"Wow, well, we can see your eyes now at least," Haseejian chuckled as he approached the bed, dropping a heavy briefcase on the floor as Healey came through the door with an IBM Selectric in his arms.

Though his face was still swollen, the puffiness around his eyes had begun to recede and Steve was starting to look familiar again. The left side of his face was one purple, painful-looking bruise, his nose was still bandaged and his jaw swollen, but there was a light back in his eyes that was a relief to see.

As Healey set the typewriter on the bed table and started to look around for an electrical outlet, Steve thrust a notepad in Haseejian's direction. The sergeant took the pad and read aloud, "Have you seen Mike? How's he doing?"

Haseejian looked up with a grin. "He's doing great, don't worry about him. I just saw him this morning and they may be letting him out tomorrow. You haven't seen him yet?" he asked, seemingly in all innocence. Both he and Healey knew the partners hadn't been allowed to be together; the hospital staff had been told that they were to be kept apart until the police department gave them the go-ahead.

Steve shook his head slightly, then took the pad and wrote, Except in a mirror. Haseejian chuckled and showed the pad to Healey. The sergeants were unhappy that this measure had to be taken, but because of the many still unanswered questions, they fully realized the complications that could develop down the line.

"Well, I think we can arrange for you to see him after we're finished here," Haseejian said encouragingly. "He's still in ICU but because you've been moved up here, I've been told we can put you in a wheelchair and take you down there. How does that sound?"

Steve's eyes brightened even more, but he grabbed the pad back from Haseejian again, scribbled on it furiously and handed it back.

"Can he go home alone?" Haseejian read, then looked up and smiled. "Don't worry, he's not going 'home' home. He's going to stay at Rudy's till he's strong enough. We've got this all covered, don't worry. You're not the only one who can baby-sit him, you know," he finished with a chuckle.

Steve relaxed and sat back, and Healey thought he could see a twinkle in the inspector's eyes as he swung the rolling table over the bed. He had inserted paper into the feed roller and now he positioned the typewriter for easy access. There was a stack of fresh white bond on the table as well as an extra ribbon cartridge.

"So," Haseejian said vigorously, "shall we begin? I'll tell you what we'll do. You know what we need, so why don't you start and go at it for as long as you can. Dan and I will go get a coffee and when we get back, we'll start to read what you've written… and if we have any questions, we'll keep them till you're finished and ask them then. How does that sound?"

Steve nodded.

"All right, so, go for it," Haseejian gestured towards the typewriter, chuckling as he and Healey left the room and closed the door.

# # # # #

A half hour later the two detectives strolled back into the room. Steve was still typing furiously, but he glanced up as they came in and indicated a small pile of typed pages lying on the bed. With an impressed smile, Haseejian picked up the pages, thankfully noting that Steve had helpfully typed numbers at the top, re-ordered them and sat down to read.

Healey waited patiently till Haseejian finished the first page and handed it over.

"Mike and I were at a house nearby, trying to locate a witness to our case, when this young guy comes up to us and asks if we're cops. He had two suitcases and he looked pissed off. He told us his neighbor was a junkie and was always creating a disturbance. It was usually just screaming and throwing things but that day he seemed to have a gun. He said he was sitting in his living room and a bullet came through the wall and almost hit him so he packed up and moved out. (I can't blame him!)

Mike and I drove over there – it was a real dive, as you probably saw, and there was nobody around that we could find. We went up to the apartment on the second floor and the door was open so we went in. Mike identified us and we both had our weapons out.

We did a sweep of the entire apartment and there was no-one there, but we did see the bullet holes in the bedroom walls, the drug paraphernalia lying around. But there was no perp.

We started to walk back to the door – I think it was Mike's intention to just call in for a black-and-white to follow-up. Mike had put his gun away and I was just starting to do the same when we heard this noise from the kitchen. I was behind him so I was still in the hallway when he stepped through the doorway into the kitchen.

I heard Mike catch his breath and almost the same time I heard the shot. I saw the spray of blood and heard him hit the fridge. He went down quickly. I ran down the hallway to the other kitchen door so I could get behind the shooter – I didn't know if he'd know if I was even there.

I stepped through the doorway gun first, but the shooter was already scrambling past Mike and out the other door on his hands and knees. He was moving incredibly fast. I only had time to glance at Mike but I could see he was bleeding profusely.

I hesitated at the kitchen doorway because I knew the shooter still had the gun. There was no sound, and I didn't know where he was, and when I looked around the doorframe into the hallway, he was at the entrance to the back room and he leveled his gun at me and fired, but it was empty and it just clicked.

He turned and ran into the bedroom behind him and I took off after him, holstering my gun because he now seemed to be unarmed. He was diving behind the bed when I got to the bedroom, growling and screaming the whole time. He appeared crazed, like he was on something and having a very bad trip.

I circled the bed to come up behind him, he was reaching under the bed and I wanted to get to him before he found whatever it was he was looking for. I was too late. He sat back, turned and lunged at me with a large knife. He caught me across the left upper arm. It hurt like hell but I knew I couldn't let him beat me. I grabbed both his wrists and tried to hold him away from me but he was incredibly strong.

That was when he head-butted me the first time. He got me on the nose and the pain was blinding. I thought I was going to lose consciousness but I knew both mine and Mike's lives were in the balance if I didn't keep control.

The next few seconds are still a blur. I remember we somehow struggled onto the bed and he head-butted me a couple more times. I was getting very groggy and there was blood in my eyes; I was having a hard time seeing and I felt I was going to lose the battle.

He was on top of me on the bed and trying to drive the knife into me and I was getting weaker. He did managed to force the knife into my chest a little bit and that pain seemed to restore some strength and I pushed him a little further away.

I'm not even sure if I heard the shot, it was liked he was propelled off me by some outside force or something. Suddenly there was no-one on top of me anymore. I remember lying there for a second or two, trying to figure out what happened. There was blood all over my shirt and jacket but I knew most of it wasn't mine.

I looked over at the door and I couldn't believe Mike was standing there. He looked god-awful. He was leaning against the doorframe, covered in blood, he looked like he was gonna pass out and he was holding his gun in his left hand.

He was looking beyond the bed, like over my shoulder, and then he looked at me, and it seemed like he was in shock. I think I started to crawl across the bed towards him and then I saw his eyes flash back over my shoulder and he fired again. I think I felt the bullet go past my ear. I'm sure I ducked instinctively because I remember I was flat on the bed, and I turned and looked over the side of the bed and the shooter was lying on his back, his eyes were open and there was a bullet hole in the center of his chest.

That's when I heard a thud and I looked back and Mike had fallen where he was standing. I got to him as fast as I could but my eyes were starting to swell shut and my head was spinning and I thought I was going to pass out too.

He looked so bad I didn't even take the time to see if he was still alive, I just knew I had to get out of there and down to the car so I could call for help. I don't remember much about getting out of the apartment and down the stairs. I know I fell a lot, maybe I kept passing out, I'm not sure.

I vaguely remember someone grabbing me at the foot of the stairs and then being on a gurney, but it's very fragmented.

When Steve had finished typing, he just sat there quietly, not looking at the others. Haseejian waited patiently for Healey to finish the final page. The two sergeants exchanged a look then Haseejian leaned forward slightly. He pointed towards the pages in Healey's hand. "Steve, that's amazing, you did a great job. It's a big help for us, thanks, and it, ah, it echoes pretty much everything that Mike can remember too." He glanced sideways at Healey. "There's a couple of questions we need to ask, if you think you're up to it?"

On Steve's nod, he took the sheets from Healey's hand and singled out the last one. Glancing at it, he continued, "You say at the end here, when Mike shot the guy the second time, that you saw Mike's eyes 'flash over your shoulder'. Did you see or hear the other guy getting up and coming after you again?"

Steve picked up the notebook and pen and when he finished writing, handed it over. No, nothing, but I wasn't thinking or hearing straight from all the pain. He certainly could have.

"Okay," Haseejian nodded. "And when you looked over the side of the bed and the guy was lying there dead, do you remember seeing the knife anywhere around his body?"

Steve thought about for several seconds then shook his head. He gestured for the pad and Haseejian handed it back. He wrote, I really don't remember. It could have been there and I just didn't see it. Why?

Haseejian shook his head, "Just filling in details," he said, hoping his answer didn't sound as lame to Steve as it did to himself and Healey. He nodded at his colleague, who got up and exited into the corridor. "Listen, Steve, this is great, thanks. Dan and I should have this wrapped up really soon," he said with more optimism in his voice than he felt. He had hoped that Steve's account of the shooting would shed more light on the situation. Instead it had just seemed to muddy the waters.

There was a banging at the door and Healey backed into the room with a wheelchair. Haseejian looked at Steve with a warm smile. "What do you say we go see Mike?"

# # # # #

Haseejian pushed the wheelchair through the swinging doors of the ICU then up to the open entrance of the cubicle he had spent so much time in lately, it seemed.

When they got to the doorway, Steve's eyes fell upon the occupant of the bed and he waved the wheelchair to a halt and started to get to his feet; Haseejian helped with a hand on his elbow.

Mike was lying back on the half-raised bed, his eyes closed. He was still unnaturally pale, but the only hospital equipment he was still attached to was the heart monitor, which beeped with encouraging regularity. As Steve got closer to the bed, he could see the barest outlines of the bandage covering Mike's right shoulder under the pale blue hospital gown. And his right arm was still encased in a dark blue sling secured across his chest.

As Haseejian watched, a smiling Steve reached out and gently laid his right hand on the side of Mike's face. The blue eyes opened slowly but as they quickly focused grew wide with surprise. And even from across the room there was no mistaking the tears of joy that sprang into his eyes.