The next thing Steve heard, drifting in and out of consciousness, was the wailing of a siren and the flash of blue lights. Both hurt his head, but at the same time he knew that it meant the Cavalry had arrived on time.
But where was Mike, he wondered as he felt being lifted onto a stretcher.
No, Mike hadn't been here with him, it was Ed Brown he should be looking for.
He moved his head ever so slightly and saw the unmistakable lanky figure of Ed Brown sitting at the back of the ambulance, being patched up by a paramedic.
Good, Ed was giving out about the iodine; that must mean he was alright.
Steve really wanted to close his eyes and escape the noise and the irritating light, but there was something he was meant to do. He tried to catch the Sergeant's eyes. "Ed, will you let Mike know, but not my aunt! Promise!"

Downtown

Ed Brown knew that his boss would not be happy about the outcome of this evening. After a short stop at homicide he went up to Ironside's office, convinced that the Chief had already heard what had happened, and that he would expect him to come to report personally.

"Sergeant, what would you have done if I hadn't anticipated that you would start at the Cockatoo bar and sent the Marines after you?"

Ed dropped his dented frame onto the next chair, looking frustrated at his torn pants – the third pair he had ruined today. "I'm sorry. I know that I was too careless." And he wasn't talking about the pants…

"Tell that to Lt. Stone and his kid detective. We wanted you to protect the boy, and now he is in hospital."

Ed didn't answer. He knew that he earned a dressing down. He could only hope that Steve wasn't hurt too badly.

"Why couldn't you just listen if one of the prostitutes talked with a mid-western accent?"

Now Ed nodded. "I will recognize two who talked like that. They stood at the corner Folsom - Seventeenth. We may find them there tomorrow again. And I also recognized one of the attackers. He must have seen me and gathered his gang together. I suppose he had to do with the affair at the Cockatoo bar two years ago. That's why I went to get some of the rogues' galleries." He put them onto the table, starting to scan through the pictures.

Ironside shook his head. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?!"

But when he saw how cramped his assistant's posture was from the blows he had taken his voice softened. "Ed!"

"Sir?"

"Someone else might not have been able to protect that detective kid any better either. It was just bad luck that you were recognized. Leave the mug shots for tomorrow; I think tonight you could do with a shot in your mug!" Ironside held the bottle of Bourbon invitingly over the mug of coffee that Ed was nursing.

March 29th, General Hospital

Mike Stone discreetly rapped on the door before he peeked in. The first thing he noticed was that although Steve was in bed, he was far from being asleep. On the contrary, he looked agitated and thoroughly miserable.

"Steve, what's wrong with you, are you in pain?" Mike was very concerned. He had talked to the doctor just a few minutes ago and what he had heard had sounded quite positive. Cuts, bruises, a cracked rib and a slight concussion, but nothing to worry about.

Steve shook his head and winced. Sudden head movements were definitely not a good idea.

Mike observed him closely and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There now, keep your head still and rest for a while. Maybe I'd better go and let you sleep!"

"Nooo!" Steve wailed in horror, "Don't go away! You can't leave me here unprotected."

Mike's concern grew by the minute. Did Steve feel he was under threat? What did he remember of the night before?

"Ah now, buddy boy, don't underestimate Ed Brown, he got a trace on the guys right after he rang me to tell me that you are in hospital."

Steve snorted. "Those fellows? There were just too many of them for the two of us."

Okay, so it was not the assailants from the night before that he feared. What had him so upset, then? Maybe there was more damage to the head than the doctors had imagined? Mike sat down at the edge of Steve's bed and put his hand on Steve's unbandaged cheek. No temperature, maybe just a bit flushed with excitement… Mike's concern grew to outright worry when Steve didn't swat his hand away or at least protested. Instead he took Mike's hand in his and pleaded. "Mike, please, don't go away or I'll be easy prey."

The older man squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't fret now, I won't let anyone harm you but you have to tell me who you are scared of or I won't be able to help you!"

"Do you have to ask? Isn't it plain and obvious? Don't let Aunt Mathilde anywhere near me!"

Mike sighed with relief. At least there was no new paranoia, just the old irrational childhood fear of the aged aunt.

"Come on now, Steve, she's not that bad!"

"Little do you know! She'll fuss and call me all kind of stupid names and lecture me how Cousin Herbert Keller in Munich solves his cases. No running around and getting hurt. All he seems to do is nod his head wisely, smoke and drink some brandy…" the rant went on and on and Mike couldn't get a word in until he put his hand over Steve's mouth and fixed him with a stern look.

"Okay, buddy boy, I get it. You don't want to be released into the care of your aunt." Steve nodded vehemently. "When I remove my hand now I want you to promise me to keep calm and listen." Another nod and Mike took his hand away.

"Mike, could you put her on a plane back to Munich perhaps?" Steve suggested hopefully.

"Steve, apart from you being overly sensitive when your aunt is concerned, there is no way we can keep her away from you."

"A restraining order, perhaps?" Steve put forward tentatively.

"You are raving, my boy, I think they knocked whatever little sense you had out of your head last night!"

Steve turned his head away, a hurt expression on his face. "You don't know her the way I do! You have no idea what her home remedy for bruises and sprains is! Cabbage leaves!"

Mike almost choked with laughter and patted Steve's arm affectionately. "Alright, alright, I get the drift. You promise me to calm down now and I promise you protection." Steve eyed him suspiciously.

"When I talked to the doctor I tried to negotiate an early release from hospital for you, because that's what you normally would want."

Steve sighed.

"The doctor rather wanted to keep you for a few days."

Another, even deeper sigh.

"Come on, Steve, you can't have it both ways. You can stay in hospital and I promise not to let her come here on her own. I'll bring her and make sure she won't even touch you, let alone kiss you. You can pretend you are asleep or whatever."

"I couldn't come home with you and you tell her I'm working undercover or something?" the young man proposed timidly.

"With Jeannie coming home tomorrow? You know my daughter, how long can she keep a secret? Five minutes at the most and then the two of them will combine forces and wrap you in cabbage leaves!"

Steve nodded dejectedly.

"Cheer up, you'll be fine in a few days and maybe we can tell Mathilde that your stomach is too sensitive after the beating to digest cabbage!"

A tiny spark of hope appeared in Steve's eyes.

Downtown

Shortly after the hospital visit Mike entered Ironside's office. His glance fell on the hamster cage. "Oh, is Bobby back?" he wondered briefly

"Bobby? Is that its name? To me these little beasts look all alike," uttered Ironside.

"Hello Ed, how are you?" Mike asked the sergeant who looked a little worse for wear.

"Fine. Sir, I'm awful sorry about Steve." He dry-swallowed and shook his head. "This should never have happened. I know it's my fault. He will be all right, won't he?"

"Come on, soldier, we knew that it was a risk to go in there. You aren't guilty of anything. As far as I heard you did a fine job protecting Steve, and he will be out of hospital in no time."

Ed seemed to be very relieved, but at the same time embarrassed about Mike's friendly words. "Thank you, Sir..."

Ironside was of the opinion that one had to get back to business now instead of mollycoddling his assistant. "At least we got a break. Ed recognized the leader of the punks who assaulted the boys. His name's Bud Hopkins. He is originally from Lynchburg in Tennessee. We checked his connections. He went to school with a certain Alex Turner, who is now a known pimp here in San Francisco and a big lover of Jack Daniel's. The latter has been apprehended half an hour ago."

"Well, that's good news! In that case I will go downstairs and do my part of the work. And you, young man, stop blaming yourself. You did great." He patted Ed's shoulder. The sergeant winced, not only because his back still hurt, but also, because his boss saw Mike doing it...

When Mike walked up the ramp the door opened and two officers brought a prisoner in.

"Chief, this is Alex Turner. You wanted him to be brought up directly."

"Thanks, officers. Sit down, Mr. Turner, and you Mike, stay here!"

The officers left and Turner sat down. There were no handcuffs, no guns, no menacing behavior of Ironside or his people, yet Mike noticed some subtle changes: Ed Brown's body seemed to tense up just a little and the look of his warm brown eyes cooled down several degrees at once. Mark Sanger, who had come out of his room to get a cup of coffee, left it on the stove and remained in the office, leaning casually against a pillar. As Ironside liked to point out: he had trained his people well and they knew what was expected from them. Maybe this was part of the secret of this successful team, their working together in such an easygoing mutual understanding.

"Sir, I protest vehemently against this unjust treatment!" ranted Turner. "I can't see why I was brought here!"

"You are an innocent citizen and you have nothing to do with prostitution or with the murders which were committed in Mission district over the last few weeks?" asked Ironside.

"Of course I am! And murders? I read about them in the newspaper. The victims were the dregs of society," he spit towards a plant in a corner, missing it by inches, "but I have nothing to do with them."

Ed glanced at his boss, and Ironside nodded just slightly. Making sure with another quick glance that Mark was alert if needed the sergeant went to the plant and placed the spittle into an evidence bag.

"Well, in that case it is your bad luck that you are a fan of whiskey. It's Jack Daniel's isn't it? The smell is good, but what you are saying literally stinks."

"You damn jerk, what are you trying to pin on me?!"

"Nothing but the truth. You should not have spit at your victims."

Ironside must have hit the jackpot, for Turner jumped up and took off towards the ramp.
He had to pass Ed, who stretched his long leg out. Turner stumbled over it and up the ramp and Mark was quick to catch him and twist his right arm onto his back.

"Since you have him neatly fixed I suggest you bring him in that way, Mark. Ed, you go with him and do the official business."

The young men left with the prisoner.

Mike whistled approvingly through his teeth. "Bob, this was a fine demonstration of how this office works! But how did you know that Turner had spit at his victims?"

Ironside grinned widely. "I didn't know. I had smelled the whiskey on the victims, and the rest was an educated guess, and I was right, wasn't I?"

Mike nodded. "You sure were! Congratulations. Well, but now I should..."

"Hey, I don't know about your opinion whether or not Jack Daniel's is bourbon or not, but we could have some and maybe find out. Care to join me?"

"But Bob! We're on duty!"

"Well, you may be. I'm not. I'm a volunteer. I can't be dismissed...!"