AN: As always, I'd like to say a big thank you to all my readers. We're nearing the end and I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I did writing it.

This chapter is for "CasiNight" - I know you've been waiting so patiently for an update on Steve :-)

A special thank you goes to my beta for all her encouragement and support.

Tanith2011

ACT V: Part 2

General Hospital, SF, 1973

The feel of someone lightly tapping her on the shoulder woke Jeannie from her slumber. "Hmm?" She looked up and confusion was replaced with disappointment when Dr. Collins' kind face filled her vision. "Can I stay here a while longer, please?"

With a sigh, the physician smiled and nodded. "Just a little while until your father gets back. Deal?"

"Thank you," Jeannie whispered. She waited until Dr. Collins left the room then leaned forward and gave Steve's forehead a light kiss before sitting back down and bringing his hand up to her cheek. It was cold and his grip had slackened. Tears began to well up in her eyes and roll silently down her face before she could stop them. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would close the flood gates, when she felt cool trembling fingers touch her cheek and brush away the tears. Slowly she opened her eyes and met Steve's gaze. His fingers moved from her cheekbones to her hair and he brushed the loose strands back. "Steve?" Jeannie said hoarsely.

"Come here." Steve gestured weakly for Jeannie to lean forward.

Knowing exactly what Steve was asking and realizing how much she needed the contact, Jeannie moved to lay her head against his shoulder just as his arms reached up and held her close to him.

"I was so scared!" Jeannie cried against Steve's shoulder.

"Oh Jeannie, I'm so sorry." Steve gently stroked Jeannie's hair as she let her emotions ride out. The pain of seeing her breaking down because she was terrified of losing him was far greater than any bullet could inflict.

Residence of Tony Brewer, SF, 1973

Although Mike knew his fitness was above average, he struggled to make it over the picket fence that separated Brewer's property from the alleyway that ran adjacent to the junk yard. Through sheer determination and the memory of Steve lying gravely wounded on his hallway floor, Mike pressed onward. The chase led him through the labyrinthine junk yard. Weaving in between the mangled towers of unwanted furniture and appliances, Mike slowed his pace and kept his head down. A shot rang out and the seasoned detective dove to the ground as the speeding bullet ricocheted off a metallic surface beside him. Taking a slow deep breath, Mike carefully pushed himself to his feet then quickly moved forward at a crouch, with his gun held out in front of him. His eyes searched through the gaps among the foliage and he listened for any sound that would give him clues to Brewer's location. When he reached a bend in his path, he stopped and peered around the corner. With no sign of the suspect, Mike started to move when suddenly a heavy weight dropped onto his shoulders from up above, knocking him down and pinning him face first against the dirt. The gun flew from his grasp and lay just out of his reach as he extended his arm, in an attempt to reclaim possession of it.

"Alright, cop! Get up, nice and slow," Brewer ordered in between gritted teeth. He manoeuvred his weight off the detective's back and grabbed a handful of the older man's coat while keeping the barrel of his pistol pressed firmly into the back of his neck.

Bending his knees and pushing upward, Mike raised his hands and felt himself being yanked forcefully to his feet. "Just take it easy, now. You're in way over your head so why don't you just…"

"Shut up!" Brewer growled, digging the barrel of the gun harder into Mike's neck. "We're going to get out of this place together and then we're going to the airport."

"Listen to me hotshot! You're not even going to get anywhere near the airport so let's just talk about this. What do you say?" Mike tried his best to hide his anger and defuse the situation but with adrenaline rushing through him and images of his wounded partner never leaving him, he was finding it increasingly difficult not to let his emotions get in the way of his better judgement.

"I say, move it!" Brewer shot back then shoved his hostage onward.

Mike stumbled and almost lost his footing but Brewer's hold of his coat kept him on his feet and he plodded along.

"Let's go, let's go!" Brewer fired up, giving the detective another hard shove.

Recognizing the dangerous predicament he was in, Mike's gut told him if he didn't take down Brewer fast, he was going to be a dead man. Without his partner backing him up, Mike felt like he'd lost another part of himself and it hurt him a great deal.

"You know, if that cop buddy of yours hadn't barged in on us at the wrong time, we wouldn't be here," Brewer remarked scathingly.

At the criminal's unwitting mention of the word, buddy, and what it meant to his hostage, Mike's anger magnified tenfold and before he could even think about his actions, he followed through with them. Drowning out whatever else Brewer was saying, Mike wheeled around and swung his arm catching the gunman by surprise as his fingers latched around Brewer's wrist, forcing his arm to point up toward the heavens. A shot fired into the air as Mike grappled for the weapon while Brewer tried vainly to regain control. Exertion showed on the Lieutenant's face as he felt the younger man's strength over powering him. Although he could hear sirens in the background, indicating help was on the way, Mike didn't think he could hold out for much longer. Maintaining his grip on Brewer's wrist with one hand, he drew back the other and drove his fist as hard as he could into his adversary's stomach.

The punch caught Brewer by surprise and as all the air left his lungs, he doubled over and felt the gun twisted out of his grasp. Infuriated, he made one last ditch to take down the cop. Balling his hand into a fist, he lashed out with a wild punch that knocked the fedora off the seasoned detective's head as the cop ducked under the blow in the nick of time.

Kicking the man's legs from under him, Mike shoved Brewer down onto the ground. He pocketed the gun quickly, while using his knee to keep the crook pressed down on the dirt. He then twisted the Brewer's arms behind his back and reached behind to unclip the cuffs from his belt. Breathing hard from the struggle and the adrenaline rush, Mike finally secured the cuffs tightly around Brewer's wrists.

"Come on, on your feet!" Mike commanded gruffly. "You're under arrest for attempted murder, armed robbery and assault." He read him his rights as he dragged the man up off the ground. As he started to march Brewer who started kicking at the dirt and cursing angrily toward the junk yard exit, three SFPD officers raced towards them with Tanner in the lead.

Mike gladly allowed the officers to take Brewer off his hands as Tanner walked up to him.

"Are you okay, Mike?" Tanner asked worriedly as he bent down and retrieved the fedora from the ground then handed it to Mike.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How's the hand?" Mike gestured to the handkerchief wrapped around the Inspector's hand as he dusted off the dirt from his hat before placing it back onto his head.

"Ah, it's just a scratch. It could've been worse," Tanner brushed Mike's concern away then followed the older man to retrieve his gun before they headed out of the junk yard, feeling like they had just walked out from a battlefield.

Mike gave Tanner a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Just a scratch, huh? Come on, let's get it checked out before it gets infected."