Dan hung up the payphone and turned back towards the waiting room, smiling. For once, the call he had just made was an optimistic one, but it was a previous comment that had sent him reeling. As Steve and Jeannie left to follow Dr. Somerset to Isolation, Steve had turned to him and said, sotto voce, "Go give Maggie the good news."
He was too stunned to move at first – how in the hell did Steve know about Maggie? They had been so careful. And then he realized what must have happened, and that her late return to his place was not because she had gone for a last minute dinner, as she he told him, but because she had been caught out. And as Steve had been the only one still at the hospital…
She'd confessed as much when he called, thrilled and comforted with his news and forthright about the previous night. She filled him in on what she and Steve had discussed, about her remaining in the background until her presence could be explained to Jeannie. And she wondered aloud how long that was going to be; there were things she needed to talk to Mike about.
Shaking himself back to the present, Dan spun abruptly and strode back to the phones. There was one other important call he had forgotten to make.
# # # # #
'Yeah, thanks, Dan, thanks… Yeah, I'll tell the guys. You give him our best, okay?... And Steve and Jeannie too… Yeah, you too. Talk to you soon, Dan." Lessing hung up the phone and turned to the bullpen. "Fellas!" he yelled to get their attention, "that was Dan –"
"No kidding, really?" Tanner interrupted wryly, raising an eyebrow. Then he laughed and said gently, "I'm sorry, go on."
Lessing shot him a look then continued. "He just wanted us to know that Mike's regained consciousness and they're going to start taking him off the ventilator."
There were relieved shouts, sighs and comments all around. Tanner, glancing once more at Lessing in apology, headed out the door to Captain Devitt's office. Haseejian picked up his phone. "I'll give Rudy a shout. Let him know." He flipped open his Rolodex to find the number.
Six months earlier, Captain Rudy Olsen has finally retired, but he and Mike had stayed close and they knew their old superior was worried about his longtime friend. Finally Haseejian was able to call him with good news.
But that was the only good news in the homicide department that day. The one open case was a businessman killed in a downtown hotel, and Tanner and Lessing were handling that one. The others were working cold cases; that is, everyone but Haseejian, who was still working on Mike's, even though it didn't fall into his purview.
And he still had nothing. Mike's shooter had been identified as one John Lewis Stanton, a 16-year-old from Mill Valley who had come into The City as a runaway 13-year-old and lived on the streets ever since. Tall for his age, and looking much older, he'd quickly turned street hustler, drug mule and, lately it seemed, heroin addict.
He had a rap sheet half a mile long, all misdemeanours, but because of his youth had served no real jail time. The one instance he'd been 'fostered out' he had run away, but his foster family didn't want him back anyway.
All normal search avenues had been exhausted, and Haseejian was close to the very edge of his patience in this matter. He wanted Stanton caught and caught now. Every time he looked at this kid's mug shot he could picture the 'little bastard', as he was becoming known around the squad room, pumping three bullets into Mike's chest, the last one while his boss was on the floor and unconscious.
Chances were, if and when he was caught and charged, Stanton would be tried as a juvenile. Even shooting a cop wouldn't be enough to have him put away for long. And that fact had been eating away at the Armenian detective since the identification had been made. Norm Haseejian hadn't smiled in a long time, and that was not like him at all.
# # # # #
Dan was still in the waiting room when Steve and Jeannie returned from visiting Mike. She crossed the room quickly and wrapped him in a relieved and joyous hug. "Dan, he's awake, he's awake," she laughed, relaxing for the first time in days. He held her tightly then she pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes bright with happy tears.
"That's wonderful, Jeannie, it really is," he said genuinely, looking over at Steve, who was standing nearby, also looking upbeat but exhausted, as he knew they all were. They exchanged warm, grateful smiles, then Steve looked back at Mike's daughter.
"Come on, Jeannie," he said, "you promised."
Dan looked at her with a confused frown, as Jeannie turned back to Steve and gave him a loud cartoonish sigh. "All right, you win," she said with a chuckle as she looked around the waiting room for her purse, which waited for her on the couch.
The men looked at each other and grinned. It was wonderful to have the effervescent Jeannie they knew and loved back amongst them, if only for these few brief moments of respite from the tension surrounding her father. But for the first time since Monday, they all felt that maybe, just maybe, Mike was going to come out of all this the Mike Stone he had always been.
"What are you two…?" Dan asked.
Before she could say anything, Steve explained. "They're going to give Mike the night off, so to speak, and not start weaning him from the ventilator till tomorrow morning, so I made her promise me that we would both go home and get a good night's sleep so we could be here for him all day tomorrow and not be walking around like zombies."
"And I agreed," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she joined them. "So we're going home – well, homes. He's going back to Berkeley." She looked at Dan. "You should go home too," she said seriously. "You look beat."
He smiled. "I will. I just might go in and see your father for a few minutes, if they'll let me."
"Oh, I'm sure they will," Jeannie said encouragingly. "He'd love to see you." She gave him a peck on the cheek then moved past Steve towards the entrance and turned back. "And get some sleep, Dan, please. Mike'll know if you don't," she smiled as she left the room.
Snagging his jacket from the back of nearby chair, Steve stopped beside Dan as he began to follow. He smiled enigmatically then said softly, "You might want to wait till she gets here so you can go in to see Mike together." And with that he was out the door, leaving an open-mouthed Dan Robbins standing in his wake.
# # # # #
It was only 6:45 but it seemed so much later when Dan, gowned, gloved and masked, entered the Isolation room and quietly approached the bed. Mike's eyes were open and he turned his head as far as the ventilator would allow to see who this new visitor was. Beaming, Dan got closer, putting his hand on Mike's forearm and leaning forward slightly.
"How ya doin', boss?" he asked with a smile in his voice, sounding very much like Haseejian, and he was pleased to see Mike's eyes crinkle in warm recognition. "I told you those sandwiches would kill ya," he joked, knowing that Mike would be able to recognize the love and worry behind his words.
Mike's eyes shone with tears and his fingers moved. Dan slid his hand down Mike's forearm, grabbed his hand and squeezed. They stared at each other for several long moments.
Eventually Dan cleared his throat slightly. "Ah, you feeling up to another visitor?" he asked, and Mike blinked once very slowly. Dan smiled broadly under the mask. "I'll go get 'em," he said, giving Mike's hand another squeeze before letting it go.
When Dan moved out of his sight, Mike moved his head back to stare at the ceiling. Keeping his head turned made the tube irritate his throat even more and he was already extremely uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, letting the machine do the work, floating in a thin layer of consciousness that was quickly slipping away.
He thought he heard the door open and close again and fought to stay awake, but it was getting harder and harder. Then he felt a hand on his and he knew instantly that this one was different, this wasn't Dan or one of the guys.
With the last of his rapidly waning strength he opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the face that seemed to hang mere inches from his own. He blinked slowly, straining, and as the dark brown eyes began to solidify before him, a gloriously familiar voice crooned softly, "Hello, gorgeous!"
Tears sprung to his eyes and the beeps of the heart monitor suddenly started coming closer together. Maggie quickly reached up and laid her gloved hands on either side of his face. "Ssh ssh ssh," she comforted him, realizing that her sudden appearance may have been too much for him right now. "We don't want the nurses running in here thinking I gave you a heart attack," she said quietly, warmth in her voice.
She continued to stroke his beard-stubbled cheeks, staring into his eyes as he relaxed under her touch. From the corner of her eye she saw his left hand moving and realized he was trying to reach for her. She picked up his hand and brought it to her masked face, holding it against her cheek. The beeps of the monitor started to come further and further apart.
He was fighting against the pull of the morphine, desperately wanting to stay awake. She could see him weakening. "Go to sleep, don't fight it," she whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here with you… we'll have lots of time together… go to sleep…"
Gradually his eyes closed and the beeps evened out. She remained where she was, staring at his face, her smile slowly disappearing. Only when she was sure that he couldn't see or hear her anymore, the tears that she had been holding back began to fall. And for the first time she whispered the words that she been longing to say for a very long time.
"I love you."