"You're not done for the day yet, Lieutenant?"
The faint knock on his door pulled Mike out of his daydreams and he glanced up from their case file to find himself face to face with a weary-eyed Kammers. With her small leather purse in hand, the Staff Sergeant looked tired, her shoulders sunk, her guarded expression slowly melting into a friendly and welcoming face.
Checking the clock above the north wall for a moment, Mike shrugged, then leaned back in his office chair.
"Not quite yet. I find that a couple hours without the…hustle that goes on in here during the day help me concentrate on my case. I don't get distracted as often."
She nodded quietly, then leaned against the doorframe.
"You remind me of myself…right after the divorce. It seemed that the police work was the only thing that kept me going, gave me focus. I can't remember how many overtime shifts I pulled that year but in the end it felt like…like a saving grace of sorts."
When Mike only cocked his head, she chuckled insecurely and ran a hand through her immaculately pulled back blonde hair.
"I am sorry, I know this must sound ridiculous to you but I guess…it worked for me. In the end, I am glad that my son turned out alright despite my…my less than amicable separation with his father. I credit my police work for that."
"Not ridiculous at all, Staff Sergeant. And please, do call me Mike. All that rank calling is making the air in my office stuffy."
His gentle stab at a friendly conversation was rewarded with a hearty chuckle when Kammers nodded vigorously, then sighed in obvious relief.
"I am so glad you brought that up, I was beginning to feel the same way…although it will take me a bit of time to call you Mike. While we're at it, please do call me Simone."
"Deal.", the Lieutenant said and reached for his cup for a final sip of cold and stale coffee, "Now that we've got those pleasantries out of the way, you should head home. It's going to be a long day tomorrow and I need my team on top of their game. This case has been open for far too long."
# # #
It wasn't the awkwardness that Beverly had a good ten years on him.
It wasn't even her colorful past that made Steve feel uncomfortable, wondering how many men had touched that beautiful body over the years. And perhaps it was impossible to find out exactly what it was that was driving them apart this late at night other than the fact that it felt wrong.
Everything about it felt wrong, beginning with their steamy rekindling at Beverly's apartment to the after-dinner drinks they shared by her elaborate fireplace.
No matter how long he sat there brooding about it, nothing changed.
And Steve knew she felt the exact same way despite her repeated attacks on his halfway unbuttoned dress shirt, hoping for round two of their rekindling. After the fourth attempt, he'd given up the battle to fight her off and just sat there staring straight ahead, outright ignoring her hands sliding across his bare chest and neck in hopes it would stop.
"It's getting to you, isn't it?", she pried with that distinctive smoky voice and took another sip of champagne, her gentle fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, "All the senseless violence. All that death. I can see it in your eyes. Your posture. I can even hear it when you talk."
Refusing to glance over and prove her point, Steve clenched his glass a little tighter, letting the sparkling liquid inside swoosh around a few times, then cleared his throat.
"Sometimes it does, yeah."
"You know that your work is important. That it makes a difference, right?", she said matter-of-factly and reached for his chin, forcing him to look over at her, "Of course you know that. You see it every day. And you rely on Mike to keep you going throughout all this, to remind you of this, even when things…when things get to be too much."
Nodding faintly, Steve swallowed the answer that had been on the tip of his tongue and instead fell quiet, meeting the warm hazel eyes he fell in love with three years ago.
With a disappointed sigh, she let go off his chin and leaned back against the couch, nervously twirling the champagne glass in her left hand.
"All that youthful optimism, that edgy attitude…all the genuine curiosity I got to witness in that motel room that night…it got paved under for some greater purpose. This job, this…noble calling didn't just force you to grow up in a few short years, it also forced you to sacrifice so much of what makes you…you."
"It's called professionalism.", Steve shot back defensively and took another tart sip of champagne before repeating the words Mike had ingrained in the back of his mind for years, "We hold an important position within the police force. And we help people find peace and closure. And honestly, I can't process a crime scene while carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders."
Reading through his false posturing with a smiling headshake, Beverly leaned over to kiss his cheek, then moved closer to his ear.
"In that case let me ask you this, Steve… how many more times will you have to repeat that well- indoctrinated line to actually start believing it?"