There For Each Other
"About a year ago you got a package in the mail with $25,000 in it, right? The package was followed by a phone call inviting you to spend it and lay off a dope dealer named Fred Charney. Instead of which you turned it in and arrested him. Then they tried to threaten you and bust you up. Now, although you're still poor, you're also still walking around. That marks you as heavy and honest for the men Ben works with and they backed off." – Maggie Jarris, "Till Death Do Us Part" (Season 5)
He stepped out of the shower after shaking the water from his head and reached for the towel he had dropped on the toilet seat, running it up his face and onto his hair. He glanced at the large mirror behind the sink with a long-suffering smirk; as it had after every shower he had taken since he'd moved in, it was opaque with the condensation from the hot water.
As dry as he knew he was going to get, he tied the large white towel around his waist then reached out and wiped a circle into the thin film of water, bending over slightly to try to catch a glimpse of his still-wet hair in the reflection. He really did need to get a haircut, he admitted to himself with a wry chuckle. Mike had been good-naturedly bugging him for a few days now; he'd try to find time tomorrow to get it cut.
He padded into the bedroom to change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It felt good to be out of the shirt and tie. They had been incredibly busy for the past few weeks and it was good to get home before midnight for a change. He'd dropped Mike off about a half hour ago. It had taken no time at all to get from Potrero to his apartment; traffic was mercifully light and he found a parking spot right in front of his building.
He snapped on the overhead light as he entered the kitchen and opened the fridge door, reaching for a cold can of Bud in the door. His eyes travelled over the almost empty shelves; there really was nothing to eat. He straightened up and shut the door, opening the can and taking a deep draught before he began to open the cupboard doors, looking for something, anything, to accompany the beer. He and Mike had managed to grab a hamburger earlier in the evening so he wasn't starving, but it would be nice to be able to wash something down with the cold brew.
He was opening the last cupboard when the phone rang. With a groan, he closed the cupboard door and, can still in hand, padded wearily into the living room, dropping heavily onto the couch before picking up the phone and putting it on his lap. Shaking his head with a heavy sigh, he picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. "This better be good, Mike, you told me we'd have the –"
"Steve…"
He froze. It was Mike's voice, he knew that with certainty, but the one word, his name, had sounded thin and strained. He sat forward, the hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck bristling with a sudden fear. "Mike, what's wrong?"
"I, ah, I need you come over, okay…?"
The voice sounded so disturbed and far away he could barely hear it above the sudden pounding of his own heart.
"What's wrong? Mike -?"
"Just… just come over, okay? I need you, buddy boy…" The line went dead.
Steve took the receiver away from his ear and stared at it blankly. Then he shot to his feet, dropping the phone onto the couch and slamming the beer can onto the coffee table. Sockless, he stepped into his sneakers as he grabbed his wallet and car keys, barely taking the time to lock the front door before sprinting down the stairs to the tan LTD, its engine still warm.
He squealed it into a tight three-point turn, not even bothering to stop at the top of the street before turning left onto Montgomery, heading south towards Potrero. Traffic seemed to be even lighter, but he didn't notice. He was driving by rote, his mind racing, trying to figure out what could have possibly happened in the short time since he had dropped his partner off.
Was it Jeannie? Had Mike received bad news about his daughter? A small cold hand seemed to grab his heart as the possibility flashed through his mind. As well as he had gotten to know Mike Stone in the five plus years they had been together, he knew without a doubt that the older man would fall apart if anything were to happen to his beloved Jeannie.
Almost without realizing he had made it to Potrero Hill so soon, he swung the LTD onto De Haro, his eyes immediately starting to rake the steep street for a parking spot. He was lucky; there were several available and he swung into one almost immediately across from his partner's house. He sprinted across the street and up the concrete steps, taking them two at a time, as he had watched Mike do many times before.
For a split second he considered knocking, then just reached for the knob and turned it; the door was unlocked. He stepped into the house; it was very dark. The curtains were drawn, the only illumination a pale amber glow from a small lamp on an end table near the TV. Mike, his coat and hat off, his vest undone and his shirt untucked, was sitting on the couch, leaning forward.
Steve shut the door behind him then crossed deeper into the room towards the older man. "Mike, what the hell…?"
His partner raised his head slowly and Steve stopped in his tracks, catching his breath. The left side of Mike's mouth was swollen and a thin trickle of blood was visible running down his chin.
Steve shoved the coffee table out of the way as he knelt in front of his partner. His right hand shot out then he hesitated before lightly touching the side of the older man's face. "What happened?"
Mike tried a smile then winced. "They were waiting for me…" he whispered almost breathlessly.
"Who?"
Mike tried to shake his head then winced again. "I don't know… but I think it was the guys who sent me the money… Fred Charney's boys…"
His brow furrowed, Steve nodded.
"They waited till you drove off, I guess. Then they were on me. I didn't hear them coming."
Steve put his fingers gently under his partner's chin and raised his head slightly, trying to get a better look at the damage. The corner of Mike's mouth was split open, blood continuing to ooze out. "I think you might need a stitch," he said almost under his breath.
"No," Mike groaned, pulling his head back and shaking it slightly. "No, I'll be okay." He closed his eyes.
Steve frowned in frustration as he stood and snapped on the other two lamps in the room before crossing back to the couch. "Did they just hit you the once?"
Mike opened his eyes and looked at him. He almost snorted. "I wish." He leaned back slightly and, using both hands and gritting his teeth, raised his shirt. Even in the dim light, Steve could see the bruises that were starting to appear on the older man's torso.
"Good god, how many times did they hit you?"
Mike shook his head as he lowered his shirt. "I lost count… but they could have done a lot worse. I think it was just a warning…"
"Or a threat. Mike, you gotta tell Rudy about this –"
"No," Mike said forcefully, then caught his breath with a grimace. He exhaled loudly as he gingerly sat back. "Steve, when I gave that envelope of cash over to Rudy and John, and arrested Charney, I wanted that to be the end of it. I even told them it was the end of it. And it will be." Steve opened his mouth to protest but Mike raised his right hand and the younger man hesitated. "If they wanted to kill me tonight, they could've… easily. They didn't even take my gun… they left me on the sidewalk and just got back into their car and drove away." He chuckled dryly and carefully. "Hell, it happened so fast and so quietly I don't think any of my neighbors even noticed… at least I think they didn't. And I think it took me at least ten minutes to get up the stairs…" He winced and wrapped his arms around his stomach.
Steve sat carefully beside him on the couch. "I think you should go to the General and get checked out."
His eyes once more closed, Mike slowly shook his head as he leaned against the back of the sofa. "I don't need to go. My ribs aren't broken, just bruised. And I can live with a split lip. I just want to lie low for a couple of days." He took a deep breath and held it for several long seconds before releasing it in a controlled rush.
Steve stared, his face still creased with worry. Suddenly Mike raised his left hand and blindly reached in his direction, almost unerringly finding the younger man's leg and patting it affectionately. "I'm okay," he said quietly, smiling, his eyes staying closed. "I'm glad you're here…"
Unable to resist his own smile, Steve put his hand over Mike's and squeezed. "You're welcome. And I'm not going anywhere..." He watched as Mike's smile became a little bigger and felt the strong fingers squeeze his leg again. "Say, uh, I think we should clean you up a little, don't you think? You got some iodine?"
Mike's eyebrows rose but he kept his eyes closed. "Good question. If we do, it's up in the medicine cabinet."
"I'll go check." Steve slipped out from under the older man's grip and disappeared up the stairs to the second floor.
Mike shifted slightly on the couch, catching his breath and grimacing as his bruised ribs and stomach muscles made themselves known once more. He could hear his young partner opening doors and moving from room to room, then suddenly Steve was back in the living room and he could hear the soft thud of items, some of them glass, being placed on the coffee table. Within seconds, an acrid smell reached his nostrils. "I see you found the iodine," he chuckled carefully then opened his eyes and gingerly sat forward.
Steve had a wet facecloth in his hand and he gently wiped the blood from Mike's chin. He dropped the facecloth and picked up a tissue, put it over the small bottle of iodine and turned it upside down. "This is gonna sting," he warned with a apologetic smile as he brought the tissue closer to his partner's split lip.
"Ow," Mike whined, inhaling through gritted teeth as the iodine found its mark, but he managed to keep his head still.
"Sorry," Steve chuckled as he dropped the tissue onto the table. "Listen, uh, I think we should tape your ribs, what do you think? For tonight anyway. It might help you get comfortable so you can sleep."
Mike raised his eyebrows. "I guess it couldn't hurt anymore than it does." He started to reach for the tail of this shirt again.
"No no no," Steve said quickly, "I'll do it." He knelt on the floor in front of the older man to undo the buttons on the blue shirt then helped to slip off both the shirt and vest. "Can you raise your arms over your head so I can get your tee off?"
Mike snorted with a quick tilt of his head. "Well, we'll see, won't we?" Holding his breath, he slowly and carefully raised his arms, stopping abruptly with a gasp when he got them shoulder high.
"That's good enough," Steve said quickly as he pulled the tee up over his partner's head. The bruises were becoming more visible. Steve tossed the shirt aside and picked up the first of two wide tensor bandages he had found in a bathroom drawer. "How does that feel?" he asked when he had finished.
Mike put both hands against the bandages and took a tentative deep breath. He smiled, eyebrows raised. "That actually feels pretty good. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Steve replied with a smile of his own as he got to his feet. "So, ah, you want to try to make it up to your bedroom or do you want to sleep down here tonight?"
"I can make it upstairs," Mike confirmed with a nod as he pushed himself to the edge of the couch, preparing to stand. As he wrapped his right arm around his body, Steve took his left arm and helped him slowly to his feet. "I'm okay," he assured when he got up, "I can do this." He looked at the younger man and smiled. "Listen, ah, you better get yourself home. Thanks for coming over –"
Steve's eyebrows had shot up. "Are you kidding? I told you I'm not going anywhere." His tone was strong and determined, his posture borderline confrontational. After a tense second, he relaxed and almost smiled, "I mean, you know, what if they come back –?"
"They're not going to come back," Mike interrupted quickly then stopped, realizing what the younger man was actually saying. He stared into the unyielding green eyes for a couple of long seconds, then dropped his head and chuckled. "Well, they're not going to come back tonight anyway…" He smiled. "And I'd… I'd appreciate the company…"
Steve grinned. "Jeannie's bed available?"
"Of course," Mike chuckled as he crossed slowly to the stairs and started up, the younger man close behind.
"Listen, ah, I'll call Rudy in the morning and tell him we're both gonna take a couple of days off. After the last few weeks, we kinda deserve it, don't you think?"
Mike, moving slowly, one hand on the banister, chuckled quietly. "I think that's a great idea." He crossed gingerly to his bedroom door. When Steve began to follow he turned back. "I'm okay. I can get myself into bed. Listen, ah, thanks…"
Steve smiled affectionately. "You're welcome." He took a couple of steps towards Jeannie's room then turned back. "Just so you know, if you're not feeling any better in the morning, we are going to be making a trip to the General, if I have to drag you out the door."
Mike raised both hands in a mock surrender. "I promise, if I'm not feeling any better in the morning, then we'll go. But I'm gonna be all right."
The younger man studied him for a couple of seconds, then nodded. "Try to get some sleep," he nodded as he turned towards the second bedroom.
"You too," Mike said softly as he stepped into his room then stopped and turned back. "Oh, ah, I forgot to mention, ah… nice duds…" He nodded with his chin towards Steve's t-shirt and sweats.
After a brief confused hesitation and with a glance down at himself, Steve squared his shoulders as he smoothed the t-shirt then tossed his long, unkempt hair back. "I didn't know I was going to be… leaving the house when I got changed after work."
Mike was watching him with a bemused smile, which slowly faded. "I'm, ah, I'm really glad you did," he said softly.
Steve smiled back. "So am I."