Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I only borrow them- for fun, not for profit!
A big thank you to Tanith for her great work beta reading my stories. So appreciated...
A/N: What struck me most in the episode Asylum was the scene on the roof, when Steve won't go near Mike and doesn't seem to trust him. I always wondered how Mike felt about it. Here is my effort to explain...
And if you haven't already done so already, check out Dublin Writer's WHI "A Helping Hand" about the same story!
So Young
So young, so incredibly young.
No wonder he dresses in suits and ties to look like an adult.
Mike's eyes swept over his protégé, taking in his uncharacteristically dishevelled appearance. Steve came straight from the shower, dressed in baggy sweats, hair still wet and unkempt, his feet were bare.
Mike dropped the shopping bags he had been carrying on the kitchen table and waved away Steve's offer to help. "You are to take it nice and easy while the drugs are still in your system, the doctor said. You sit down and rest while I make us something to eat. What do you feel like?"
"Chucking up... No disrespect to your cooking Mike, but I still do feel a little nauseous." Steve admitted.
Mike took the young man's arm and steered him towards the sofa.
"Sit down and relax. No, maybe you better lie down. You'll soon feel better." The older man started fussing over his partner.
Steve flinched, but gave in without putting up too much of a struggle. Although at Dr. Rabb's clinic he had insisted he felt okay, the day's excitement and the after effects of the administered drugs had caught up with him. Mike disappeared in Steve's bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket.
"Here, we'll make you comfortable and I'll get you something to drink. Maybe some tea?" Mike suggested.
In spite of feeling queasy and exhausted Steve had to grin, knowing that Mike couldn't understand his fondness for hot tea. So the offer of tea instead of coffee... Poor Mike, he must be terribly worried about me!
Steve only recalled fragments of what had happened in the clinic earlier this afternoon but from what he remembered he realised that it must have been a harrowing experience for Mike.
Must ask him later if I remember correctly, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.
He barely noticed Mike putting the blanket over him and gently touching his cheek with the back of his hand.
So young, so incredibly young.
Mike's thoughts wandered back to his arrival at Doctor Rabb's clinic at lunchtime. The sight of a drugged and panicking Steve who didn't recognise his friend and mentor and fled to the roof of the building he would never forget even if he lived to be a hundred.
During his long career as a police officer Mike had dealt with lots of suicidal people and he had dealt with his share of people on drugs, too. But never in his life would he have thought he would sit on a rooftop, trying to coax his buddy boy, his Steve, away from the edge, back to safety.
Mike's eyes watered and he swallowed hard. Although he knew that Steve had been under the influence of drugs, he found it hard to comprehend that his partner wouldn't listen to him, that the familiarity of his voice didn't penetrate the drug induced haze and that Steve would actually back away from him.
Of course he'd be drawn to the good looking girl! Mike tried to make light of the memory, but deep down it really hurt. A virtual stranger had managed to bring Steve back to safety when he had failed.
Steve stirred in an uneasy sleep, mumbling and muttering. Mike abandoned his gloomy thoughts and put a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder.
"It's alright, you're safe, buddy boy. I'm here," he soothed.
Steve calmed down a bit and half opened his eyes.
"Mike? Is it really you?" he asked drowsily.
"Of course it's me! Who else would come to your flat, fill up your fridge and tuck you in!" Mike joked.
"Nobody ever tucked me in!" Steve mumbled sleepily and leaned his face against Mike's hand.
The breathing became regular once more, the pale and drawn features relaxed. Mike waited for a while to make sure that Steve was fast asleep before he moved his hand away. He carefully pulled the blanket over the young man's shoulders and lightly put his hand on the slightly warm and damp forehead.
Satisfied that Steve was sleeping soundly, Mike busied himself in the kitchen. He filled up the bare shelves of the refrigerator and started some food preparations. Then he sat down in the armchair where he could keep an eye on his sleeping charge and leafed through one of Steve's magazines. He found it hard to concentrate, there were too many worries, too many questions unanswered.
Steve yawned and stretched, waking up from a deep sleep, not quite aware of his whereabouts. His eyes wandered over his familiar living room. When he saw Mike watching him from the armchair a huge heartfelt grin spread over his face.
"Hi Mike! Didn't think you'd hang around that long!"
"I won't let you out of my sight until all the drugs are out of your system and I can be sure you won't do anything more stupid than usual," Mike teased.
"I think I partly remember something but I'm not quite sure if it was a drug induced dream or if it was real." Steve sounded a bit worried.
"Later, Steve. You really need to eat something and you are to drink a lot of water to flush the drugs out of your body. Are you well enough to sit at the table or do you want a tray?"
Steve brushed the question away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" He sat up but allowed the older man to help him to the table. "Still a bit loopy, I'm afraid. How long did the doctor say the drugs would be in my system?" He asked.
"You should be ok by tomorrow morning. The injection he gave you counteracted the drugs Watson slipped you. The side effects of the injection are making you feel funny now, but they will wear off soon. I suppose it's better having you sleepy and a bit loopy rather than climbing onto rooftops," Mike explained.
"Oh," Steve swallowed. "You mean I really did that? It wasn't a dream?"
"Well, to me it was a nightmare," Mike declared. Then he dished out bowls of chicken soup, put a plate of buttered toast in front of Steve and poured him a tall glass of cold water.
Steve sniffed appreciatively. "I didn't know that chicken soup was part of your repertoire."
"It isn't, but I have a dab hand with a tin opener. Now, cheer up, buddy boy; I prepared a tuna casserole for tomorrow," Mike promised with a grin.
Steve spluttered and almost choked on a spoonful of soup.
"Tell me you're joking. Please tell me you're not serious!" Steve pleaded.
Mike chuckled. "No, I'm not going to waste my culinary efforts on you. Besides, I'm sure the cooking smells would have woken you up and you really needed that sleep."
Steve swallowed a few spoonfuls in silence and started nibbling on a slice of toast.
"Mike, will you tell me what happened on the roof? I can only remember fragments and it's driving me nuts!"
"What do you remember?" Mike asked cautiously.
"Well, I vaguely remember seeing Watson and trying to get away from him. In spite of the drugs I still figured out that it was him who killed Paul. Then I remember being on the roof and someone was up there with me. Was it you or was it the other person?" Steve sounded slightly vague.
"What other person?" Mike probed gently.
"You know, the one we were talking about before I went into the clinic..." Steve looked very confused and he rubbed the back of his neck. For Mike that was a sure sign that his friend was distressed.
"I don't quite read you. Tell me more," Mike encouraged Steve.
"I can't remember, but there was someone there. That guy wanted me to come over to him, but it wasn't you. It can't have been you!" Steve stared at him wide eyed and swallowed hard.
"Buddy boy, why do you think it was someone else?" Mike's voice was gentle.
"Oh, I don't know but it must have been. I wouldn't be scared of you, would I? If you called me I'd listen to you, wouldn't I?" Steve was beginning to get more distressed.
Mike took a deep breath. He began to understand what had happened on the rooftop. Dear God, let me find the right words.
"Of course you would but Steve Henderson, on the other hand, would have been scared of his uncle."
"What do you mean, Mike?"
"Steve, I'm not a psychologist and maybe we should get Lenny in on this, but I think the drugs made you believe in the cover story we cooked up before you went into the clinic. You know, the paranoia, being afraid of the evil uncle," Mike tried to explain. He watched the young man closely, afraid that he had upset his friend even more.
"I - I don't really know, maybe. At least it would explain something." Steve was flustered.
They sat in silence for a while, the soup cooling in the bowls, the toast going cold and soggy.
"Now, there is something else I half remember- Susan. Did I try and bring her out to dance on the roof with me?" Steve was almost too embarrassed to ask.
"That may have been your intention, but the young lady had enough sense to get you close enough to the window so that Dr. Rabb could get a hold of you," Mike explained.
Steve looked down. "Oh my, this is getting worse. Anything else I've said or done?" was Steve's pained question
Mike gave him a fond smile. "Buddy boy, it wasn't you, it was a different person."
As if a heavy weight had lifted from his chest, Mike at last felt at ease. Yes, it had been a different person, not his Steve who had backed away from him. But now he had to get his partner to believe him, too.
"Steve?" Mike asked tentatively. "Buddy boy, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Steve lifted his head, looking a little sheepish. "My brain is still a mush. Do you mean that the persona we created for the cover story took over? "
To Mike he looked even more like a frightened little boy. He put his hand on Steve's forearm. "Yes, I suppose. You had to act the part for days and that probably contributed as well. Of course you would turn to Susan, the person you trusted most in the clinic."
"Yeah, that makes sense in a way," the young man agreed.
Steve didn't sound completely convinced but at least it was a start. Mike gave his arm a fond pat. "You know what drugs do to your mind. It wasn't you, so stop fretting. Leave it behind you," the older man advised.
Steve exhaled slowly. He understood Mike's genuine concern and appreciated that someone cared so deeply for him.
"Well..." the ghost of a cheeky smile spread over his face. "You must really and truly believe it, or…" Steve's face lit up with a real grin now. "Or you would have had my hide for disobeying your order and running to the girl instead!"
Mike got up and grabbed Steve by the back of his neck. "Indeed, my little sunshine. And don't ever think you'd get away with such behaviour without being drugged. Now, you drink your water while I reheat the soup." He ruffled the young man's hair affectionately.
Steve's grin widened. "Sure, Mike, I promise! As long as you give me enough time for a detour to collect the girl's phone number, I'll come running to you the moment you call, Sir!"