He started to become aware of his surroundings slowly, as if pushing through thick mud. He tried to move his legs but found it too hard and tiring; his right arm seemed immobile and as he tried to lift his left hand, found that it too was encumbered. His eyes opened with reluctance, and he stared unseeing at the green glow above him for several long seconds before he could focus enough to recognize the ceiling.
He felt lethargic and weak, and there was a throbbing pain in his right shoulder that demanded all his attention. Giving up on his right arm, knowing somehow it wasn't going to move, he tried to lift his left hand again then realized it was being held.
He refocused his gaze to the left and finally identified the problem: his partner, in a deep sleep in an overstuffed armchair, was holding fast to his hand. He closed his eyes in relief; he knew that Steve had spent the previous day with the Rutters, paying his respects and hopefully bringing Donny Lee's grieving family some kind of closure. And he had been worried; they didn't know these hill people, and from everything they had experienced in the past few days, anything could have happened.
He was anxious to find out what had taken place, but he also knew how exhausted, both physically and emotionally, his partner would be. This trip had become so much more dangerous than they could have ever imagined, and they were both incredibly lucky to be alive.
But they were. And they were still together.
With a relieved and affectionate smile, tightening his own grip, he sank back into the pillows and stared at his sleeping partner.
# # # # #
He woke with a snort and a start, his eyes snapping open. Briefly disoriented, he sat up quickly then regretted it immediately when his left calf connected solidly with the armchair. He tried, rather unsuccessfully, to stifle his gasp of pain, then looked at the bed guiltily and froze.
Above a warm smile, Mike's calm blue eyes were staring at him. Shaking his head slightly, Steve cocked his head. "How long have you been awake?" he asked with a tiny reassured smile.
Mike's smile grew into a grin. "Awhile," he said gently. "When did you get here?"
With a grateful sigh and trying not to grimace, Steve sat straighter in the chair, still holding his partner's hand. "Last night. You were out of it, so I thought I'd just keep you company."
"You've been here all night?" Mike asked with a frown.
"Unh-hunh," Steve nodded. They held each other's stare for several long seconds then Steve grinned and nodded towards Mike's right shoulder with his chin. "How are you feeling?"
Mike bobbled his head with a resigned half-smile. "You know those cartoons when one of the characters get flattened by a steam roller…" He ended the explanation with a chuckle.
Steve started to laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know exactly how you feel." He released Mike's hand and leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face and into his hair.
"How are you feeling?"
Steve cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "I'm tired, in every way." It was an admission he wouldn't make to just anyone but they had become so close that Mike was family to him, family he could confide in.
Staring at his young friend with worry, Mike reached out to him again. Steve smiled self-consciously and took hold of the older man's hand, reveling in the strong grip. Mike shook his hand and glared into Steve's eyes. "I want you to look after yourself, you hear me. I need you, Steve. I don't mean just right now, because of what's happening now. I mean…" He swallowed heavily, suddenly unable to continue.
Steve's smile built and he shook Mike's hand in return. "I know what you mean," he said quietly. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, and I don't mean just right now either." They stared at each other, both reliving the past few days, both knowing how lucky they had been.
"Are you in a lot of pain?" Mike asked quietly.
Steve smiled broadly, releasing Mike's hand, shaking his head and leaning back. "No, no… well, ah, it hurts, I'm not going to say it doesn't, but it's nothing I can't handle. I know I'm going to be hobbling around for another couple of weeks and that's a pain in the ass, but my arm is doing great, doesn't hurt when I use the crutches, and the bruise on my shoulder is just… colour now, it doesn't hurt anymore. It looks a lot worse than it feels."
Mike continued to stare at him, and after several silent seconds, Steve chuckled and shook his head, squirming in the chair. "Mike, believe me, okay? I'm fine."
His eyes narrowing, the older man finally relaxed and a warm smile touched his lips. "All right, I believe you." He knew Steve wanted to tell him about what had gone on at the Rutters, but he would have to do it at his own pace and in his own time. And the time wasn't right.
Exhaling loudly, Steve chuckled, continuing to shake his head. "Look, ah, I don't know about you but I'm hungry. I didn't have any dinner last night. You want something to eat?"
Mike, who was continuing to stare at the younger man, broadened his smile. "I could eat," he said lightly, and Steve laughed as he reached for the crutches. "No no no, stay there," the older man said, reaching for the nurse's call button laying on the bed close to his left hand. "They've got this handy little device." He pressed the button, raising his eyebrows with a closed-mouth grin.
They both looked towards the door and less than fifteen seconds later it opened and a smiling middle-aged nurse walked into the room. "Lieutenant Stone," she announced as she crossed to the far side of the bed, "I see you're finally awake. How are you feeling?"
Mike had turned his beatific smile her way. "Pretty good, thank you. Um, we were wondering if breakfast is on the menu this morning?" he asked pleasantly, including Steve in his nod.
The nurse glanced at Steve and smiled. "For the Inspector as well? Of course. Now, Lieutenant, Dr. O'Neil asked that we give you some oatmeal and cornbread, and a big glass of milk for breakfast. Is that all right with you?"
Mike's eyebrows had risen and he nodded vigorously. "Sounds wonderful. Thank you."
She turned her beaming smile at the handsome young man on the other side of the bed. "Inspector, would you like that as well?"
Steve grinned and nodded. "Sounds perfect, but could you substitute coffee for the milk, please?"
"You got it," she nodded and started for the door. As she opened it, she turned back. "Dr. O'Neil asked to be notified when you woke up, Lieutenant. He might make it here before your breakfast." Then she was gone.
# # # # #
"All right, Mike, just wait till we get the bed fully elevated, then we'll get you to slide off. Don't worry, we'll keep a hold of you. Then we'll get your robe on and you'll be on your own. How does that sound?"
"That sounds great. I've been horizontal for too long," Mike chuckled as the bed began to rise. He glanced at Rudy Olsen, who was standing near the door.
When the bed stopped moving, O'Neil stepped closer to Mike. "Okay, now this is gonna hurt, there's no getting around that. You'd be surprised how much we rely on that pesky collarbone to do even the most mundane things, like standing up and sitting down," he chuckled.
Mike snorted a laugh as he started to slide his legs over the edge of the bed and straighten up, O'Neil holding his left forearm as he used his stomach muscles to pull himself away from the bed. He gasped in pain and caught his breath, releasing it when he was upright.
"The worst is over," O'Neil said quickly and Mike glanced at him with a quick nod as he started to slide off the bed. The orderly assisting O'Neil put one hand on Mike's back, the other gently on his right elbow and, with the doctor still holding firm to Mike's left forearm, the San Francisco detective's feet made contact with the tile floor and he stood.
Everyone froze for a beat as Mike got his balance, then O'Neil nodded at the orderly and they both let go. Mike released a deeply breath then looked at the doctor, cocked his head and smiled. "You did it."
"Ah, no, I think you did it. Well done," O'Neil said with a chuckle. "Now let's get this robe on you and you're off." The orderly held the light blue hospital robe so Mike could get his left arm in the sleeve, then settled it over his shoulders and did up the cloth belt.
"Now I want you to walk slowly up and the down the corridor, here or anywhere in the hospital you want to go, for as long as you think you can. The only thing stopping you is your own stamina. When you feel yourself getting tired, just come on back here and Gary," he nodded at the orderly, "will page me and we'll get you back in bed. That sound good?"
Mike grinned at him. "That sounds great." He turned carefully to towards the door. "Rudy, you want to go for a walk?"
For the first time, Olsen smiled and he took a step forward. "I'd love to, Mike."
Raising his eyebrows with a facial shrug towards O'Neil, Mike took a few tentative steps towards the captain. Seemingly satisfied he could walk without too much pain, as he passed his superior officer he said jovially, "Don't just stand there – let's go!"
# # # # #
Steve had spent over an hour in the red brick Kearney Police Department building, giving his official statement to Sergeant Jim Pearson of the KSP and Kearney Sheriff Eli Noble. Though he had no official standing, San Francisco Narcotics Lieutenant Martin Pierce was also in attendance.
When they had finished, Steve had gotten in the patrol car with Sheriff Noble and driven across town to the impound lot. The others followed in a KSP cruiser.
Now, balancing on the crutches, grateful that his grip on the handles masked his trembling, Steve was staring at the dark green Galaxie. The others had stayed back several feet, allowing the young detective a few moments to deal with the initial shock of seeing just how severely the vehicle had been destroyed.
He exhaled loudly, and Sheriff Noble stepped silently to his side. "How, ah, how many?" Steve asked.
"Forty-seven," Noble said quietly, and watched as the younger man's eyebrows rose.
Steve moved closer to the back seat; all four doors were open. He bent down and looked inside; the front and back seats were pockmarked with the holes made when the bullets had been removed. Noble knew Steve was looking for the one that had torn through his partner's shoulder.
"How many shots went into the passenger compartment?"
"Fourteen."
Steve took a deep breath. "Which one hit Mike?"
"Ah, well," Noble took a breath then leaned into the back seat and pointed to a hole in the upholstery high up on the right side, "that one."
Nodding his thanks, Steve stepped back. "Can I, ah, can I see some of the slugs?"
Noble glanced at Pearson, and both pairs of eyes widened. Pearson turned towards a young officer hovering nearby and nodded. A few seconds later the young man returned with several evidence bags and he handed one to Pearson.
With another deep breath, Steve took one of the bags from the KSP sergeant. He had seen this type of ammunition before, and he knew it was what the Scobies had used against them, but to have an actual bullet in his hand was a totally different matter. They were longer and heavier then normal revolver bullets, and everything about them screamed death.
"You, ah, you can keep that if you want," Pearson offered tentatively.
Steve stared at the object in the plastic bag in his hand, then nodded slowly and slipped the bag into his pants pocket.
"I'm done," he said quietly as he turned his back and moved away from the car.