"Where'd you find that vest? Some second-hand store down at the marina? Decided to dress up as the star on top of the tree this year?"

Steve's high-pitched chuckle disrupted the tense silence that had filled the bullpen for the past few hours, as both detectives found themselves to be the lone souls working Christmas again that year.

Pulling the black reading glasses off his face, Mike grunted, startled at the blatant insult, and obvious joy his clothing choice had brought his partner.

"I will have you know that I bought it at that…that ehm fancy place up on Howard Street, what is it called again? Stanley's, I think."

"That's about what it looks like too.", Steve giggled and poured himself some fresh coffee, before joining the Lieutenant in his office, "They like to cater to retirees and carry these obscenely bright colored suits and vests. Maybe as your vision goes, it looks better?"

"Now, you little…", Mike bit his lip before the word could escape, unable to maintain the stern look much longer, "I happen to think it compliments my black suit just fine. The tailor there said the same thing."

"I bet he did."

Beyond the cheeky grin, Steve's warm eyes met his for a brief moment of mutual comradery, the deep affection for his partner and best friend radiating through every pore of the young Inspector's body.

"You really think it looks that bad?"

Insecurely glancing down at the yellow vest that looked decidedly brighter in the lights of the bullpen, Mike saw Steve step closer, until he stood right next to him.

"Unless you want to play a part in this years' Christmas story at church and pose as the Star of Bethlehem, it…well…it's pretty bad."

When they both broke out in laughter, Mike reached up to grab the nape of Steve's neck, shaking him amicably.

"My partner, the fashion coach."

"What can I say…", Steve countered with a broad smile, before slapping his shoulder, "Somebody has to take care of you, Michael."

# # #

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared below his jaw line, when Mike feared that his haunting nightmares might after all come true, that he may never see the warmth and humanity in those green eyes again.

And with it came the heartbreaking thought that life without his best friend would never be the same.

For a brief moment, he let his gaze drift over the crowd watching them intently, their empty faces growing gloomy when they saw the despair in his eyes, some of them turning their heads out of embarrassment for their tasteless curiosity.

When nothing happened after round upon round of CPR, casting a shadow of inevitable doom over the group gathered behind the police car, he saw a woman reach down to cover her child's eyes as if to spare him the sight of death once the curtain fell.

Cursing them all, he sighed, tightening his fingers around his partner's cool skin, this thumb gently caressing Steve's cheek while tilting his head back.

Torn between terror, heartbreak and the guilt he felt about not recognizing the connection of the letters and characters in Hamlet sooner, Mike didn't hear his name being called out, until a strong hand squeezed his wrist urgently.

"Mike…Mike, hold on a second. We've got a pulse."