AN: Many thanks goes out to my wonderful readers for their continued support.
This one's for "Sylvia Elaine", "Keller12917" and "Guest" - I know you have each asked for a speedy update so here it is (and a little longer than the last)...hope you enjoy.
Tanith
Chapter 7
Steve groaned and started shivering as he came to. He lifted his head off the ground and tried to roll to his feet when Mike's voice stopped him.
"Steve! Whoah, easy there," Mike knelt down beside his partner and placed his hands firmly on his shoulders to keep him still. "What happened?" He asked worriedly as he started checking the young man over for obvious injuries. The first thing he noticed were the bruises and scrapes to Steve's face. The Lieutenant's eyes roamed over the rest of the cuts and contusions covering his partner's arms and knuckles - obvious signs that he'd been involved in a violent struggle.
Steve groaned when Mike's hand patted down his torso. "I..got jumped."
Mike hastily lifted the hem of Steve's white tee shirtand found the young man's body mottled with bruises and abrasions. When he pulled the material back down, he grasped Steve's trembling arm. "You're stone cold."
Dazed and groggy, Steve raised his head off the ground and sluggishly tried to get to his feet.
"Oh no you don't. Don't even think about getting up," Mike admonished. He placed one hand behind Steve's head and using the other he gently pushed him back down by the shoulder. A warm sticky substance coated Mike's fingers and when he took his hand away from under the young man's head. Blood. Steve's blood. Mike's frown deepened. There was a distinct possibility that the young man had hit the back of his head on the concrete floor.
Steve clenched his teeth together to stop them from chattering.
Mike shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the shivering young man then snatched a rag from under the work bench. He rolled it up and placed it carefully under Steve's head. "I'm gonna call an ambulance. Don't move, you hear me, Steve? Don't move."
Another pain filled groanwas all Steve could manage before he drifted off into oblivion once again.
The next time Steve woke up, the familiar smells of a hospital room filled his nose. He didn't feel any better than when Mike found him but at least he felt a lot warmer lying on a softer surface than the garage floor.
"How're you feeling?" Mike asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Steve took a moment to think on how to best answer that question. "Like I've been hit with a two-by-four."
"Do you remember what happened?"
"Er..I remember coming home, taking a shower, I think, then going to bed. I heard a noise so I went outside to check it out. I don't remember why I went into the garage but that's where someone jumped me from behind. Everything else is a bit of a blur after that."
Mike poured a glass of water as he listened to Steve's croaky voice. "Here." He helped the young man raise himself off the pillows to take a few sips of water. "How many of them were there?"
"Just one."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, pretty sure."
"Well, he did a good job roughing you up," Mike commented with a worried frown.
"How bad?"
"Bad enough to keep you here for a couple of days."
Steve groaned and stared miserably at the ceiling. "What's the damage?"
"Concussion, broken ribs and your right kidney took one hell of a beating on its own."
"Is that all?" Steve replied sarcastically. He looked down at himself and lifted his arm, noticing the thick bandages wrapped around his hand.
"You broke your hand. I hope that was worth it."
"Nope. I missed. Hit the floor. I remember that one." Steve let out a shallow laugh but it only made his body ache worse.
Mike winced in sympathy. "Did you get a good look at the perp who did this to you?"
Steve shook his head carefully. "He wore a balaclava the whole time."
"Was he armed?"
"Only if you count what he got his hands on in the garage. I didn't see him carrying a piece or a blade. But..."
"What is it, Buddy Boy?"
"Bastard wore brass knuckles."
"Brass knuckles?" Mike thought about the strange choice of weaponry for a burglary.
"Yeah," Steve confirmed though he wasn't really paying any attention anymore. His stomach churned and he suddenly felt nauseous.
Mike saw Steve's face turning a shade of green and knew what was to come next. Not seeing a bed pan anywhere, he quickly grabbed the trash can from the corner of the room. He barely made it back to the bed before Steve rolled onto his side with his head hanging over the edge of the mattress. He threw up whatever was left in his stomach then lay back breathlessly.
A nurse happened to walk the halls outside the room and Mike grabbed her attention. He apologized when he handed the soiled trash can to her though she patted his arm reassuringly and told him she'd fetch a doctor. Mike turned back to check on Steve who looked utterly miserable and ill.
At the sound of a second round of knocking, Jeannie answered the door and was greeted with a bunch of beautiful red roses.
"I wanted to apologize for bailing out on you last night," said Whitney, handing the roses to his fiancée.
Jeannie sighed and took the roses from him. She bit her lower lip then laughed jovially. "Come on in. I'll just put these in some water."
Whitney followed Jeannie into the kitchen as she put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the dining table. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist, holding her against him. Lowering his head, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Forgive me?"
Jeannie turned her head and whispered, "Hm, let me see…" then she brushed her lips against Whitney's and kissed him softly.
"I take that as a yes?" Whitney smiled then twirled her around to face him. The couple shared another kiss, this time it lasted until the phone rang.
Jeannie extricated herself from Whitney's embrace and picked up the phone, half expecting it was Mike or Steve. "Hello?" No answer. "Hello?" The dial tone sounded. Jeannie thought nothing of it and hung up the phone.
"Who was it?" Whitney asked curiously, leaning against the kitchen counter casually.
Jeannie shrugged. "Must be a wrong number." She walked across the kitchen and slipped her arms around Whitney when she felt him flinch. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Whitney brushed off and leaned down to distract Jeannie with another kiss but she drew back and gave him the look. Rolling his eyes, he added, "It's nothing, really."
"What's nothing really? Whitney, I'm a cop's daughter. You can't fool me," Jeannie pressed her hand against Whitney's chest then moved it lower until she felt him flinch again. This time he tried to hide the reaction. He placed his hand over hers and held it away from him.
"I don't know what you're talking about, babe," Whitney lied.
Jeannie started to get annoyed. She twisted her hand out of his grasp and lifted the hem of his knitted sweater and tee shirt. "What happened?" She ran her fingers gently over the bruise on Whitney's taut stomach and winced.
Whitney sighed heavily. "I got mugged."
"What? When?" Jeannie removed her hand and straightened Whitney's tee shirt and sweater.
"The night before. On my way home from dinner, I stopped by my dad's office and parked my car near an alley It was really stupid of me," Whitney paused and shook his head. "When I walked back to the car, I thought I heard someone in trouble so I tried to help, except I was tricked. Two guys attacked me, stole my wallet and threw me up against the car. Broke my window."
"Have you told the police?"
"No, I don't even know what the guys looked like. It was dark and it was my fault. I should've been more careful," said Whitney.
"Don't be ridiculous. It wasn't your fault you were attacked." Jeannie reached up and traced her fingers over Whitney's brow. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should get yourself checked out?"
Whitney smiled down at Jeannie. "You worry too much. That's probably why I love you. Come here." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, taking care not to aggravate the bruises on his body. "I'm fine. So stop worrying or you'll get grey hairs."
"Why didn't you tell me yesterday? When we spoke over the phone?" Jeannie asked, not quite ready to drop the subject.
"Because I was worried you were mad at me for having to cancel dinner. I felt so bad that I did end swinging by after work to see you but no one was home. I waited a while but I felt really lousy so I went home," Whitney explained. In truth, he hadn't intended for his fiancée to find out he was hurt but now he was glad because everything was as it should be. Jeannie not only let him off the hook for bailing out on her but she now felt rightfully guilty for being in the arms of another man. And Keller, no doubt would be nursing more than his pride right now, Whitney thought scathingly.
Jeannie felt hot tears of shame prickle at the corners of her eyes. She was mad at him yesterday. There was no denying it. But she had no idea he'd been hurt or that he made the effort to still try to see her last night. And where had she been? I should have called him when I got home. Made sure everything was alright.
