"I think he's out for the night," Steve said quietly. He glanced at his watch. "This might be a good time to leave before the nurses have to kick us out. Maggie, can I give you a lift to Dan's?"

"Oh," Maggie shot a quick look at Jeannie, "I moved into Mike's place. Jeannie thought it might be a good idea, and I thought so too, so we took what little I brought with me over there earlier this afternoon, before all this," she gestured towards the bed, "started."

"Wow, you move fast," Steve said with a sly chuckle, and Maggie whacked him lightly on the arm. Jeannie laughed quietly as she got to her feet and leaned over the bed, giving her father a very light kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, Daddy," she whispered, relieved when he didn't show any sign of responding. She turned away from the bed. "He must be exhausted."

"I know I am," said Maggie softly. "It'll feel good to get a good nights sleep."

"Yes, in the bed you'll be sleeping in for the rest of your life," Steve chuckled suggestively, and Maggie swatted him again.

"Keep it up," she said in her low, dusky voice, "and you'll be sharing a room with him." She pointed at Mike.

Chuckling still, he walked towards the door and Jeannie joined him; they turned away, allowing Maggie her privacy. She leaned over the bed, staring at the sleeping Mike. She put a hand very lightly on his cheek, hoping she wouldn't wake him. "Sleep well, darling, I'll see you in the morning." He didn't move, so she leaned closer and kissed his forehead.

# # # # #

The only light on was the green banker's lamp on a desk in the middle of the room. The Armenian detective was hunched over, leaning on his left arm as he flipped through the pages of a thick file. He started to turn another page, stopped, leaned back with a tired sigh and ran both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes.

"Why don't you go home and get some sleep?" came a quiet voice from the hallway door and Haseejian looked up, surprised he was not alone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, but there was affection behind the harsh words.

Dan Robbins pushed himself away from the doorframe he was leaning against and crossed the squadroom towards the desk. "I figured it was time I got back to work."

Haseejian brightened. "Does that mean that Mike is finally out of the woods?"

Smiling, Dan nodded. "Yep, it sure does. He kicked me out of his room this morning."

Haseejian let his head fall back and he grinned, chuckling. His relief was palpable. "Wow, that is the best news I've heard in days. Have a seat," he said, gesturing at the second chair. As Dan dropped into it, he continued, "I've been meaning to drop by the hospital again but I've just been so caught up in this." He gestured at the stacks of files and reports on the desk.

"Yeah, I heard. Hey, Dan asked me to give you a hand on this, you know, a second pair of eyes. Are you okay with that?"

Haseejian looked at him noncommittally, and Dan couldn't tell what was going through his mind. The older man's eyes dropped to the desktop then back up. "Sure, why not?" he said finally. "I could use a fresh approach."

Dan relaxed but tried not to show it outwardly. He nodded soberly. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I felt so helpless when Mike was shot, like I should have been there to stop it, you know what I mean?"

Haseejian nodded sadly with a knowing smile. "Unfortunately, I think we all know how you feel. Let's hope nailing this little bastard'll help."

Dan nodded as well and they fell into an uneasy silence. Eventually Haseejian glanced at his watch. "You know, you're right. It's late, and I don't think you should start going over anything right now. Why don't we call it a night and start fresh in the morning?"

Smiling in earnest now, Dan got to his feet. "I think that a great idea. Come on, I'll walk you out."

# # # # #

Jeannie put the cup of tea on the table in front of Maggie and sat at the other side of the kitchen table. "Thanks," Maggie said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. "It's getting chilly out there."

"Well, it is December," Jeannie said with a smile, "but it's nothing compared to the winters back east, I'm sure."

"Oh ho, you can say that again. I'm not going to miss those."

Jeannie chuckled, then looked down at her own mug, her smile disappearing. "Maggie, there's something I've got to tell you about Mike. I don't think Dan has yet and I think you need to know."

Suddenly anxious but trying not to show it, Maggie put her mug down. "What is it?"

Jeannie took a deep breath, as if not knowing where to start. "Even Mike doesn't know this yet, but it's only a matter of time." She paused, but when she realized her hesitation was only making the older woman more concerned, she said quietly, "Maggie, they had to remove part of Mike's right lung after he was shot. The bullet disintegrated and the damage was just too bad and they couldn't save the upper lobe of his right lung."

Maggie had put one hand to her mouth, her eyes knotted in worry. "Is he going to be okay?"

Smiling reassuringly, Jeannie nodded and put a hand on Maggie's forearm. "The doctors say he's going to be perfectly fine, lots of people only have one lung and he just lost part of one lung, so he's going to be okay." She paused. "The problem is, the police department won't allow him to work the streets anymore. It has something to do with the union, and insurance and health concerns. But the bottom line is, he won't be able to go back to the job he had, the job he loves… His days as a front line homicide detective are over."

Maggie looked away and Jeannie could see her eyes brighten with tears. "That job is his life," she said softly, and Jeannie smiled; she had used those exact words. Maggie turned back. "When are you going to tell him?"

Jeannie sighed and sat back slightly, putting both hands around her mug. She shook her head. "I have no idea. We're not even sure who should tell him – the doctors, me, Steve… I just know I want him to be a lot further along health-wise before we have to hit him with something like this."

"And he still doesn't know about the assassinations either, does he?"

Jeannie shook her head again. "Nope." They sat in silence for several long moments. "Well, I'm drained. Today took a lot out of everybody, I think. I'm going to go to bed." She stood, taking her mug to the sink. "I've changed the sheets on the bed and there's fresh linens in Mike's bathroom." She crossed to the table and bent down to give Maggie a peck on the cheek. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

Maggie smiled affectionately as Jeannie headed out of the kitchen. "Thank you, Jeannie, you sleep well too." She remained at the table, her smile slowly disappearing as thought about Mike, and herself, and their future together.

# # # # #

"Well, good morning. You're looking a lot better," Dr. Webster smiled as he let the heavy wooden door close behind him. "The Demerol seems to be doing it's job."

Mike smiled, nodding. "I feel a lot better, doc, thanks."

"Good to see." As he took the stethoscope out of his coat pocket, Webster glanced around the room. "I don't think I've been in here with just you before – you always seem to have visitors," he chuckled.

"Yeah," Mike said quietly, happily, "I have a lot of support."

"Lucky man, a lot of our patients seem to be here on their own. Okay," he continued as he put the tips of the stethoscope in his ears, "let's have a listen to your lungs." He helped Mike sit up and opened his pajama top. "Okay, deep breaths."

Webster started by placing the diaphragm high on the left side of Mike's chest, working his way down and then on the right side. "Okay, lean forward a little, please," and he slid his arm under the pajama top, taking the readings through Mike's back.

"There, you can lean back now," he said, slipping the tips out of his ears and helping Mike to lay back against the pillows. As he pushed Mike's left sleeve up, Webster said, "Everything sounds fine. You're doing very well." He picked up the blood pressure cuff from the bedside table.

Watching as the doctor slipped the cuff around his upper arm and velcroed it closed, Mike said quietly, "Doc, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Webster answered as he began to inflate the cuff.

"Why did you only listen for sounds from two places on my right side?"

Webster froze slightly, not meeting Mike's eyes, then continued to inflate the cuff. "What do you mean?"

"I've had a lot of doctors listen to my lungs over the years, from way back in the war and every year for my physical. I know we all have three lobes in each lung and you listen to all three," Mike was speaking slowly, his voice low, staring at the doctor who wouldn't meet his eyes. "So how come you only listened at two places on my right side, center and low?"

Webster, knowing he was caught out and silently cursing himself, cleared his throat slightly, briefly bit his lip and smiled wanly. He finished inflating the cuff, slipped the stethoscope diagram underneath it and began to release the pressure, silently watching the readings. Mike's stare never left his face.

Webster took his stethoscope off and stuffed it back in his pocket, undid the BP cuff and put it back on the table. Then he finally met Mike's eyes.

"The bullet that went into the right side of your chest was frangible. When it hit the rib, both the rib and the bullet fragmented and shredded the upper lobe of your right lung. There was just too much damage. Dr. Somerset tried for two days to save your lung, and in the end the only thing he could do was remove the upper lobe. You're healing extremely well, the rest of the lung is perfectly healthy and you'll have no lasting effects."

"Then why didn't anyone tell me before now?" Mike asked, his expression remaining neutral.

"Maybe they wanted you to be feeling a little better before you were told. They really care about you and I'm sure they just felt it was something that should be explained when you were lucid enough to fully understand."

Mike finally looked away. "Thanks, doc," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," Webster said softly, patting his patient's arm sympathetically. He knew this is not the way Jeannie and Steve wanted Mike to find out, but he had been given no choice. He couldn't lie when asked such a direct question; now he only hoped they understood. "You just take it easy, I'm sure everyone'll be in to see you shortly," he said awkwardly and turned abruptly to leave the room.

When the door closed, Mike sank back even further into the pillows. He closed his eyes. He knew full well what the implications of this new revelation were, and tears started to trickle down his cheeks. He took breaths as deep as he could without pain as he fought to get a grip on his emotions, hoping that no one would walk through that door before he was once more in control.