A/N: Thank you everybody for following my story, much appreciated. And a big thanks to Tanith 2011 for finding the time for Beta reading.

Saturday evening

Mike sat on the armchair opposite the sofa and watched Steve tossing in an uneasy sleep. When he had returned earlier that afternoon he had found his partner flushed and hot, obviously unwell. Steve had put up little protest when Mike marched him to the car, headed for the hospital once more.

The doctor on duty went through the previous night's file and did not seem surprised that the patient had caught a cold after being in wet clothes for a prolonged period of time. His only concern was that Steve might develop a cough, which would aggravate the pain of the badly bruised ribs. He also cautioned about pneumonia, as the patient would find it very hard to cough up all the mucus because of the pain involved. He prescribed a cough suppressant and antibiotics as a precaution and offered to keep Steve in for a couple of days.

Mike readily gave in to Steve's pleas and brought him home again; he felt that after his recent encounter with Henry Swale, he would rest easier watching over Steve himself.

He desperately wanted to talk to Steve about the recent developments. He was so used to having his partner to bounce off ideas with and hearing Steve's own input. But the last thing he wanted to do now was to disturb the sick young man.

For the third time he went to his bedroom to make yet another phone call to the Bureau. There was still no news on Finch. Lessing and Haseejian were checking out the man's friends and associates for his whereabouts and to find out who could possibly have been involved in beating up Steve.

Mike felt ill at ease; the encounter with Henry Swale had left him strangely unsettled. When the doorbell rang he took his .38 out of the desk drawer before he approached the door.

"It's Lenny! Can I come in?" A familiar voice called out.

The detective felt slightly foolish and hid the gun under a folded newspaper, before he opened the door.

"I hope I'm not intruding, but I wanted to check how Steve is doing," Lenny explained his presence.

The previous year Lenny Murchison, the department's psychiatrist, had helped Steve deal with his loss and remembered only too well how devastating the encounter with Henry Swale had been for the young man. When Olson had informed him about the attack on Steve and Swale's possible involvement, he felt that Steve and Mike too, might need some support.

"Very nice of you to give up your Saturday evening," Mike remarked.

Lenny grinned, "Not at all. My wife is having her girlfriends over. The coven, as I call them. Any excuse to get away from them."

Mike laughed and took his visitor's coat.

"How is Steve?" Murchison asked with concern.

Mike looked over to the sofa where his friend was still sleeping.

"He's running a temperature, he's as sore as hell and he's completely exhausted. Maybe I forgot to mention the headache." Mike listed all the ailments and discomforts that his young partner was subjected to.

"He must be bushed to sleep through the bell ringing and us talking. How is he coping with everything?" Lenny winced.

Mike didn't answer straight away, but went over to the sofa and put his hand on Steve's forehead. Steve opened his eyes and blinked. "I'm fine, Mike. You're wearing the skin of my forehead thin from feeling it all the time," he mumbled sleepily. "Hi Lenny!" he added when he saw Murchison at Mike's side, but then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep again.

Mike beckoned Lenny over to the kitchen where the usual pot of coffee was perking. He took out some cups and plates from the cupboard then brought out some Danishes, too. "To come back to your question, Lenny, he's doing ok I guess. He was even upbeat and kept cracking jokes, that is until he started to get a fever." Mike then filled in his colleague on the unsettling encounter with Henry Swale earlier that day.

"Swale really got under your skin," Lenny remarked. "Even though he is in jail you still consider him a threat to Steve."

Mike tried to play it down, but the psychiatrist interrupted him. "I don't have to be a detective to come to that conclusion. Since we left the living room, you have been peering through the door and never took your eyes off Steve. He is sick alright, but he doesn't need constant watching. Your gun is hidden under the newspaper over there; you normally keep it in a drawer. It took you ages to open the door..."

Mike smiled and held up his hands in defence. "You got me there. I know I'm not being rational, but Swale really rattled me today. He is determined to do Steve some serious harm, if only to get at me. You're the expert here when it comes to the human mind. Tell me, can the man be sane?"

Lenny was quiet for a while and frowned. "I can't say without assessing him, but there is a possibility that he is insane. Do you want me to get in touch with the prison doctor?"

Now it was Mike who didn't answer for a few minutes. He took a big gulp of coffee and sighed.

"If he was declared as mentally unstable he'd have an easier life in an institution than in prison."

"Yes," Lenny answered "but maybe he'd get the treatment that he needs to get better. He might not be a threat to Steve anymore."

"But he might be back out on the streets at some stage," Mike voiced his greatest fear.

"That's a possibility, too," the psychiatrist conceded.

"You know, Lenny, I hate to say this, I have never wished anyone dead before. It's against my deepest conviction to do so, but I think death is all that can stop Swale."

Both men sat in silence for a long time.

"Does Steve know about your visit to St Quentin yet?" Lenny eventually broke the silence.

"No," Mike admitted. "He was too miserable when I returned, but I'll tell him tomorrow morning, as soon as he is alert."

"You do that, Mike. If you need my help in any way, don't hesitate to call me and I'll be over in a flash. My mother in law is coming to visit tomorrow," he added with a wry smile.

Mike thanked Lenny before the psychiatrist decided that his host needed some rest and decided it was his cue to leave. Mike showed him out the door, feeling no less protective of his protégé but a little better after unloading his thoughts to Lenny.