There was no chance of sleep left to be found after the Vargas situation that had unfolded in Mike's driveway.
As such, both detectives had resorted to sharing a quiet couple of coffees in the living room, trying to digest what had transpired and what that would mean for the remainder of the nightclub case.
Steve had an immense amount of respect for Mike's move to forego charging Vargas with a felony firearm possession and attempted murder, instead, offering an olive branch of peace during times when the family undoubtedly harbored a lot of resentment and hatred for anybody involved with the case.
He could only hope that the gesture would be met with the same level of grace on the receiving end.
Ignoring his growling stomach, Steve leaned deeper against the living room couch, giving the copious amount of coffee in his system a chance to disperse before adding more.
Mike had retreated to the kitchen for a few minutes, attempting to replicate Jeanie's waffle recipe with little success, judging by the occasional swear words being thrown at the stove, then the waffle iron, then the carton of eggs, all the while filling the entire house with the distinct odor of burnt batter.
Smiling at the entirely dysfunctional way the early morning had worked out for either one of them, Steve closed his eyes for a moment, cuing his ears to the calming noises of Mike rearranging the kitchen, knowing that at least for the time being, they were both ok.
The .32 sat on the dining room table, stripped off all its ammo and to be taken back to the Hall of Justice for ballistics checks just in case it had been used in a prior crime; and if not, to be properly destroyed.
As far as his nightmare was concerned, he had admitted to not having been able to sleep, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get himself to vocalize the terrorizing images that had began to haunt him.
Then again, in his incredibly intuitive ways, his best friend seemed to sense the truth anyways, no words needed.
Footsteps could be heard coming from the kitchen and he soon felt Mike's warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a moment longer than usual as he passed by, before sitting down in the old rocking chair across from him.
"You know, I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, Buddy Boy, but we might have to settle for a sandwich for breakfast. I think Fast Eddies should open up in another hour or so…"
With a broad smile, Steve shook his head, that grumbling stomach all of a sudden not such a big deal anymore.
"That's fine. There were enough coffee grounds left in my cup to feed me for the day."
The genial stab brought a broad smile to Mike's face and he leaned back in his rocking chair, slowly beginning to relax after the tumultuous events from earlier.
Grateful to see that some of the deep grooves in his partner's forehead had slowly started to even out again, Steve tried to come up with some lighter fare to discuss, hoping it would help them move past what happened earlier and prepare for the mess that would undoubtedly await them in Burlingame- except this time, Mike was faster.
"How are you handling the discovery of the boy's body? I am worried about you."
The earnest question cut straight through the defenses he never had a chance to build and Steve held his breath for a moment, trying to sort his long list of cliché answers that would portray that he was just fine and in working order- just to have Mike see right through it.
"I think it was harder for Carl.", the young Inspector finally said, cleverly moving the conversation into a different direction.
"Maybe so. But he doesn't have to come back to this job after everything is all said and done. I want to make sure you're alright. I can't afford you getting worked up and worried sick because this…discovery put some monkey wrench into your head."
So much for derailing the open-hearted conversation Mike would want to have.
"Well…it was difficult to see. I was holding out hope that somebody had kidnapped the boy. Until we get final confirmation from Bernie, I'd like to cling on to that hope. Even if its false."
Letting his answer sit out there for a painstaking few long moments, Mike finally nodded, then looked down at his steaming coffee cup.
"I have seen so much death and suffering…it's become a second nature, you know? But kids…I don't know…they're just a different. Seeing dead babies scars your soul in ways I never envisioned. It raises some…some primal anger inside me that is hard to corral. I am not sure what I will do when we finally close the net on Mears."
"We must be getting pretty close judging by Morris's attention to our progress. I bet he never envisioned us getting as far as we did. Now that he's keeping an eye on us, it will be interesting if the damaged Galaxie will only be the beginning. He might try to take things further to cover up whatever deal he has going on with Mears."
Taking a sip of coffee, Mike lowered his eyes in undisguised worry.
"I am afraid of that. To be honest with you, I thought it was him pointing a gun at me earlier."
Clenching his jaws at the mental image, Steve fell quiet for another moment, dreading the question he was about to ask but having to do so anyway.
"Then what do you want to do if he crosses that threshold?"
"I'm counting on him to do that. And when that happens, we'll do whatever is necessary to preserve innocent lives. That includes yours and mine as well, Buddy Boy."