I rested on the rear step of the ambulance, not knowing what to do. The ice pack numbed what little feeling I had in my fingers. I turned to look as another patrol car's lights stung my eyes. 

I created this. 

Two forensic officers carried out Tom's body, loading it into the van.

"Dexter?" Hank broke away from a group of officers and approached the ambulance.

"Yes, Sir?" I responded, my voice gruff and nasally.

"The case is being handed over to the Chicago Police Department. Give them what they need then I want you to have some time off."

His concern was touching but I couldn't.

"Can't do that, Sir." I shook my head, feeling orchestrated tears in my eyes. It sickened me. I didn't think I could be so disgusted in myself. Hank sat beside me,

"I know you want to do this for Tom," No, I want to do this to save my own selfish skin. "but beating yourself up isn't going to bring your partner back." My hand rubbed at the contusion he left on my neck. I wasn't trying to bring him back.
Hank paused, something playing on his mind,

"Forensics found drug residue on Tom's body. Do you know anything about that?"

"Drugs? I don't know, Hank." Tom was corrupted, that's why! "I saw him briefly when we met back up, but I was blindsided." Why am I lying for him? Why can't I just tell them the truth? Thomas betrayed me. Why can't I betray him? My guilt, shame and fear had been replaced by this anger that I couldn't express. My life was over. He did this. This was all his fault. His 'side job' had single-handily cost him his life and mine in one foul action.
I couldn't tell them this though. I couldn't give them a motive to suspect me.

"Where's your gun?" He asked.

"My gun?" I glance at the empty holster on my hip. "I'm not sure where it is. I was holding it when I got hit."

"I heard forensics say they found a weapon on the mezzanine floor. Must be yours then."

"Right. He knocked it out of my hands when he was trying to kill me. Thomas was trying to help me when..." Why couldn't I just say the truth!?

"It's alright, Browning. This wasn't your fault."

"Excuse me, Sir." The young paramedic darted around Hank, coming once again to inspect my nose. Her gloved hands plied the ice pack and gauze away from where I held it to my nose.
"Okay, the bleeding has stopped which is good but you'll need to come to County General anyway so they can reassess you. You also have some nasty contusions they'll want to check."
 I pressed my fingers tenderly to my puffy left eye.

"Thanks, Ma'am," I said, my voice nasally.

She smiled, "Yes, unfortunately that will be a side effect for a week or so, but it should get better as the swelling goes down."

"You said a week?" Hank asked curiously. I looked to her.

"Give or take," She replied.

"Perfect. Take that time off, Browning. I mean it." I nodded submissively before hopping into the Ambulance.