The Homicide office was bustling when Mike made his way in late Sunday morning. With three open cases on the go, the luxury of a weekend off was no longer one of the benefits of a promotion to the detective ranks. And though The City would not be at all happy with the overtime salaries they would have to shell out, everyone knew that solving a homicide investigation was more important than money.
Fresh from his success in wrapping up the gas station murder, Steve was working with Sergeants Healey and Haseejian on a double homicide near the Presidio that looked like a street robbery gone bad but had turned out to be a result of jealousy and greed.
Satisfied that all the cases were being handled to the best of everyone's ability, Mike allowed himself to indulge in one of the perks of being the boss: delegation. His services were not needed on the front lines for the moment, which left him time to concentrate on a, to him, more important matter.
Since his return from Sacramento, a new theory had been bubbling in his brain. And after a few specific and discreet phone calls which, even late on a Saturday evening and after much belly-aching on the other end of the line, he believed he had laid the groundwork for what he hoped would be the final chapter in this increasingly depressing and debilitating chapter in his partner's young life.
Steve had finished a phone call, made a notation on the pad on his desk, got up and crossed into Mike's office with the pad in hand. Like the rest of the detectives on duty that day, he was keeping the boss up to date on the open cases.
He slumped into the guest chair; the entire squad had noticed that the usually happy and quick-witted inspector was more guarded and solemn lately, and though gossip and speculation ran rampant in the tight-knit group of plainclothes cops, no one, outside of Mike, knew what was actually going on.
Finished bringing his boss up to date, Steve got up to leave.
"Wait, wait, wait," Mike said pleasantly, gesturing at the now vacated seat when Steve looked back at him. "I want to know what happened at the restaurant yesterday after I left."
Frowning, Steve sat back down again. "What do you mean? Nothing happened."
"Really?" Mike raised skeptical eyebrows. "You mean the two of you…well, the two of you who could carry on a intelligible conversation, just sat there staring at each other without speaking?"
With a frustrated sigh and almost angry glare, Steve dropped heavily back onto the chair. "We, ah, we talked about… well, about Joshua mostly. She told me all about his birth… you know, seven hours in labour, that kind of thing…"
Mike nodded knowingly, trying to keep a bemused smirk from erupting.
Taking a deep breath, Steve plowed on. "And all the things the kid likes to eat, and the toys he likes to play with, and –"
"You couldn't take your eyes off him, could you?" Mike interrupted.
"What?"
"I was watching you. You couldn't take your eyes off him. You think he is your son, don't you?"
Steve leaned back and stared expressionlessly at the older man. "He looks just like me."
"Yes, he does," Mike nodded solemnly, "but that still doesn't make him your son, does it?"
They held each other's stare for several long seconds then the younger man blinked and looked down, exhaling loudly.
"Go back to work," Mike said gently.
Without looking up, Steve got to his feet and crossed slowly back to his desk. Mike watched him go. He was dying to tell him what he had discovered in the past twenty-four hours, but he also knew it was in neither of their best interests to do so at the moment.
# # # # #
Steve was on the phone an hour later when Mike emerged from his office to sit on the edge of his desk, waiting patiently for the younger man to hang up. Steve looked up expectantly as he dropped the receiver onto the cradle.
"Hey, did I overhear you talking to Ellie just now?"
"What are you, a bat?" Steve asked in awe; he had been talking to his girlfriend in lowered tones and the background cacophony of the room was definitely intrusive.
"Bats can't hear, they use radar, remember?" Mike said quickly with a self-satisfied smirk. "So, she has today off, hunh?" His enthusiasm was downright frightening.
Steve blinked pointedly, trying not to smile. "Bats can hear, extremely well actually. They can't see very well."
Mike's face fell then he grinned. "Oh, well, I knew it was one of the two. So anyway, she has today off?" he persisted, recovering quickly.
Eyeing his partner skeptically, Steve nodded. "Yes, she does. And why is that of interest to you, dare I ask?"
"Well, I was thinking," he started slowly with a knowing smile, "why don't I take both of you out to a really nice restaurant… your choice… and I'll even pick up the tab…" He paused, watching as Steve's jaw dropped slowly open. "Then sometime early in the evening I will withdraw from the scene and leave you and your lovely lady free to spend the rest of the night on the town… without my company." His grin was full-blown now. "What d'ya say, buddy boy? Sound like a plan?"
Steve, who had been watching him with a worried and furrowed brow, started to laugh and his face lit up; to Mike, it seemed for the first time in days. "Yeah," Steve nodded, "yeah, I'd like that, a lot. And I think Ellie would to."
"Good," said Mike enthusiastically as he got to his feet. "You give her a call and ask her, and if she's up for it, you two figure out where you want to go." He glanced at his watch. "What say we both blow this popsicle stand around four, give us some time to go home and make ourselves presentable? That sound good to you?"
Mike's grin was infectious and Steve could only shake his head in wonder. "That sounds perfect," he said, slapping the older man on the shoulder affectionately as Mike turned to jog happily back to his office.
# # # # #
Dinner at L'Etoile turned out to be everything they hoped it would be. The food, the service, the ambiance, and the company had all combined to make the night out a wonderfully relaxing respite for them all.
It was shortly after eight when Mike bade them his goodbyes and headed out to his car. Steve and Ellie had decided to go dancing; they were determined to make the most of her one night off.
As he strode across the street to car, he glanced up and down the block, looking for the Pinto. He was pretty sure now what Donna Atkinson was up to; now he just had to prove it. Relieved not to see the little sedan, he got into his car and drove away, towards downtown. His own day was not over yet either.
# # # # #
Mike snapped on the fluorescents and crossed the empty bullpen to his office, turning on the lights in there as well. As suspected, a large manila envelope was sitting in the centre of his desk, a folded piece of notepaper taped to the top. Crossing around the desk, he pulled the note free, sliding his glasses from his inside pocket with the other hand and slipping them on.
'This is the list you wanted. I had to pull a lot of strings to get it on such short notice AND on a weekend. You owe me big-time! I'll be expecting two bottles of Glenlivet to show up shortly.
I hope this is what you're looking for. Good luck.
B'
Chuckling, Mike tossed the note on the desk and sat. He opened the top drawer, took out a letter opener, picked up the manila envelope and sliced open the top flap. He put the letter opener away before removing several sheets of paper from the envelope. He flipped through them quickly, a smile starting to build.
Nodding to himself, he opened the drawer once again, took out a large legal pad and a pen, closed the drawer and set to work.
It was going to be a long but, he hoped, very productive night.
# # # # #
"Well, this is certainly the perfect way to end a perfect evening," Ellie sighed as she leaned back in the wooden chair and once again admired the view. "You know, in all the years I've lived in this city, this is my first time up here."
Steve chuckled as his picked up his martini glass and took a sip. "True confession time? It's my first time too."
"Really?" she asked with a laugh, her eyes wide. "Who'd thought, hunh? The natives are always the last."
"Well, I'm not exactly a native, remember?" Steve corrected her, leaning forward to put his glass back on the table.
"Look, anyone who's been here as long as you have, and is on the police force for god's sake, is a native in my books." She stared at him affectionately, reaching across the table to hold his hand. "I am so glad we could do this tonight. Lord knows I needed it."
Steve smiled warmly. "Well, it was all Mike's idea so you gotta thank him."
"Oh, I will, believe me," she laughed with the sexy throatiness he found so irresistible, "but you're gonna have to tell me how. I mean, I can't really… you know… thank him in quite the same way I can thank you… if you catch my drift…" she said slowly, looking at him coyly from under a downturned brow.
He laughed. "Yeah… right…" He cleared his throat self-consciously, knowing their night was far from over. "Well, ah, Mike is really into sports so –"
"I've got it!" she roared, then glanced around guiltily, lowering her voice and her head. "I've got it," she whispered and he chuckled, leaning forward so they were almost nose-to-nose. "How 'bout I get him some tickets to a Giants homestand? Behind the plate? Would he like that?"
"He'd love it. But those tickets are expensive, you know. And you're not making that big lawyer salary yet, remember? You're a prosecutor on The City's payroll."
She leaned back and waved at him dismissively. "Don't worry about it," she said conspiratorially, "a guy I used to go out with… years ago," she continued quickly on his sudden frown, "he's the marketing guy for the Giants. I'll talk to him," she explained suggestively, bobbing her eyebrows and smiling enigmatically.
Steve stared at her. "That's all you'd better do… talk," he growled softly and she threw her head back and laughed.
Grinning and laughing, he leaned over the table, grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, putting his other hand on the back of her head as he planted a long and sensuous kiss on her welcoming lips.
Neither one noticed the bemused smiles from the other well-heeled patrons at their tables in The Top of The Mark that night.
