Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Streets of San Francisco or make any profit from them. They remain the property of Quinn Martin.

A/N: I've been a reviewer for over three years and have decided to take the plunge with my own first story. I've researched the medical information as carefully as possible and drawn on my own experience of working on the administration side of the British National Health Service for all my working life. I apologise in advance if there are any mistakes. The story is complete and I aim to post a chapter a day. Many thanks to Shergar who has checked the story over for me. I also owe a huge thank you to Keller12917 who has given me enormous help, advice and encouragement all along the way. I couldn't have done it without her.

The Value of Time

Chapter 1

It was a little after 10.00 pm on an unusually cool early October evening when two homicide detectives from the San Francisco Police Department in a tan LTD were on their way back from interviewing a liquor store owner about a recent robbery in which an innocent 22 year old bystander had been shot and killed three nights before. Although it was something the partners were well used to, it was always quite sobering to realise how easily a young life could be cut off in it's prime. They chatted in easygoing companionship as they drove along. Three years into their partnership together the two men were comfortable in their working relationship and also in the strong bond of friendship that had steadily grown between them. They trusted the other every day of their lives, knowing that in any difficult situation each would unfailingly watch the other's back. The older of the two by some twenty-five years decided to lighten the conversation.

"Okay, Buddy Boy, what's on the menu tonight then? Do you fancy a burger, pizza, chilli? You name it you can have it. I'm paying! In fact, I'm in such a good mood I'll even spring for pizza with no anchovies on either half!" The older man's blue eyes twinkled in the reflection of lights from cars coming from the opposite direction as he looked across at his young partner who was driving the LTD.

His partner of the last three years returned his look briefly with a look of incredulity on his face.

"What's this, Mike, you're paying? What's brought this on? You come into a windfall or something?" The young man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave out a loud chuckle.

"You may mock, Steve, but I happen to have had some very good news today and I'm in a mood to celebrate."

"Oh yeah! What good news? You had a bet on the gee-gees? I saw you talking to Barny Halliday on Friday while I was in the liquor store interviewing the store clerk. What did you do? Ask him to take a bet for you? You know that's naughty-naughty." He wagged his finger in the air. "If Olsen found out you'd placed a bet with a bookie's runner you'd be in real trouble." He smirked and giggled as he glanced briefly across at Mike.

"What me... bet on a horse? I've got more sense than to throw my money away on some nag that's probably still trying to reach the finish line before next Christmas. No, Buddy Boy, I heard from Meg Whittaker today about that old clock that I found in that garage sale I went to on Sunday. She's cleaned it up quite a bit already and she wants to take it to a dealer she knows. She has a strong feeling that it may be worth a dollar or two."

Steve's eyes grew large as he looked across at Mike.

"Really? You're kidding me. That old clock looked like it should've gone to the garbage dump not an antique dealer. Does she really think it may be worth cleaning up and fixing?"

"Well, she needs to see what the dealer thinks but her guess is it could be worth around..." As he was speaking the LTD turned the corner.

"What the hell...! Mike! Oh my God, Mike! There's a house on fire!" A three-story house, about fifty yards along the street, had flames spurting out of a first-floor side window and smoke was coming from several of the other windows on that level and the level above. A woman with a child about ten years old was standing in the front yard screaming. She was pulling away from the child who was trying to hold her back.

Steve pulled the car to a screeching halt opening the door as it came to a stop and ran towards the frantic woman. Mike briefly stayed in the car, radio in hand calling for emergency services before he too exited the car and dashed across the grass in front of the house.

"Help me! Somebody help me! My husband... my baby... they're still in there! Oh please, you have to help me. HELP!"

The child at the side of her was holding onto her arm and trying to pull her back as the woman was torn between staying with her child and running towards the house.

"Mommy... no don't! Please Mommy you can't leave me!" Their anguished, pleading cries were alerting neighbours in nearby houses. People began running out of their houses in their nightclothes towards the woman and child on the grass.

"Mommy, where's Daddy? Where's Rosa?"

Steve reached the woman. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Is there anyone still in there?" he shouted to the woman.

"My husband got us out, but he's gone back in again. My baby. She's still in there."

"Where?... Where in the house is she?"

"In her cot... U-u-upstairs... Third floor at the back of the house! Oh please, you have to get my b-b-baby out!"

The woman was beside herself with fear. Her eyes were large with shock and tears were streaming down her face.

"Alright... shush... shush... Okay, Ma'am. I'm going in. I'll get her out... but you must wait here! Stay with your daughter!"

He turned to run towards the house stripping off his beige raincoat as he ran.

"Steve... wait... Steve!" He could hear Mike screaming at him to be heard.

Other neighbours had now gathered in front of the house, and one man had brought a ladder round from the side of his house, but just as he went to lean it to the frame of an upper window, there was a sudden blast and flames spewed out of the window and glass showered down from above.

"Get back... all of you... get back!" Mike frantically shouted. "The fire department are on their way. Stay back I tell you!" he yelled as another made to follow Steve as he ran full pelt towards the burning house, now well alight from several windows. More breaking glass could be heard and felt as it showered down from above.

"STEVE... don't... wait for the fire department... they're on their way!" But Steve had ears for no-one as he felt in his pants pocket for a handkerchief and tied it around his mouth then draped the coat over his head and ran through the open front door. He could see the stairs ahead of him, but the smoke was thick and choking. He took a lungful of air, buried his face in his coat and started to race up the stairs, flames already beginning to lick through the bannisters from the hall below.

"STEVE! WAIT! Oh my God, STEVE!" Mike screamed at his young partner as he disappeared into the choking smoke. He, too, pulled his overcoat over his head, ran to the open front door and made to follow him up the stairs.

"Steve, don't be a fool," he shouted frantically up the stairs. Suddenly he heard Steve shout.

"Mike! Are you there, Mike? There's a man here on the stairs. Help me get him up." Mike took about four steps upwards. The smoke was so thick by now he could hardly see a hand in front of him and he barged into the back of a hard body.

"Oomph! Is that you, Steve? What?... Who?... Is he unconscious? Is the baby there?" As Steve turned the man over they could both see he was on the verge of unconsciousness. There was no sign of the baby. They hauled him to his feet.

"Mike, you take him! Get him out of here! I'm going up!"

"You can't, Steve, it's too risky! It's suicide! Turn back. The fire department are on the way. Let the firemen do it... please!" He grabbed Steve's arm and pulled him to look at him. A brief imploring look from Mike passed between them through the smoke. Steve just gave a small grin and squeezed Mike's arm.

"You know that I have to do this, Mike. You get him out. I'll be okay." Both of them knew the child's only hope was for one of them to carry on up in the burning house. The fire department still hadn't arrived. Steve had already pushed the full weight of the near-unconscious man onto Mike and, as he staggered under the weight, he knew he had to get the man outside and to safety. Flames were beginning to lick around their feet. They hadn't got long. The choking smoke was unbearable.

"For God's sake, Steve... be careful... you can't risk..." But Steve had already disappeared upwards into the choking smoke. Mike could feel the heat from the flames under the stairs licking around his lower legs as he put his arm around the waist of the man and took his weight as he inched his way back down the staircase. The acrid smoke was taking his breath away and he was struggling to get his breath when, through the smoke, he saw the open door ahead of him with flames licking at the door jambs. He hauled the heavy weight of the man through the front door, stumbling as he did so, and took several more steps then, as several pairs of hands reached out to grab his burden, his legs collapsed under him as he fought to get air into his tortured lungs. Grasping hands pulled him away from the flames.

The sound of the fire truck sirens rent the air and the screeching hiss of the air brakes announced the arrival of the truck as, one by one, the firemen went about their well-rehearsed routines of rolling out hoses and connecting them to the fire hydrant. The fire chief in his white helmet ran across to Mike.

"Is everybody out?" he shouted above the fierce crackling of the flames.

"No, my partner's in there and there's a baby still in there. He's trying to find her and get her out. Third floor I think." Mike's lungs screamed for air as he inhaled deeply of the cool night air as he was pulled further away from the burning house. One of the firemen put an oxygen mask on his face. As he sat on the grass breathing deeply on the oxygen his heart was filled with unbelievable terror for Steve.

"Matt, Harry, get your BA's on and see if you can get a hose in there. There's a guy and a baby still inside somewhere." The fire chief issued his orders and the men knew what was expected of them, but the fire was burning so fiercely now there was no chance of an entry through the front door. The stairs to the first floor were well alight so there was no way up that way... and, more importantly, no way down for Steve.

As Steve reached the top of the stairs, the smoke was so thick he could barely see, and the heat was becoming unbearable. He felt his way as fast as he could, quickly scanning from room to room but could find no indication of a baby's room. Breathing was becoming almost impossible. There was no clean air to be had. He kept himself as low as possible. The woman had said third floor, so he knew he had to go up still further to the floor above. Fortunately, the flames had not yet reached the upper floor at the rear of the house, but the thick smoke was percolating up and it encompassed everything in its path. He reached the upper landing and fell to his knees. His lungs were bursting. He was coughing and choking. Dizziness was overcoming him. He couldn't go on. He couldn't. He knew he was on the verge of passing out. He didn't want to die here on this landing in this burning house. From somewhere in the recesses of his brain he remembered a phrase an elderly fireman once told him... 'If you can't get the victim out of the fire, don't let it consume you too'. He should get himself out. He should abandon the search and save himself. As fast as the thought came to him he dismissed it. No, he wasn't going to give up on the child. He'd rather die first... and in that moment, he knew without a doubt he probably would. The smoke... the choking smoke... no more... please... no more. His head felt like it was spinning in a vortex. Suddenly he heard a weak cry... a baby's cry. It was all he needed to spur him on. He shook his head trying to clear it. It was coming from his left. He crawled on his hands and knees forcing himself to stay alert. There it was again! He felt an open doorway and inched his way inside. His brain knew this had to be his last chance to find her. This has to be it. She had to be in here. He knew he couldn't go on much longer. She had to be in here! His chest was burning from the force of a racking cough.

The cry came again but weaker this time. It was definitely coming from within the room. He inched his way further in. He touched wood. He felt over it. A chest of drawers maybe? He inched further. There was a fluffy rug on the floor under his knees. A small, pink rabbit was lying to the side of it. He reached forward. Wood again. Bars. A cot. He hauled himself up using the bars for leverage. His hand felt through the smoke and he could just about make out the form of a small child. He reached into the cot. She whimpered again... oh so faintly. He gathered her up and, wrapping the blanket that was over her around her, he turned back towards where he hoped the door was. He didn't know how he was going to get out but get out he must! This child had to live. He had to live. He wasn't going to give up. Not now he'd got this far. Suddenly an eerie light appeared where he thought the doorway to be. Crackling! Flames! Flames were licking along the landing blocking his route. Suddenly there was an enormous crash as part of the staircase gave way and crashed to the flaming floors below. His escape route was well and truly gone.

He knew he had to steady himself and think. A window! There had to be a window. Still keeping as low as possible, he reached out feeling to his right inching sideways all the time, coughing with his lungs almost at bursting point. Nothing but a wall. He retraced the few steps he'd taken and started to inch to his left. A window sill! Glass! "Thank you, God!" He felt for the catch. The window opened. Suddenly he was able to fill his lungs with air... smoky air... but infinitely less acrid than the air in the room. He looked out and down. It seemed an impossibly long drop down to the ground below maybe twenty five or thirty feet.

"HELP! HELP!" he screamed towards men beneath him.

Faces looked up and several firemen saw him at the window. They gathered beneath him and shouted for a ladder.

"There's no time. I'm going to drop her down." He shouted weakly down to them coughing desperately. "Catch her! Oh please, God, help them!"

He held the baby out at arm's length and when he could see the men beneath, he let her go. He heard a cheer ring out from below. They'd got her!

"We've got her! She's safe. Hang on! We're putting a ladder up." The heat building up behind him was intense as the draught from the window drew it into the room and fanned the flames. He had no choice. He couldn't stay in the room. He climbed up till he was sitting on the sill sideways and began to lower himself over the edge. If he could just hang on till they got the ladder up.

He could see the ladder coming closer. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion that rent his ears as flames whooshed through the room behind him. He felt the force of the air push him backwards and he could hold on no longer. He knew he was falling... falling... arms flailing... legs flailing... the ground coming up to meet him. Then pain... unbearable pain... and then, as blackness enfolded him, he heard a scream...

"STEVE! Nooooooooooo!"