a/n - I wanted to get another chapter out before I left on break. After a prolonged 'maim' (some of you have been a very bad influence on me - LOL), I wanted to move forward with the story around the decisions Steve is facing. Hope you enjoy. Will post again after holiday. Thanks for your continued support!

It's been a while since Mike narrated - he's back!

Departure

Act 7, Part 2: A New Beginning

The days after the shooting became a different type of busy. As much as I protested, Rudy would not hear of me coming in; not even to sit behind the desk. But Internal Affairs quickly became involved, which was standard procedure when an officer is shot in the line of duty. I was re-introduced to Glenn Decker, who came to my home to finish his investigation. He's a good man and he handled the entire case with the fairness and professionalism he demonstrated a few years back.

Jeannie, Irene and I found ourselves making trips to Bay General, not that Steve was terribly aware of our presence. The early going of his recovery entailed heavy duty pain medication and lots of sleep. It wasn't until the third day that he was able to hold a sensible conversation. The good news was he had no further complications. He was just too damn weak. With the multiple injuries, it was difficult for him to make any headway in getting better.

As he became more alert, the pace of recovery was frustrating for him. With both of his arms immobilized, someone had to feed him. He hated that. Fortunately for him, he had a line of gorgeous female volunteers to help in the matter. Jeannie and Irene made arrangements to be with him at nearly every meal. Some of the secretaries down at the station, the nurses and even the candy stripers wanted a turn.

Occasionally, Carolyn would be there for a meal, but not nearly as often as the other girls. It was quite obvious that Miss Carolyn was a bit squeamish and didn't like to be around hospitals or invalids. My observation of the two together was that there had been increased tension. I didn't know if that had to do with his pending convalescence or perhaps they weren't getting along. If I didn't know my partner better, I could have sworn that Steve was happier when she wasn't around.

Steve also became frustrated with the idea that he couldn't move his arm to answer the phone. Professor Atwater tried to call him, but was unsuccessful in getting through. After reading about the shooting in the paper, the good Professor rang the station to check on Steve. One of the other detectives got his contact information and I returned the call. I had the distinct feeling that Atwater's call had nothing to do with whether Steve was accepting the job or if he would be fit to work. I do think the professor was genuinely concerned. That was a good sign.

The fact was Steve hadn't yet accepted the job. He and I hadn't even spoken about it since before the shooting. I thought maybe he figured he had missed the opportunity because of his injuries. At some point soon, I knew we would need to discuss his future, whether it still was with the department or with Berkeley.

As for my opinion, I decided the morning when I first saw him in the ICU ward at Bay General, that I was not going to hold him back. He definitely had my blessing for the Berkeley job. While I knew he had misgivings about shooting to kill and became concerned that he could put our lives endanger should he hesitate, his actions at the café and the aftermath demonstrated the he could overcame those issues. I was proud of him and I still believe we could have worked through any problems with Lenny's counsel.

But there was something else. Within the last few weeks, I stepped back and took a good look at Steve - not as my partner, but as a dear friend. I guess what triggered it was his trip to Boston and learning more about his upbringing at the dinner party. Here was this young guy who experienced tragedy even before he was born, losing his father in the war. Years later, his mom dies as well. Although he had relatives to raise him, his childhood was, at best, bittersweet. Then, he grew up and landed a job where he sees the constant carnage of murder in Homicide. And then finally - this shooting, which nearly killed him.

That made me think of his grandfather and his parents. I'm thinking that if they were here, they'd want something better and less dangerous for him - something that might give him a shot of outliving his parents who both died in their thirties and maybe even making it to his grandfather's ripe old age. They aren't here, but I am. I feel like they would want me to encourage him elsewhere.

Mike walked the familiar path to the private room on the fifth floor. It had been five days since the shooting and the older detective decided it was high time his partner got back into a daily routine. The man carried a small duffle bag with pajamas and personal effects, as well as a small brown bag which held the young man's personal mail. Steve could be in the hospital as long as three weeks, so Jeannie and Irene decided they would look after his apartment.

Mike knocked quietly.

"Come in." While Steve looked better each day, he was still in traction with his shoulder, much to his chagrin. He greeted his friend with a smile.

"Well, aren't you looking better? How do you feel?" Mike noticed the bevy of get well flowers and plants which lined the window.

"I'll feel better once I can get out of the contraption. The doctor said that might happen either this afternoon or tomorrow."

"Hey, that's great. Who sent you these flowers?" The room smelled wonderful.

"Well, let's see. The plant is from you and Irene, thank you. Jeannie got the orange flowers, which are amazingly similar to the ones I got her a few weeks back. The mums are from Rudy and his secretary. And I think the big rubber plant is from the guys in the sqaudroom. The ones on the end I haven't seen the cards for yet."

"Probably from Carolyn, maybe?" Mike tried to be hopeful.

"Or not. I think she's kind of mad at me right now." Steve grinned slyly. "Leave it to me to get on her shit list for nearly dying."

"Well, now what?" Mike was typically intrigued by Steve's stories of his dating adventures. It wasn't that he was Don Juan or Valentino. It was that he kept hooking up with women who just seemed to have a screw loose somewhere.

"She's come by once or twice when there've been other visitors here. And I think she was just put off by that." Mike could tell Steve was understating the situation.

"Let me guess, the 'other visitors' were women and she was jealous." Mike played detective well.

"Got it in one." Steve thought quietly, actually, the other visitor was Jean.

"Did she miss the fact that you were shot multiple times and nearly found out first hand about the afterlife?" Mike surprised himself with how casually he could talk about the tragedy that had nearly befallen them.

"She tends to miss the big picture quite often. It's always about 'who' I was talking to or 'what' I was doing when I should have been with her."

"I don't know what to tell you, Buddy boy. For as long as I've known you, you have had women troubles."

"Women troubles?" Steve smirked. "Well, you know how us men folk are. We're the devil." Steve's attention turned to the bags. "Hey, you brought me stuff?"

"Stuff. Yes, I brought you stuff. Some pajamas, shorts, a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and socks."

"Thanks, what's in the brown bag?"

"Your mail. The girls were cleaning your apartment…"

"Don't tell Carolyn…" Steve feigned exasperation.

Mike chuckled and continued. "and they had collected your mail. Some of it's junk and some of it looks like it's important." He rummaged through the bag until he found a large brown envelop postmarked from Boston. "This one in particular. It looks like it came from a law firm in Boston. Are you in trouble?"

Steve looked puzzled for a moment. "Nah, not that I know of." He squinted at the envelop which Mike held several feet away. "You know, you could open it."

"Okay, if you don't mind." Mike opened the envelope and pulled out document several pages thick. "Oh, it's regarding your grandfather's estate.

Steve's expression quickly went from amused to pensive when he heard about the estate.

"Steve, I'm sorry. We can do this another time if you like." Mike quickly began to put the envelope back in the bag.

"No, it's okay. I'd almost forgotten about this. Samantha, Grandpa's assistant, said I'd be getting a letter in the mail from the attorney at some point. The lawyer had been out of the country during the funeral."

"As long as you're all right with this."

"Sure, go ahead. What does it say?"

Mike scrolled down to what seemed to be the key paragraph. "According to this, your grandfather has left you his home in Cambridge and a trust fund in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. It's to be used to further your education at Harvard. If you elect not to use it or the home, then the entire estate reverts to the University. There's a personal letter from him attached."

Steve could not hide the shock on his face. He didn't expect any of this. "Grandpa said he was going to take care of me, but I had no idea this is what he meant."

"Steve, my goodness. What a fantastic opportunity." The older man noticed a look of apprehension on his friend's face. His mind flashed forward to the idea of Steve leaving San Francisco, but decided to put that thought aside. He needed to be encouraging for his friend. "Things like this just don't happen every day. Are you okay? You're looking a little pale."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve choked. "Just a little shocked."