After parking the Galaxy next to an array of squad cars on the east side parking lot, Mike made his way back toward headquarters, enjoying the rare sight of a blue sky, possibly a promise to a better day than the previous one.

Cocking his head at a few patrol officers exiting the glass door to get ready for another day out on the streets, he drew in one last breath of brisk morning air, before entering the darkened hallway leading to the visitor's area and elevators. As he passed the directory like he'd done countless times in the past thirty years, his eyes mechanically wandered to the sign for the Homicide Department in Office 450.

Filled with a deep sense of pride of what that office stood for and the many cases they'd solved over the years, along with the closure they'd brought countless families, Mike almost overlooked the lone figure leaning up against the concrete walls farther down the corridor, where the snack machines were located.

Frowning, Mike bridged the short distance to his old partner, all his senses cued on Steve's physical appearance, the color of his skin, his breathing, trying to make sure that the young man was alright. It was a feeling of constant fear, an anticipation of disaster he was neither comfortable with, nor happy about.

"The office is the other way…", Mike teased and reached for Steve's elbow, pulling the young Professor out of his deep state of brooding. With his back against the wall and his head dropped to his chest, he'd never had a chance to see the Lieutenant approach. But for once, Steve looked up at Mike in unmasked excitement.

"I was waiting for you. And I couldn't sit still any longer. Doctor Meyers said you were on your way back so I thought I'd catch you down there. I think we've got something."

Not letting go of Steve's elbow, Mike stepped closer, one eye slightly squinted against the overhead fluorescent light.

"What is it?"

"A hunch.", Steve answered cryptically and pointed his chin to the stairwell leading to the basement floors, "My boys brought up another connection we both failed to see. The list, Mike. The murders appeared in the same order that the names are listed on the signup sheet at the gun range. What if they were chosen arbitrary? What if our killer was simply looking for a few cops to kill and came across that signup sheet and picked the names out from there? If they were truly shot and killed as a form of collateral damage, a lure so to speak, to get you involved and possibly killed-"

"It would be a perfect plot…", Mike continued and nodded somberly, "Because everything that did connect them was leading us down the wrong path, destined to keep us chasing shadows, while the real killer is still at large…"

"Mhm hm. Let's go see Dewitt. We might need to get HR involved to find out exactly what happens to these signup sheets and who is in our potential realm of suspects. Once we have that we can-"

Sporting the legendary cheeky grin full of youthful enthusiasm, Steve was ready to rush to the elevators when Mike held him back, his hand on the young man's elbow tightening significantly.

"How much coffee have you had? You're acting like you're going a million miles per hour. Have you taken your meds?"

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Steve used his free hand to tap the breast pocket of his pinstripe suit.

"You can quit the babysitting. I am fine. Took my meds shortly after you left to see Dan."

Looking around to make sure they didn't have company, Mike let go of his old partner's arm, before pointing a warning finger at his chest.

"Don't you dare to forget what you promised me. Because we're walking a tightrope here. Daniel may not remember who shot him, but he remembers talking to Barb about you. And she's spilled the beans on what the Doctor said you should and shouldn't do. And it doesn't include any of this…this investigative work. If Dewitt as much as smells that something is wrong, if you end up collapsing in the office, or worse, well…there'd be a lot of questions coming up that neither one of us is ready to answer."

Seeing all color drain out of Steve's face, Mike hesitated a moment, before continuing.

"Now, I appreciate everything you and the boys have done so far to push this case forward, I really do. But, Stephen, I want you to understand something. And it's very important.", when the young Professor glanced up at him in dreadful anticipation, Mike grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him closer until their faces were only inches apart, "Nothing about this case, this job, our work here or even Berkeley… I mean…absolutely none of that…is worth you getting hurt or killed over, do you understand that?"

When a set of warm green eyes met his, Mike swallowed hard for a moment, trying to keep his voice steady and his lip from quivering.

"Because I can't…well…I can't bear the thought of losing you, Buddyboy…I really can't."