"Sorry we're late. I grabbed some stuff out of my office…and changed clothes again."
Mike glanced up from the book of mugshots he'd been studying intently for the past hour, just in time to see Steve and his students make their way through the vestibule into the darkened and empty bullpen.
After having to drive back to Berkeley to pick up the two boys who weren't able to organize transportation on such a short notice; Mike had Steve drop him off downtown to begin some preliminary research, even if it meant going over every single case he touched over the past three decades.
Determined, and increasingly frustrated at their lack of progress, he'd filled out a second chalkboard leaning up against the side wall of his office and covering part of his window to the outside. With dozens of names, potential connections to himself, and reasons for bitterness, the list read like part of a dramatic theatre act.
With a bag of food and refreshments in his right hand, Steve steered toward Dan's desk to set his cargo down, then slowly approached Mike's office, arms crossed over his expensive custom-tailored gray pinstripe suit.
"Anybody stick out from the crowd yet?"
"Well…", leaning back in his well-worn office chair, Mike took off his thick-framed black reading glasses and smiled wearily, "It seems a lot of people could have a good reason to want to see me dead. I don't know if I should be happy or disturbed."
Steve returned the smile and helped himself to some water from the nearby carafe, carefully scooting past the chalkboard, before clearing his throat.
"Well, in some cultures on this planet, this is kind of an honor…"
"Yeah, but this is San Francisco and not some man-eating rainforest tribe!"
"Sometimes I wonder about that…", the young man countered and sipped on his water, before continuing, "How are you doing, Michael?"
The question had been as unexpected as it was earnest, causing the Lieutenant to glance at the bandage hidden beneath a fresh dress shirt, then at his old partner.
"I am fine. Why are you asking?"
"Just asking. Seeing that you got shot and knocked out only…see…two or three hours ago. Somebody's gotta keep tabs on you."
The gentle nudging was accompanied by a warm smile when Steve finished his glass of water, then raised an index finger in between sips.
"Oh, I almost forgot, on the way back, something came to mind, Mike. And it might be important."
Their conversation was interrupted when the phone rang. Sharing an ominous glance with his best friend, Mike hesitantly lifted the receiver to his ear, noting that it was barely past four in the morning.
"Homicide, Stone?"
"Lieutenant Stone, it's Doctor Meyers."
Instantly feeling his heart leap from the early morning call, the Lieutenant sat up straighter, symbolically leaning into the phone.
"Doctor Meyers. How is he? How's Daniel?"
"He's slowly regaining consciousness. We decreased the sedatives yesterday afternoon and it took him a while to come out of it, but all things considered he's fairing pretty well."
Feeling the immense weight of worry drop from his shoulders, Mike smiled in relief and glanced over at Steve, who didn't need to know the contents of their conversation to understand the good news being conveyed.
"Is he…is he coherent? Has he said anything yet?"
"Well, I know that you guys had a particular interest in whether or not he can recall what happened, but he's still too groggy to be sure on that. I would say that you could maybe try to talk to him, see how he reacts. All our tests so far have come back encouraging, his long-term memory is not affected but I am not sure whether or not he remembers why he's here or how much this injury has affected his short-term memory and certain cognitive areas until he is more alert. He did ask for you multiple times already though, Lieutenant."
Closing his eyes for a moment and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand, Mike nodded in understanding before speaking up again.
"Would it be alright if I stopped by to talk to him in say…half an hour? Whoever tried to kill him is still on the loose and the sooner we find out what he remembers, the sooner we might be able to put a stop to this madness."
The doctor on the other end hesitated for a moment, torn between the welfare of his patient and that of everyone else in their killer's path.
"I will let nurse Harris know that you are going to stop by. There's still a guard posted at his room here in ICU. I suppose the fact that you haven't caught whoever is responsible for all these deaths means that the Sergeant will stay with us a little longer yet?"
"I am afraid so, Doctor Meyer. Hopefully Daniel saw something that'll lead us to the right person. In the meantime, we will continue to look for our killer and bring him or her to justice as soon as we can."
"Well, your word in Gods ear, Lieutenant Stone. Just be sure to stay safe yourself. I will see you in half an hour. Goodbye."
The doctor hung up the phone before Mike could reciprocate the farewell. Holding the receiver in the air for a few more seconds and hoping that Dan would finally help them end this deadly cat and mouse game, he never noticed that Steve had come closer until the young Professor leaned onto his desk, the fancy royal blue tie touching his forearm.
"Sounds like things are improving slowly, eh…?"
"Yeah.", Mike's voice sounded more anxious than he intended when he finally hung up the phone and ran a hand through his salt and peppered hair, "Let's hope he remembers who shot him."
"Well, I'd hate to throw a monkey wrench into your hopes, but there is a fairly good chance he won't remember. Once the body goes into shock, the mind kind of, you know, shuts down temporarily."
The Lieutenant nodded in understanding, a shadow of pain crossing his stern features for a moment.
"I know that. Then again, you remembered, didn't you?"
"Mike…", Steve moaned and moved away from the desk and around the corner, creating more than just physical distance to his friend, "That was different. Everything…everything about that…that situation was different. Let's just…let's not talk about stopping bullets for a little while, okay? We've had enough of that in the last few hours…"
Surprised when he saw a faint shudder run through Steve's lean body, Mike nodded understandingly and reached for his badge, revolver and handcuffs in the right-hand drawer of his desk, trying to offset the tension quickly spreading in the small office.
"Well, I am going to see Dan. Hopefully, when I get back, I will have some good news."
Blocking his way to the bullpen when he positioned himself next to the Scales of Justice, Steve glanced up briefly, acknowledging his words and yet his mind already drifting into a different direction altogether.
"While you're heading that way, think of any cases that you and Dan have handled since…since he took over for me. I can't shake the fact that his attack was vendetta-related as well, going beyond the motive to try to terrorize you. I am beginning to feel like our killer is after both of you."
"Mhm. That would cut our list down significantly, now wouldn't it?"
"You bet.", Steve countered, falling back into research mode as he stepped out of Mike's office toward his two waiting students, "In the meantime, we're going to focus our research on the files from the gun range. After what happened this morning, I am convinced our answers lie somewhere in between those sheets of paper."
