Half an hour of waiting later and with no signs of his friend returning, Steve excused himself and left the interview room behind. Quickly scanning the sparsely manned bullpen, he noticed Mike sitting in his office. One hand scratching his forehead in obvious agitation, eyes focused on a report that was lying on his desk, the Lieutenant seemed to be in a deep state of pondering. When he saw now sign of Charley, Steve decided to check on his friend.
As if he'd noticed him approach, Mike took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the lab report, as he pointed toward the interview room.
"You can let her go."
Steve raised his eyebrows and came closer, surprised to see a ballistics report on the desk.
"What do you mean? Did the paraffin test come back negative?"
"Amongst other things…", Mike sighed and ran a hand through his salt and peppered hair, "Charley's guys found the gun stashed below the mattress. So they ran ballistics on it and it didn't match our killer's gun."
"Then why did she run?!"
Steve's frustrated outburst made the Lieutenant glance up briefly, a tired smile playing on his lips.
"Isn't that what you are here to tell us?"
Momentarily freezing in his spot, Steve noticed the emotional distance Mike had put up between them in the few hours since the attack happened.
A distance he could emphasize with too well.
"Right…", he began and nervously bit the inside of his lip, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a satisfying answer, "Well, it could be that she thought we were drug runners paid to put an end to her humanitarian effort of getting people off drugs. Or her hatred in the police force is strong enough that she decided to give us the run around, hoping to shake us off. You and I both know that people don't necessarily just run from the police because they're guilty. It could be a wide array of other reasons, and we won't know for a while, since we're just barely scratching the surface."
"Never mind all that right now.", Mike cut him off brusquely and got up to help himself to some water from the nearby carafe, before sitting back down in his chair, "The one thing we know for fact is that we have nothing to link either Wiersma or Ferris directly to those killings. So, we're right back to square one. Damnit."
Steve stayed back and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, deciding to give his friend both time and distance to get over the frustration of his latest case.
As he crossed his arms over his chest, he couldn't help but look down at the tie and row of buttons hiding the evidence of a surgery that nearly cost him his life just over a month ago. And the fact that he shouldn't be helping police, much less do any sort of strenuous exercise until Doctor Hicks cleared him in another two months only added to his misery that day.
"I think I owe you an explanation."
It was the only thing he could think of saying.
And suddenly, it seemed that the last bit of noise, the low humming of tired voices and the occasional shuffling of paperwork and ringing of the office phones behind him disappeared completely. As the bullpen fell strangely silent, Steve hesitantly lifted his head.
Mike stared back at him in solemn understanding, his lip quivering slightly as he gestured toward his desk.
"Close the door, will you?"
Complying quietly, Steve shut the door and slid into one of the guest chairs in Mike's office, feeling a strange sense of melancholy sitting at the spot he'd spent so much time in during his previous career.
Across the desk, Mike studied him intently, his steel blue eyes kept intentionally unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, lips pursed to a thin line as both men continued their wordless dance around the 800-pound gorilla in the room.
Steve felt the heat rise on both sides of his neck, his heart beginning to race in expectation of what was about to be said. Nervously rolling up his shirt sleeves, he cleared his throat, ready to begin his plaidoyer of reasons as to why he kept Mike out of the catastrophe that was his open-heart surgery, when the Lieutenant raised a hand to silence him.
"All I have is one question.", Mike said, the tone of his voice tolerating no back talk, as he clenched his jaws for a moment.
Several seconds passed, before he leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped and arms resting on the desk full of case files, his eyes filled with sadness.
"Now you have chosen to keep me out of this for some strange reason I don't quite understand. And maybe I would understand if you'd have told me at the beginning of this case, or when you were supposed to meet us at the ball game last week, but right now…I really don't care to know why. You're an adult, it was your decision to make and you can live with that. I guess I was just hurt…hurt that after all these years you'd choose to do that. I thought you knew by now that you can trust me with anything that is going on. Especially when it's something this…serious."
Steve tried to cut in, only to be silenced again, as Mike continued in his professional voice reserved for news conferences only.
"But in light of what happened this afternoon and what I need to explain to Dewitt in our meeting tomorrow morning, I really only have one question. But it is a very important one. So, I want you to think about it long and hard before you answer. If I hadn't been there when this…when you went down…and if I hadn't given you those pills…what would have happened?"
Taking a moment to settle down his nervousness in an emotionally charged situation, Steve ran a hand across his freshly shaven chin, before shrugging.
"I don't know, Michael. I really don't. And Dr. Hicks doesn't know either. It's possible that eventually, it would have gotten better…and it's just as possible that it could have resulted in cardiac arrest but…well, it's not like I want to try it out and see what happens."
"What are you talking about? How can the best cardiac specialist in the Bay Area not know what's going on with your heart to cause these…attacks?"
And so began his twenty minute monologue of a highly dangerous surgery that had kept him on the table for more than eight hours total, an invasive procedure that caused his heart to stop beating three times, the miraculous work of the surgeon and nurses who pulled him back each time it happened, his fear that knowing about this situation could cause Mike to be distracted and get hurt, and amongst all of it, a strange, scar tissue related malfunction that made his heart go into uncontrolled bouts of VFib each time he put too much strain on it, dating back almost three years and still occasionally happening now.
"Doctor Hicks warned me early on that the surgery would be extremely dangerous. That it was a new procedure he'd developed. But I didn't have a choice, because these attacks would only become worse. And more frequent. And I knew that, too.", Steve whispered, his eyes staring at one of Mike's war pictures on the back wall, "I didn't want you involved because you'd be sitting here fretting about me just like you're sitting here fretting about Dan right now. And we both know that something like that can get you shot. So instead, I prepared everything on the legal end in case, you know…in case I wouldn't wake up and then Barb would show you where everything is in my apartment. But now…luckily…I guess it's just a matter of letting things heal and hopefully these…these attacks will cease to happen. They've become less and less frequent since the surgery but then…well…then today happened."
Mike had sat there quietly, his head bowed as he listened to the information provided. When Steve didn't say anything further, he drew in a deep breath and let out a frustrated chuckle.
"So my current partner is in intensive care because he took a bullet to the head, and my old partner graciously fills in but runs a risk of having a heart attack if he pushes it too much…", when Mike glanced back up, his eyes had grown distant again and he shook his head in disgruntlement, "What were you thinking when you made the decision to run after Ferris? You could have gotten yourself killed this afternoon! Her capture wasn't worth losing your life over! I really wish you'd stop worrying about me and what might or might not distract me…when you should be listening to your doctor for God's sake! Why couldn't you just tell me what's wrong?"
Mike's voice was beginning to break from a mixture of pent-up anger, disappointment and pain, as both men fell silent for a few brief moments, the air surrounding them growing thicker by the second.
"I was scared, Michael."
It was those four words that cut through the tense silence that was the Lieutenant's inner office instantly.
Waiting until Mike glanced up to meet his pleading eyes, Steve nervously kneaded his cold fingers, his mind replaying his struggle to wake up after the surgery, and the haunting conversation with Doctor Hicks after the fact; the solemn reminder that he was quickly using up those nine lives.
"And if you were to hear what a medical miracle you are each time you see your doctor, well…maybe you'd be scared too. It gets to be exhausting, living with that worry, not knowing when the sand runs out. Having to be ready to face death each day. Doctor Hicks told me that it's unlikely I will go into cardiac arrest from anything resulting from this surgery but he doesn't know for sure either, nobody knows. Heck, nobody knows why I am still alive as it is. Do I get to turn eighty? Or die next week? I don't know, and it's frustrating and scary. So, what am I supposed to do? Sit in a corner and feel sorry for myself? Avoid taking the stairs because it might kill me? Or go out and make a difference while I still can? And maybe…maybe for a little while pretend that things are still like they were in the olden days, you know? Working with the Lieutenant. Dealing with the cantankerous attitude. Laughing at each other's antics; temporarily shedding the responsibility of teaching a bunch of kids about crime and go back to working the streets again. And maybe even forgetting that this damn shooting ever happened. Tell me, Michael, if you put yourself in my shoes, just what would you have done?"
His candid words seemed to have finally hit their intended target when Mike nodded slowly, his expression growing warmer, almost apologetic, as he pondered about the situation for many long moments.
"I guess…if you put it that way I would be scared out of my mind. And pretty upset that my friend was too busy condemning my decision to handle this affair in private, rather than trust that I made the best choice I could at the time with the limited resources I was given. And I guess…I guess I'd consider finding myself a better friend."
With a soft chuckle, Steve shook his head.
"I guess you must not know me too well after all, Lieutenant. Because I wouldn't run off to find a new friend when I have just the friend I need right here.", he said quietly, then drew in a deep breath, ignoring the angry protest from his sore ribs, "And I'd be man enough to realize that mistakes were made on both sides. And that it's time to fix things, instead of running from these issues."
"I'd like that very much, Bud-", Mike began, then caught himself mid-sentence, Steve taking notice of the gentle attempt to move on from the past.
As each man reflected upon the decade old friendship in their own unique way, the office grew warmer, the air lighter, the atmosphere changing from misguided resentment to amicable togetherness. In the end it was Mike who licked his lips, trying to swallow the knot that had been building in the back of his throat.
"You know, I was so busy holding on to what we had years ago that I refused to accept the changes that happened, even if they were necessary. And I did you a great disservice by doing so. I am sorry I wasn't the friend I should have been. That I didn't try harder to fix things. That I sent out Dan to check on you when I should have done so myself. I guess I was too set in my ways, not realizing that I was as much of the problem as I accused you of being."
Steve clenched his strong jaws and nodded slightly, the heavy burden of guilt and loneliness leaving his shoulders at once, making him dizzy.
And perhaps, Mike was going through the same problem when he leaned back in his chair, then ran a hand across his tired eyes, before smiling at him with a fleeting headshake.
"Look at us stubborn fools."
Returning the smile, Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"You are getting worse the older you get, I hope you know that, Michael."
"But you're catching up fast, Smiley."
His fleeting smile vanished again when Mike's eyes fell back on the case file, then his partner's scuffed up suit.
"If Dewitt finds out what is really going on, he's going to pull you off this case faster than you can buy a new suit, you know that, right?"
"Then maybe he doesn't need to find out about it until after this case is over. Just tell him I tripped and twisted my ankle.", when Mike raised his hand in protest, Steve continued regardless, "And in the meantime, I will be sure to take all my meds on time and not overexert myself. Possibly even leave all the suspect chases to my old partner, while I sit back in the Galaxy and munch on a handful of sunflower seeds, cheering you on from the sidelines…"
Not overly excited about the idea but knowing he had limited resources to draw from at this point; Mike rubbed his chin for a moment, then keeping the hand in front of his eyes as if it would help him think. Eventually he looked back up and inhaled woefully, before speaking up again.
"Stephen, I can't guarantee that this case isn't going to get hot…I don't want to relive what happened this afternoon. I can't lose you."
"I know that. And I am willing to take that chance, even if you don't agree with me. Because right now, the fact of the matter is that we still have a killer on the loose. And we both know that she will strike again shortly. And if I am right, you are next on the list and I will be damned to let that happen."
