just slightly before my time," he said with an ironic smile, "so the whole thing was news to me. But from what I read in the file, and from what Evans and Garabaldi told me this morning, I think I have a good handle on most of it right now."

"But he's in the wind again, Roy. I let him get away yesterday –"

"Oh bullshit, Steve, you know that's not true. You didn't 'let him get away'. You did the only thing you could do, the only thing you should have done. You had to get out of what was left of that car, and you had to get both Mike and Lonsdale out as well. There was no choice about it so you're going to have to stop second-guessing yourself, you hear me?" He had been briefed by Evans about the young detective's guilt and he was prepared to nip any further self-recrimination in the bud. Mike wasn't available to do it at the moment, so it had to be him, he thought.

Steve stared into nothing for a few silent seconds then said quietly, "We still have to find him."

Relieved that the conversation seemed to be taking a turn for the better, Devitt snorted, "Don't worry, we will. We have the Parks Service still looking for him, we've got the State Police on the lookout as well and, if need be, we can get the FBI involved." Steve's head came up and he frowned. Devitt threw his hands up. "I know, I know, you want to keep it in the family, so to speak. So do I, okay? I'm just spit-balling a worst case scenario here, all right? It probably won't have to come to that."

Steve sighed. "I hope not."

Devitt smiled wistfully, staring at his colleague's downturned head, knowing full well what was going on beneath the deceptively passive surface. "Look, ah, let me go tell the nurses you're awake so they can get you some breakfast, and I'll go check on Mike again. Okay?"

After a couple of non-responsive seconds, Steve nodded.

# # # # #

With a soft groan, the blue eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, blinking in the bright fluorescent light. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry; he licked ineffectively at his lips.

He heard the scrap of metal on tile and suddenly a shadow loomed over him. "Here," a puzzlingly familiar voice said soothingly, and he refocused on a clear plastic glass with a straw in front of his face. Fingers guided the straw into his mouth and he took a long sip. As it disappeared from his sight, he heard a soft chuckle and the gentle clunk of the glass being put down. "How are you feeling?"

Recognizing the voice of his old friend and fellow officer, Mike blinked again several times then tried to answer. Nothing came out; he cleared his throat carefully and tried again. "Awful," he almost gasped, squeezing his eyes closed as he raised his right hand and weakly groped towards his left shoulder. "What happened…?"

Trying to mask a heavy sigh, the San Francisco captain sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. What he said in the next few minutes, he knew, would frame his colleague's state of mind for the foreseeable future.

"Well," he began gently, "you and Steve are both in a hospital in Pasadena. You were in a car accident on your way home yesterday -"

"Yesterday?" Mike interrupted, opening his eyes.

Devitt put his hand softly on Mike's upper chest to hold him down, in preparation for what he knew would be coming.

"Where's Steve?" Mike's eyes started to snap around the room and Devitt increased the pressure of his hand.

"He's okay, he's okay, he's okay," Devitt repeated quickly, staring into his friend's face until he saw the agitation begin to recede. "He has a couple of broken ribs and a cut on his forehead but he's okay. He's in another room on another floor right now but I promise you you'll be able to see him a little later… okay?"

Mike stared at the captain for several long beats, unblinking, before he finally nodded and let his head drop back onto the pillow, gasping in pain. Devitt kept his hand on his friend's chest until he knew the fight was out of him.

"And as for you," Devitt continued quietly, the blue eyes watching him intently, "you have four broken ribs on your left side, a hairline fracture of your left shoulderblade, and your left lung collapsed. You've had a chest tube between your ribs for the past 24 hours, so that's why you hurt so much. You also have a mild concussion from a whack to the head. But the doctors have all told me you're going to make a complete recovery, and you might even get to go home in a couple of days." Leaning back slightly, the silver-haired detective smiled with an almost sad encouragement.

"So, ah, so what happened…?" The short and simple question was laced with fear and trepidation.

Devitt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you remember anything at all?" he asked gently, not in the least surprised when Mike gingerly shook his head.

The captain nodded with a wistful smile. He had a lot of news to impart, almost all of it bad, and he wasn't sure how Mike was going to take it.

# # # # #

He was staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing, trying to come to grips with everything that he had been told during the past hour. It didn't seem real. He brought his right hand up again to rest against the tensor bandages across his chest and over his left shoulder. The pain was under control for the moment, for which he was very grateful, but he knew it would probably be several weeks until he was fit enough to go back to work again.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying to fight the waves of anger that kept washing over him.

Devitt had been direct and honest and, as far as Mike knew, had left nothing out. It had been a difficult task for the captain, he realized, telling him everything that he and his partner had been through in the past 24 hours.

They had been interrupted twice by visits from a doctor and a couple of nurses, making sure their patient was doing well and to bring him a breakfast of oatmeal that had congealed, untouched, on the overbed table.

When the captain had finally excused himself, trying to lighten the mood with some good-natured shots about the lieutenant's uncharacteristic beard, the bed's occupant was left staring at the ceiling. He hadn't moved for several long minutes.

It had been a lot to take in all at once.

# # # # #

Gritting his teeth, he pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into the small room. He could feel his heart almost beating out of his chest as he quietly approached the bed, his right arm wrapped around his chest once more.

Mike seemed to be asleep; his eyes were closed and his breaths soft and regular. Under a light blue hospital gown, the wide tensor bandages covering his left shoulder and securing his arm against his chest were visible. White gauze encircled his forehead. Thankfully, he looked just as Garabaldi had described him, and to Steve that looked wonderful.

Allowing himself a quiet relieved sigh, he slid noiselessly into the chair near the head of the bed, ready to wait until his partner woke on his own. He was in no rush.

It didn't take long before Mike's head moved slightly and his eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling for a couple of long beats then turned to face his visitor. There was no expression in his eyes as they met the anxious green ones staring back at him. After a tense second he asked quietly, "So I hear you not only destroyed my car, but you let Lonsdale get away… with my gun…"