There was a warm hand on his shoulder, the gentle squeeze enough to ease some of the terror he was feeling.
The ground below was cold, the gravel digging into the expensive fabric of his dress pants, making his injured knee hurt even more.
Up above, an eerie silence only added to his confusion.
Without any recollection of where he was or what had happened, he relied on the signals sent from the hand holding him down, the connection letting him know that he wasn't alone, the gentle pressure keeping him from moving too much.
Quiet words were whispered, reassurances that he couldn't hear past the rushing of blood in his ears.
He tried to shift, yet the sheer thought sent waves of pain through his body, threatening to drag him back to comfortable oblivion.
Mike? Where was Mike?
He heard himself call for his partner, even though the words never left his lips.
What had happened? And where was Mike?
He wanted to get up but his body no longer responded to his urgent requests. Instead, a warm fog surrounded his mind, taking away all his fears, and with it, consciousness.
Steve woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, confused and frightened.
It took several moments of listening to the clock in the hallway ticking away peacefully for his mind to settle down, making him realize he was in the comforts and safety of his bed.
The intense dream had shaken him to the core, his shoulder feeling warm as though somebody's hand was still there, holding him down.
Somewhere in the distance, the wailing of sirens made his skin scrawl, and he drew in a shuddered breath, wondering what harbingers were waiting on the horizon