I want to thank the ever-faithful and insightful Sylvia Elaine for her constant cheer-leading, not only for me but for every writer on this site, her well thought-out and always well-considered reviews, her love of 'our boys' and her suggestion that led to this short story. And to everyone else who continues to keep this very special show and these very special men alive in our hearts and minds.
Lieutenant Mike Stone glanced up from the chair behind his desk, looking over the top of his reading glasses at the young man who was ambling back into the Homicide office. The older man noted that Inspector Steve Keller, his partner for a little more than five years, once again looked troubled, like his mind was somewhere else and definitely not on his job. It hadn't been for a couple of days now.
Choosing to ignore it, as he had been doing, Mike refocused on the report before him. With a tired sigh, peripherally noting that Steve had dropped into his own chair in the bullpen, Mike picked up his pen, sighed the last page of the report and closed the file, getting up from his desk and taking off his glasses. He picked up the folder and exited his office, approaching his partner's desk, and dropped tiredly into the guest chair.
Steve glanced up, but didn't meet Mike's eyes, something he had been doing a lot lately. "Everything okay?"
Mike tossed the report onto the desk. "Yeah, it's perfect," he said with a tight perfunctory smile. When there was no further response, he ventured, "So, have you decided what you're going to do on your vacation?" He knew that Steve had requested a week off, but the younger man hadn't offered a clue as to what he was going to do with his time.
With a wry smile reminiscent of the Steve he usually was, the inspector shook his head with a slight chuckle. "You mean my vacation without you?" The whole subject of vacations had become a running joke between them over the years.
"Yeah, your vacation without me," Mike echoed with a laugh.
Continuing to chuckle but still not meeting his partner's direct gaze, Steve leaned back in his chair. "No, actually, I think I'm just gonna get in the car and drive, see where I end up, you know."
Hesitating a beat, knowing he wasn't being told the truth and wondering why, Mike studied his young friend before nodding. "Yeah, I understand. Well," he said with a heavy sigh, getting to his feet, "do me a favor and drive safe, will ya? I want you back here in one piece."
Still looking at his desk, Steve nodded with a laugh and a grin. "Yeah, I will, I promise. So, what are you gonna do?" He knew that Mike had also put in for some time off; they had been working incredibly hard recently and both were exhausted both mentally and physically. It wasn't often that they had taken vacations at the same time, so this was an exception.
Mike shrugged. "I don' know yet. I've been neglecting some repairs around the house and I need to get those done. Then I might just head upstate for a couple of days, do some fishin', maybe catch a couple of ballgames."
Steve glanced up. "Sounds good."
"Yeah. Listen, why don't you take off now, get a head start. I'll look after the report and all that."
"You sure?"
Mike smiled affectionately. "Yeah, I'm sure. Get outa here." He slapped Steve on the shoulder as he headed back towards his office, then watched surreptitiously as Steve cleaned up the top of his desk, throwing some papers in a drawer, the rest in the wastepaper basket before heading out the door with a final nod goodbye at his partner.
An hour later, having finished up the paperwork that still needed his attention, and with the office now almost empty, Mike strolled out of his office and crossed to his partner's desk, sitting in his chair and opening the top drawer. He felt slightly guilty, but he knew Steve was holding something back from him and he wanted to find out what it was. It was very uncharacteristic of the young man to be so reticent to share his life with his old friend, and Mike was more than a little disturbed.
Finding nothing in the top drawer, Mike was reaching for the second drawer when some pieces of paper in the waste basket caught his eye. He picked a couple of them out and glanced at the messages. One name was unfamiliar but tickled something in the back of his mind. Pocketing the paper with the name and phone number, he got up and drifted back into his office. With a final glance to make sure he had put everything away, he snagged his hat and jacket from the coatrack and crossed the room to exit.
# # # # #
Closing the zipper on his suitcase, Steve took one last look around his living room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. With a loud sigh, he picked up the suitcase and his car keys and, locking the front door after him, made his way down the steps in the early morning sunshine. Putting the suitcase on the passenger seat, he glanced up at the apartment as he started the car and headed out.
Traffic was light so it didn't take as long to get to his destination as it would normally have taken, but it did give him more time to think, something he had been trying to avoid the past few days. He hated not being able to come clean with his partner, but what he was about to do could have ramifications that would change both their lives, and he wanted to be absolutely sure of everything before he had to begin to have 'the conversation' with Mike should that become necessary.
He pulled close to the barrier of the long-term parking lot and pressed the button for the ticket. Slipping it onto the dashboard, he parked the Porsche, grabbed his suitcase and headed for the terminal. His flight wasn't for another hour, so he knew he had plenty of time – plenty of more time to think, he shook his head with a melancholy sigh as he crossed the parking lot of the San Francisco International Airport.
# # # # #
Mike was sitting on his living room sofa, glasses on and feet up on the coffee table. A rapidly cooling cup of coffee was in one hand, the piece of paper he had retrieved from Steve's wastepaper basket in the other.
He leaned forward and put the cup down, then reached for the phone on the small table beside him and relocated it to the coffee table. He dialed a familiar number and settled back, waiting.
"Rudy? Hi, it's Mike," he said quickly when his old friend answered. "Look, I ah -… no, no, I don't go in till Monday morning…. Right… Look, I need you to do a favor for me, will ya? I'm on vacation, remember? … Yeah, right. Anyway, it's a name and a number… No, it's, ah, it's personal…. Yeah, anytime tomorrow will be fine… Thanks. The name is D. Fremont and the number is 703-632-1000… Yeah, that's right…. No, ah, this is on the Q.T., okay?... Yeah, I know, and I'll take the heat… Yeah, right, okay, well, I'll be here all day tomorrow so call me anytime…. Thanks, Rudy. Hey, ah, say hi to Marie for me, will ya?... Yeah, goodbye."
Mike hung up and sat there silently, staring at the piece of paper in his hand.
# # # # #
The bright Sunday morning sunshine was in his eyes as Steve pulled the rented sedan up to the guard station. His window was already rolled down and, as the dark blue uniformed officer approached the car, he took off his dark glasses and held up his gold star and I.D. "Steven Keller, I'm here to see Agent Fremont."
The young officer consulted the clipboard he held in his hand, his eyes quickly scanning the list of names. "Ah, yes, sir, I have your name on the list. If you could just pull your car over there," he pointed towards a few parking spaces just on the other side of the barrier, "and Agent Fremont will be with you momentarily."
Smiling, Steve pocketed his I.D. and shield as the guard strode back into the guards shack and picked up the telephone receiver. As the boom lifted, Steve drove onto the grounds and parked in the designated spot, turning off the car and waiting.
It was only a couple of minutes until he spotted a dark-suited, brown-haired man just a few years older than himself approaching the rental car. As Steve got out, the man held out his hand. "Inspector Keller? I'm Special Agent Fremont. Call me Doug."
They shook hands. "Call me Steve."
With a broad grin, Fremont nodded. "Noted. Well, Steve, welcome to Quantico."
# # # # #
"Mister Stone, when you're finished, you can put your bag in the closet right there," the nurse pointed to the door beside the bathroom. "Doctor Robinson will be in to see you in about an hour, so just take your time."
Nodding his thanks, Mike tossed his overnight bag onto the bed, noting the neatly folded light blue garment lying over the railing at its foot. With a heavy sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and glanced around the small room. He smiled inwardly, remembering the nurse's sympathetic look when he'd checked in minutes ago.
"Are you here alone, sir?"
"Yes, ah, my daughter's at college in Arizona and, ah, and, well, I don't have anyone else."
It had felt strange saying that, knowing it wasn't true, but he hadn't told Steve about any of this; he knew the younger man had something going on in his own life that he felt unable to share, and Mike, though worried, knew he had to give Steve his own space. If he wanted Mike to know, then eventually he would tell him.
And now, of course, Mike was keeping something from Steve, not wanting to add any additional burden to what, Mike suspected, was already a potentially life-changing dilemma in his partner's young life.