Roger grasped his partner as he collapsed into his arms, his skin pale in the flashing lights and clammy to the touch.

"I gotcha kid, I gotcha."

There was barely a mumbled moan in response as Riggs struggled to get up and stand on his own two feet. Roger could feel him tensing, trying to pull away even though he didn't have the strength, but Roger held on, not about to let go of the young man who had been through so much.

There'd be hell to pay for the fight on the lawn and he still wasn't sure it was worth the toll it had taken on the man in front of him but for the first time Riggs had willingly put his trust in him, had sheltered with him under the coat, away from the glare of lights and frigid water, had saved him once again even on the verge of collapse. Roger held the weakly resisting man a bit tighter against his chest, ignoring the fire that raced down his arm.

"Sarge!"

Murtaugh squinted through the spraying water, barely catching the call through the bustle around. Paramedics had started CPR on the goon on his lawn but he couldn't find it within himself to care right then. His daughter was at the hospital with a couple of officers she knew and hopefully Trish would be there by now; his family was safe and that was all that mattered.

"Sarge! There's an ambulance waiting."

An officer he vaguely recognized ran up to him accompanied by two more paramedics carrying a stretcher between them. Riggs must have been conscious enough to see them coming and pushed his way free of the older man's hold, standing waveringly on his own but kept his hand in a tight grip on Rogers arm and vice versa. He blearily peered at the still oozing bullet wound in his partners arm, forgotten in the commotion to get the Murtaugh family safe.

"Fuck man, you should have been in hospital by now. I can handle things here."

Roger looked at him in disbelief as a paramedic pushed between them to inspect his arm and roughly push gauze over the hole. Between the two fluorescent clad men they grabbed an arm each and tried to haul him onto the stretcher completely ignoring the shirtless Riggs who watched emotionlessly even as he raised a hand in a rough wave.

"Woah! Stop! Let go of me dammit!" Murtaugh dug his feet in and tried to break free of his captors.

Riggs rushed over, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground, goosebumps clearly visible on the arms clamped firmly around his middle even in the dim night.

"What?! What's wrong?!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Riggs flinched back from the anger in his tome but Roger grabbed his arm before he could back away,

"You're coming with me, right now." He turned to the stunned paramedics still unsuccessfully trying to move him onto the stretcher.

"He's coming with us, Can't you see he's hurting?"

"I'm ok…" The words hadn't even finished coming out of his mouth before Roger interrupted,

"Shut up kid before they strap us both to this thing!"

Roger sat on the stretcher feeling all of his years and more but keeping hold of the other mans arm as one of the paramedics wrapped a foil blanket around Martin. Together they made a strange procession to the back of the ambulance with Martin dragging behind whilst Roger refused to let go and the paramedics concentrated on getting them both to the hospital.