Despite everything he was feeling, Mike couldn't stop smiling as he took a step back to allow his bruised and battered partner and the two sergeants to enter the house. As he closed the door behind them, Haseejian and Healey disappeared into the kitchen, with the Armenian calling over his shoulder, "You two relax, we'll find everything we need."
Steve crossed to the couch. "Your dinner," he announced with a nod towards the kitchen, "and mine", holding up the large paper bag in his left hand. He set the bag down on the coffee table. He'd already tossed an overnight bag onto the first step of the staircase to the second floor, an action not lost on the older man.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I gave Marie a call and asked her to let me know if you made it back to their place. After about an hour, I called her again, and when she said you hadn't shown up, I kinda figured you came here." Wincing, a hand on top of his head, he sat on the couch, while Mike returned to the armchair. "How are you doing?"
Mike shrugged, then grimaced and put his left hand on his right shoulder. "Damn it," he said with a quiet chuckle, "I forgot I can't do that." He stared at the younger man.
"I thought you weren't getting out till tomorrow?"
Steve grinned as best he could. "You gotta know by now how persuasive I can be. All I had to do was promise the doctor that I would take it easy." His grin wavered slightly. "I just didn't want you to be alone tonight," he said quietly, then was relieved when Haseejian and Healey came back into the room with plates, cutlery, napkins and the pizza.
Mike held his gaze until the items had been placed on the coffee table and Haseejian's booming voice invaded the lengthening silence. "So what does everyone want to drink? We have Tab, ginger ale, root beer and a couple of milkshakes, but I think those are reserved for 'Metal Mouth' over there."
Mike and Healey chuckled as Steve shot Haseejian a dirty look. "Ha ha," he retorted as sarcastically as he could through his clenched teeth. He fished a bottle of aspirin out of his jacket pocket and took one of the milkshakes out of the paper bag. Catching Mike's concerned stare, he shook his head. "It's just a headache; they told me I'd have them for awhile but they're getting better. This one's not too bad." He was pleased to see the older man relax and nod in understanding.
"Your beverage of choice, sir?" Haseejian asked with feigned formality.
"Um, ginger ale, thanks," Mike ordered with a bemused smile. As much as he had wanted to be alone, he was more than grateful for this impromptu dinner party.
Haseejian and Healey left about an hour later. Though they didn't mention it, they headed back to Bryant Street to try to get in a couple hours work before calling it a day. They cleaned up as best they could before leaving, not wanting to burden their injured colleagues.
As the door closed behind them, Mike was sitting in the armchair and Steve was stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed. They were both thankful that the dinner conversation had managed to stay away from any mention of their current situation; instead they had talked mostly sports and politics.
Into the lengthening silence, Steve sighed, "It feels good to be out of the hospital."
Mike, his head back against the chair, smiled. "I'll second that."
After another silence, Steve said softly, "I'm sorry, with everything's that been going on, I forgot to thank you."
Mike's head came up from the chair, but he hesitated before asking softly, "Thank me for what?" He heard the younger man take a deep breath.
"For saving my life, for –"
"Don't," Mike cut him off. "Please… just … don't, please…" He was close enough to the couch that he reached out and put his left hand on Steve's right forearm and squeezed.
Steve laid a hand over Mike's and patted it lightly, feeling the tense muscles relax. Eventually he said softly, "Everything's going to be okay." Mike's grip tightened momentarily.
They sat that way in silence for a long time.
# # # # #
Steve glanced at the bedside clock. 8:48. He stretched carefully, grateful that he had managed to get a decent night's sleep. He got up slowly and made his way to the bathroom.
Finished, he headed back to Jeannie's bedroom, puzzled that he had not heard Mike up and about. His partner was always the early riser. He crossed to the master bedroom door and listened, then open the door quietly. The room was still dark and he tiptoed towards the bed.
Seeing Mike's eyes open, he sat on the side of the bed. "You didn't get any sleep, did you?" he whispered after several seconds.
Mike shook his head slightly, looking away. "No," he said quietly.
"Look, they gave me some sleeping pills and I didn't have to use one last night. I want you to take one. Neither of us is going anywhere today so you can sleep all day. Why don't you use the bathroom while I go get it?"
Without waiting for confirmation, he got up and left the room. When he returned a couple of minutes later with the pill and a glass of water, Mike was sitting on the side of the bed. Steve handed over the pill. "They said you only had to use the sling for five days so what's say we keep it on while you sleep and take it off when you wake up?"
Mike nodded after swallowing the water and putting the glass on the bedside table. He laid back down; Steve pulled the sheet up after the older man had gotten himself settled and closed his eyes.
With a sad smile, Steve sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Mike's left forearm gently while he waited for the pill to take effect.
# # # # #
It was shortly after four in the afternoon when Steve heard Mike coming down the stairs. He ambled out of the kitchen as the older man stepped off the final stair into the living room. He was fully dressed, his right arm no longer in the sling.
Steve smiled warmly. "How did you sleep?"
Mike smiled back, nodding. "Good, good. I really needed it. Thanks."
"How's the shoulder?"
Mike abstractedly reached up and put his left hand on his right shoulder. "A little stiff and sore but it's fine. I'll live," he added dryly, but Steve could still see the distracted, faraway look in his eyes.
"Listen, uh," Steve said energetically, "I hope you're hungry. I've been practicing my culinary skills. I have a big steak and a baked potato and green beans ready to go whenever you're ready. And, of course, a lovely avocado smoothie for myself," he finished with a cartoonish sigh and a wide smile.
Mike couldn't resist a chuckle as he followed the younger man into the kitchen.
"Where did you get all this?"
"I have friends too, you know," he snickered, parroting one of Mike's favourite phrases. "I gave Lee a call, asked him to pick some things up for me. Come on, have a seat while I do the cooking."
# # # # #
Haseejian sat at his desk in the dimly lit squad room and ran his hands over his tired face. With an exhausted sigh, he leaned back. A file in his hand, Healey came through the hallway door and up to the far side of the desk, dropping wearily into the second chair. He looked over at his colleague.
"You look how I feel," he said with a mirthless chuckle.
Haseejian managed a fatigued smile. They sat in silence for several long moments, then the Armenian detective sat up and slapped both hands on the desk. "Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're gonna go through everything again, every single thing that we have on this guy, and make sure we haven't overlooked anything." He looked at Healey and smiled grimly. "And then, if we still can't find anything that changes what we already have, we take our findings to Rudy in the morning … agreed?"
Healey looked at his partner through tired, sad eyes. Then he nodded reluctantly.
# # # # #
Steve was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper, when he thought he heard the doorbell ring over the metallic whirring sound of the blender; Mike was in the kitchen, making him a strawberry smoothie. He put the paper down and crossed to the door, opening it on a very defeated-looking Captain Olsen.
"Rudy, come on in," Steve said, stepping back into the room. As the captain entered, Steve called over his shoulder, "Mike, Rudy's here."
Mike came into the living room drying his hands on a towel. He too immediately noticed his old friend's serious demeanor. "What's going on?" he asked quietly, not bothering with meaningless salutations.
"Let's sit down," Olsen said gently and the three moved deeper into the room and sat, Mike in the armchair, Steve near him on the couch. Olsen perched on the other couch arm, took a deep breath, then looked at them both square on.
"For the past forty-eight hours, I've had Norm and Dan conducting their own investigation into this mysterious 'witness' that just popped up. They've done everything they could do in the past two days to find out everything they could possibly dig up on this guy, from his birthplace to his job history to his criminal record if he had one to his favorite ice cream. Anything to find some reason why this guy would be lying. They did a hell of a job."
Olsen stopped and took a deep breath. He shook his head reluctantly. "And there's nothing … they got nothing. So, this afternoon I took their findings to Gerry. IA had already been to see him." He stopped again, looked down and took another deep breath. When he raised his head, he met Mike's eyes evenly. "There's a Grand Jury convening next week. And he's taking this case to them."