Mike stood silently just inside the door, staring at the sleeping young man on the upraised hospital bed. He could feel himself shaking slightly, and he wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion, or relief, or some other emotion that he couldn't put a name to at the moment.

He watched the slow and rhythmic rise and fall of his partner's chest for several long moments, the back of his throat starting to tighten. Then, clearing his throat softly, he took a step deeper into the room. There was a white plastic chair against the wall near the door and he picked it up and brought it close to the right side of the bed, putting it down soundlessly. He took a step closer to the bed and studied the face he had come to know so well over the past few years, now stitched, swollen and bruised.

He reached out to gently lay his hand on Steve's chest then stopped himself, reluctant to wake him from the sleep he so sorely needed. With a faintly disappointed half-smile, he stepped back to the chair and sank into it silently, cradling the still-hardening cast as he stared at the bed.

# # # # #

His eyes were almost completely closed, his chin on his chest, when the sound of rustling caught his attention and he brought his head up more quickly than he should have, the jarring movement sending a bolt of agony through his skull. He gasped involuntarily, squeezing his eyes closed, his right hand shooting up to grab his forehead as he rode out the wave of pain.

When it finally receded, he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. An obviously worried Steve was staring at him. "Are you okay?"

Mike tried to smile reassuringly and nodded slightly to punctuate the effort; he wasn't sure he was successful. "I'm fine."

With a skeptical grunt, Steve's eyes slid briefly to the gauze bandage. "How's the head?"

His smile getting a little wider, the older man chuckled. "It's not broken, if that's what you're asking." He raised his eyebrows as best as he could. "How many times over the years have I told you I -"

"Have a hard head," they finished together, and they both grinned and chuckled softly.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and caught his breath, and his left hand came up to cover his injured ribs. Worried, Mike reached out and laid his hand on his partner's right arm. "Are you all right? Do you want me to get the doctor?"

The pain-laced features of the young man in the bed relaxed, replaced by a small affectionate smile, and he opened his eyes. "I'm okay…" he breathed softly and shallowly, staring into the concerned blue eyes. He glanced at a chair on the other side of the bed. "Can you pass me that?" he asked and Mike looked over the bed at the chair.

"What? The pillow?"

Steve nodded. With a slight shrug Mike got slowly to his feet, shuffled around the bed and picked the pillow up. He held it towards the bed; Steve took it carefully and laid it softly on his chest. Breathing shallowly, he wrapped his arms around the pillow and pressed it gently against his ribs as Mike circled back to the chair.

"Does that help?" he asked as he sat.

Closing his eyes, Steve nodded. "They said to press it lightly against my chest when I have to cough or take deep breaths… or talk. It helps to ease the pain."

Mike suddenly looked worried and he started to get up again. "Oh… geez, sorry, buddy boy. I'll get out of here…"

"No, Mike, stop -" Steve said faster and louder than he wanted to and gasped in pain.

Mike froze halfway to his feet, staring at his young friend now obviously in pain, suddenly angry at himself for causing this unexpected complication. "You've gotta rest. I can come back -"

"Mike," Steve repeated, softer and calmer this time, and the older man stopped. He looked so scared and guilty that, despite the pain, Steve couldn't hide the sympathetic smile that expectedly lit his face. They stared at each other silently for a couple of long seconds, then he said quietly, "I'm okay, and I don't want you to go." He held the pillow a little tighter and watched as, after a beat and after apparently assuring himself that everything was okay, Mike slowly sank back down on the small plastic chair.

"You sure you're okay?"

The pillow still pressed against his chest, Steve nodded. "I was wondering what happened to you. Nobody was telling me anything."

Mike snorted. "Same here. Roy told me about your ribs and the… the needle," he winced, "and that you were doing okay but then I didn't hear anything for hours." He smirked with a disbelieving smile. "Do you know it's around noon already?"

Steve's eyebrows rose. "It is?"

The older man nodded sharply, then winced, his right hand shooting up to his temple. "Damn it, I gotta remember not to do that for awhile."

The younger man was watching worriedly. When Mike made eye contact again, he nodded towards the cast. "I thought you were getting that off next week anyway. Why did they put another one on?"

Mike looked down at his left forearm and shrugged. "Well, they couldn't get ahold of the doctor who put the pin in, and they weren't about to take my word for it, I guess," he chuckled. "They took an x-ray. I'm assuming they didn't like what they saw. But they're making an appointment with the other doctor at the other hospital, the one that put the pin in, and he gets the last word." He shrugged again with a chuckle. "So until then I'm stuck with this."

Steve smiled warmly. "Well, could be worse, I guess."

Mike's smile wavered and his gaze flicked from the stitches in the younger man's swollen eyebrow to the one on his lip before settling on the green eyes again. "So, ah other than the chest, how are you feeling?"

With a wry smile, Steve shrugged ever so slightly. "My face is sore."

"It looks sore."

"Well, like I said, it could be worse."

"Yeah, that's for sure."

They fell into a companionable silence for a few long beats, Mike looking at Steve, who was staring up at the ceiling, his arms still around the pillow against his chest, both of them reflecting on the events of the previous night. The younger man turned his head slightly. "They're not admitting you?"

Mike started to shake his head then stopped himself with a subdued roll of his eyes. "Ah, no, they said I can go home."

Steve frowned. "Alone?" There was a great deal of concern in that one word.

Mike raised his right hand. "Relax, relax. No, I am not going home alone," he carefully enunciated every word to make a point.

"So where are you going?"

"Home." Mike smiled enigmatically and watched playfully as his partner's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is… Jeannie coming home?"

"No," Mike chuckled derisively. "She doesn't know about this," he pointed at his bandaged head, "and she's not going to."

When he didn't say anything else, Steve's frown got a little deeper. He knew Mike was just having a little fun with him, and he appreciated the respite from everything they had just gone through. "I'm really not in the mood for twenty questions right now," he said with a smile in his voice, "and I don't think you are either, so why don't you just tell me."

Mike pretended to sigh theatrically, rolling his eyes again but making sure he didn't hurt himself in the process. "Oh, all right. You're suddenly no fun." He chuckled and winked, rewarded with a narrow-eyed smirk. "Sandra Healey is going to move in with me for a couple of days… again."

Steve stared at him without expression for a long beat then asked quietly, "Does Dan know?"

Mike slumped slightly and pursed his lips. "Ha ha. You think you're really funny, don't you?"

Steve chuckled, squeezing the pillow to his chest tighter to try to ward off the pain. Mike leaned forward, pretending to swat his arm. Then they looked at each other warmly, their smiles lingering. "I'm glad you're going home," the younger man said softly.

"Yeah…. You know, we're both gonna be on the shelf for at least a month. You know that, right?"

Steve nodded slightly. "Yeah, Rudy told me. I guess it's not a bad idea."

"Well, I don't think we have much choice." Mike stared at his injured partner and sighed softly. "Listen, ah, I want to know everything that happened last night… everything. But not right now. I want you to rest and get stronger and get out of here. I'm getting sick of seeing you in a hospital bed." He stopped himself and snapped his mouth closed, shaking his head slightly. "No pun intended," he sighed with a chuckle and Steve grinned. Mike's smile disappeared. "Anyway, I want you healthy enough to get out of here," he gestured vaguely around the room, "before you sit down with anyone for a formal interview… even with me. And I'll make sure Rudy knows how I feel about it." He stared at the younger man. "Agreed?"

Steve nodded gently. "Agreed." He frowned slightly. "But won't they need our input to charge Sykes and his sister for the homeless murders?"

Mike tilted his head and snorted softly. "Oh, we'll have enough to nail them for all those, I'm pretty sure of that, after the lab gets its hands on that bat, and who knows what else they'll find in the Steiner house. But there's no rush on that. They're both under arrest right now for assault on a police officer - that would be you - and neither one of them is getting out on bail, so flight is not a risk, and we can take our time with the rest." He smiled slightly, his eyes suddenly melancholy. "Besides, I want to be the one to formally charge them for the murders."

Steve stared at him expressionlessly for a long beat then nodded. "I want to be there when you do," he said softly.

Mike smiled. "Oh, you will be, don't worry." He stared at the young man, watching the green eyes begin to droop, the blinks becoming slower and longer. "Ah, listen, ah… I better get out of here and let you get some sleep. The sooner you start to feel better, the sooner you can get out of here, right?" He winked as he started to push himself to his feet. Standing, he reached out to lay his free hand on his partner's arm; Steve let go of the pillow and grabbed his partner's hand. He squeezed as hard as he could, staring up with a sleepy smile.

"I'm glad you're okay… and I'm glad you're going home."

Mike smiled, biting his bottom lip, and nodded. When Steve released his hand after a final squeeze, he started to turn towards the door then looked back. "Ah, you want me to call Jennifer… tell her about what's going on?" he asked hesitantly but with a knowing smile.

Steve grinned up at him. "Ah, I've been thinking bout that." He chuckled softly and carefully. "I, ah, I think I should wait a couple of days. I'm not sure I could handle all the, ah… the attention."

Mike stared at him expressionlessly for a couple of beats. "That's what you're calling it now? Attention?"

The younger man chuckled gently again, wrapping both arms around the pillow, bobbing his eyebrows above a smug and suggestive smile. "That's the PG version."

His partner lowered his head slightly and raised his eyebrows. "I bet it is." He grinned. "Listen, ah, you do everything the doctor's tell you, you hear me. I want you out of here sooner than later." His smile briefly disappeared and he swallowed self-consciously. He reached out and briefly touched the side of the younger man's face, nodding softly to himself. "You take care of yourself and I'll see you soon."

Then he turned without another word and shuffled to the door. He had just pulled it open when he heard his name called and he looked back at the bed. Steve was staring at him evenly. Their eyes locked for a long beat then the younger man smiled encouragingly and nodded. Mike nodded back then stepped through the door.