Sleep had been a rare commodity entirely out of his grasp that night.
Mike's stern warning to stay put and not head to the office or start some witch-hunt up and down each city block had been followed by a uni dispatched to his apartment, the patrol car seeking out a parking spot away from the streetlights to monitor any suspicious comings and goings.
As much as Steve trusted his uniformed brethren, the thought of turning from hunter to being hunted bothered him greatly, his mind unable to find any sort of rest no matter how many times Janine tried to calm him down with everything from a massage, to poems and one final, desperate attempt to boil up some sleepy-time tea.
For once, Steve had longed for the morning to come, greeting the first sunrays appearing off in the east, watching them light up the buildings in his neighborhood in their bright orange hue.
Somewhere around 4am, Janine had finally succumbed to the exhaustion and fell sleep in his arms, her slow, soft breaths feeling so warm against his bare chest. Exhaling slowly, he glanced down at her pretty face, the long lashes that needed no make-up, her lean body curled around his like a second skin.
Today, they would get one step closer to their network of homicidal surgeons, he knew that for fact. Mike and he would turn this town upside down trying to figure out who was following them around, turning the tables once again to bring the perpetrators to justice.
Today, he also mused, was another day on the force, another chance to get hurt or killed. It was a sad possibility in every cop's life, a distinct chance that became more realistic the closer they came to the people responsible for the mass murder on a scale he'd never encountered before.
He could feel it as a slight tingle his fingertips, as a shudder running down the length of his spine, as a bone chilling cold enveloping his body despite the warmth of his bed.
Janine would never know about his worries, he'd made sure of that. Such a bright and cheerful spirit didn't deserve to deal with the demons of his dangerous profession, with the never-ending slew of possible scenarios from which they picked every day, having to prepare for the worst- and best-case scenario all at once, and being at peace with whichever outcome fate decided to throw at them.
While his girlfriend's world was filled with yoga, lotus-flowers and spicy cabbage, his was filled with killer profiles, dead bodies, heart-broken next-of-kin and the unmistakable scent of decomp. The connection they shared were a few cultural interests and a physical attraction his body couldn't deny. And yet, some nights, it felt as though he was living a lie with her around, gently shielding her from the horrors of his job, working arduously to keep Janine oblivious to the dark reality surrounding them.
Most days that worked out well.
Last night it didn't.
Aware of the situation by now, it had taken all his acting skills to assure her that everything was alright and that there was nothing to worry about, all while his own body defied the lies, causing his heart to race incessantly, all his senses on high alert, unable to find peace of mind.
Eventually, as 6am struck, he leaned down to place a kiss on Janine's forehead, satisfied when the gesture didn't wake her up. Then, with the grace of a ninja, he slowly rolled out of bed, reaching for his clothes to shower and get dressed in the next room over.
Nothing would happen to Mike or him today, Steve told himself once again, narrowing the chances of a positive outcome to their investigation down to his own accord.
Nothing would happen but a haunting case being closed.
He'd make sure of that.