My partner's dying and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. He took a bullet in the side, and nothing I do seems to stop the bleeding. His life is slowly seeping away and I can't stop it. I haven't felt this useless since...

Best not to think about it. Not now. Best to concentrate on the moment, about what I can do here and now and not what I failed to do in the past. I take off my shirt, folding it up into pad to press against his side. The one I made from his shirt is already soaked through.

"Chris..."

He shouldn't be talking, should be saving his breath. For what, I don't know. That's the irony isn't it? We know that CI5 are on their way - we managed to get a call through before everything turned to crap - but we also know that they're going to get here too late to do anything for my partner. Me, I'm fine. Got away without even a scratch, but Sam...

It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. All the times he's dragged my ass out of the fire, and I can't even keep him alive long enough for help to get here. He's stayed with me through car bombs and landmines, carried me on his back across the Serengeti, and I can't stop the bleeding...

"Chris..." He's more insistent this time, and I pay attention. I know him well enough to know that until he gets whatever it is off his chest he'll persist. And that will only weaken him further. He needs to save his breath.

"Get her out of here." He nods towards the girl, the one I'd forgotten about, the one the mission was about. A straightforward retrieval operation, one we'd done a hundred times before. Straight in, straight out again with the girl, a potential witness in a high profile mob trial. Only it didn't go quite as straightforward as I thought it would. We met opposition. We were already in trouble even before Sam got shot - that's why we'd called for backup. And then the shit really hit the fan.

"Chris! Get her out of here!"

I heard you the first time, Sam. No need to yell. No need to grasp my wrist hard and shake it. I watch as he lets go, falling back slightly as the effort leaves him drained. His hand was covered in blood, and now so is my wrist. A bracelet of blood - Sam's blood. I stare at it.

"I'm not leaving you." Is that my voice?

Must be, because he closes his eyes for a second, seeking the reserves to argue with me. He will argue with me, I know that much. We frequently argue. That's part and parcel of being partners, having different ideas about a case and needing to get them across, but it never gets personal.

It's personal now. He opens his eyes again, and I'm scared by the desperation I see in them. "I'll be fine." We both know he's lying, so what's the point of saying it. "You need to get her out of here. That's our mission, remember?" Weak as the words are he manages to inject them with his normal level of sarcasm. Bastard.

"Get her out of here, Chris. Please." Please don't sit here and watch me die. He doesn't have to say the words. I can hear them anyway. He knows I will.

I turn and look at the girl. Early twenties, what Sam would call a 'looker'. She's not much of a looker now. She's curled up into a ball, sobbing into her knees. And so she should be. This is all her fault.

She was supposed to keep down. I heard Sam tell her to keep down. But no, she couldn't could she? She had to pop up, and the only thing Sam could shield her with was himself. He took the bullet meant for her, and now it's his life running out of him into the ground, not hers. It should be hers. If I had any more bullets left I'd shoot her myself. I lost my wife to a bullet, and now I'm going to lose my best friend.

"Chris..."

"Okay." The word is harsh, harsher than he deserves. It shouldn't end like this, hidden away in a dark room while we're hunted by mob assassins. No one deserves this, least of all Sam.

I stumble to my feet, gesturing with my empty gun to the girl that she should follow suit. She stares at me, terrified. I wonder how I look, covered with blood and half crazed with grief. No wonder she's scared. I find that I don't really care. "Up," I snarl. That gets her moving. The sobbing doesn't stop, but at least she's moving, stumbling up the steps, keeping as far away from me as possible.

I turn back to Sam. "When Backup and Malone get here..."

"I know," he interrupts, but I find that I have to finish the sentence anyway.

"We'll come back for you, I promise." Empty words, meant to soothe, and he accepts them with a wry smile, letting me have the lie.

"I know."

I turn and follow the girl up the steps, my eyes burning. Only a few steps up and I have to stop, have to turn and look back at him, wishing we had more time. So much to say and I can't find the words. Instead I just stare at him. He looks scared, and determined at the same time.

"See you in hell," he says.

Oh god. I can't bear it. Backup, Spencer, anyone. Get here. Oh god, get here. Move heaven and earth and get here soon enough. I turn and stagger up the rest of the steps, tears now falling unheeded down my face.

My partner's dying and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. Except leave.