Propped up in his recliner with his injured knee resting comfortably on an ottoman and wrapped in ice packs, Mike sighed.
Torn between amusement, adoration and mild annoyance at Steve's increasing level of mother-henning; he took another sip of hot coffee and let his eyes wander across the living room.
The young Inspector had just returned from washing dishes and taking the trash out, when he finally sat down for what seemed like the first time in the past hour.
"Is the ice still cold enough? I should probably get you some more.", he muttered nervously and readied himself to get back up from the couch, when Mike raised his arms and signaled for him to stay put.
"Easy now. Just…sit. Relax. You're driving me up the wall with your fidgeting."
The kindhearted request made Steve lean back hesitantly, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the knee in question. Mike could sense his agitation from across the room. He knew too well that between the unease for their current case and his partner's unjustified concern about his injury, Steve's only emotional outlet was to mother-hen him to death.
So far, that's exactly what the young Inspector seemed to be aiming for.
"How is it feeling? I really think you should have a doctor look at it. What if you tore a tendon?"
Unwilling to start another debate about the injury that was nothing more than a twisted knee, Mike pointed at the small living room table in front of his partner.
"It's almost back to normal again. Will you drink your beer? I think you need another two after that one."
Smiling cheekily, Steve opened the cold bottle, before taking several sips. Resting his head against the back of the couch, the young Inspector took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes.
Mike could only guess what images were going through his mind, as the seconds passed by and a tense silence filled the living room.
Looking down at the newspaper in his lap, he felt a wave of sadness wash over him when the sports section headline indicated yet another loss for the 49'ers. Second one this season too, which was surprising after a strong finish in the previous three years. Perhaps the age of the team had something to do with it.
"This beer is going straight to my head.", Steve mumbled from the couch, causing Mike to look back up.
Noticing his partner's bleary eyes, he wondered if the young Inspector was going to sleep on him.
"Well, maybe you should have tried to eat more than one slice of pizza, Buddy Boy. I have bread in the fridge if you want to make yourself some toast."
"I wasn't complaining about it."
Shaking his head, Steve took another few gulps of beer before loosening his tie and draping it over his shoulders. Mike watched him intrigued, somewhat regretting his earlier suggestion to drink more.
When Steve noticed his partner's glance, he sat the bottle back down and crossed his legs, letting his nervous fingers pick on a damaged seam on his expensive dress pants.
"What is it that's eating you up?", Mike finally asked and rested his hands on the newspaper in his lap, "You haven't been yourself since this whole case started. Is that what Lenny talked to you about?"
Mike knew he was right the instant that Steve's bright green eyes snapped up and stared at him in surprise. Taking a second to gather his thoughts, the young Inspector drew in a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth, as he slowly nodded.
"Yeah. I guess he was just worried."
"And so am I.", Mike countered while keeping his voice calm, "I am your partner, Steve. I care."
The young Inspector glanced up and smiled appreciatively. Under the pressure of Mike's intense eyes, he nervously leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"It's just that…every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Like, you know, how it would have looked like. And I…I…eh…I imagine the situation she was in and the fear she would have felt up until the very last moment. I know that somewhere in all this is an unimaginable amount of human tragedy and countless opportunities that could have changed the outcome. And a society that let her down."
"Society has been doing this a lot lately, hasn't it?"
When Steve didn't answer and returned to his quiet brooding, Mike took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat again.
"Do you remember when I interviewed you for Homicide and I told you that this line of work will wear on you? Mostly because we don't prevent crimes like you do in Vice, our crimes have already taken place. It leaves us to solve the murders with no way of bringing the victim back. That can be depressing at times…You were still such a young puppy then."
"Mike, that was just a few years ago.", Steve interrupted, unable to keep a stern face with his partner grinning broadly.
"That's right.", Mike paused for a second, letting the cherished memory stay in his mind a little bit longer, before focusing back at the task at hand, "Did you know that Homicide has one of the highest personnel turnover rates in the police force? And for good reason. Seeing every type of vile human behavior on a daily basis is a recipe for bitterness. Even heartlessness sometimes. It makes people question the legitimacy of their work. To some, it makes them even question their own humanity. And the more you care about your job and the people you serve, the more it affects you."
"How do you keep it from affecting you then?" Steve's question was in earnest, as the young Inspector eyed his partner intrigued.
"You can't. It just happens to people who care. But caring is what makes a great detective. And that's why not everybody is cut out for the job. It takes a special kind of character to handle homicides, because they demand the highest level of integrity and dedication there is. Our job is to bring closure and serve justice, all while dealing with raw human emotions…Those of the public, and those of our own, late at night, as we lay in bed wondering what could have been done to prevent a person from getting murdered. And sometimes it takes many nights of thinking, before we come to terms with the fact that we can't save the whole world…The only problem is that we care too much to stop trying."