Steve sighed and stretched his stiff leg as best as possible, leaning deeper into the rocking chair, eyes drifting to the pack of ice keeping the swelling in his ankle at bay.
Somewhere behind him, Mike was tinkering around in the kitchen, working on brewing another pot of coffee or looking for a bag of potato chips.
The subdued atmosphere of the DeHaro house had done wonders to his strained mind after the afternoon hadn't gone to plan whatsoever. But at least there was one thing he had established- there was no way that the guy in the cassock running away from him was some late 50's, early 60's man.
No way.
Steve might not be the next Olympic champion in the 800m, but he was fast; fast enough to easily outrun a man nearly twice his age.
This situation this afternoon made him come to only one conclusion- the stranger had to be Reverend Joe's protégé. The fact that Linus was present made him wonder what the man's connection to Rick the Raccoon guy was, and whether or not Mike and he were being purposefully misled by the duo.
Perhaps there had been a good reason that the group of homeless people he and Tanner had encountered earlier were willing to go to war for the illusive man they had heard so much about, and yet couldn't put a face to the name thus far.
Reaching over to finish his beer with one final gulp, Steve kept his ears cued to his partner's fidgeting one room over, either keeping busy in the kitchen or pretending to anyways. All night long, ever since the unfortunate incident at the train tracks, Mike had kept to himself, unusually distant and quiet when it came to the circumstances of his absence during the foot chase.
And somewhere, hidden beneath the obvious guilt that the Lieutenant harbored was something else, a distinct sense of terror in his eyes that hadn't left since the warehouse fire several days ago; a foreboding sense of doom that erupted every time he suspected Osorro nearby.
Setting the beer bottle back down and nervously twirling it on the wooden side table, he glanced up when the noise of sirens disrupted the quiet atmosphere.
Down the road, a fire truck was approaching at a fast rate of speed, the roaring of the powerful engine making the ground shake as the vehicle drove by and took a right, briefly beeping its horn before disappearing off in the distance again.
It was an everyday occurrence in a city as large as San Francisco, and yet, it caused any activity in the kitchen behind him to cease completely.
Not for the first time since their frightening encounter with Osorro; Mike had fallen quiet, completely absorbed in his memories of the incident, unable to shake off the fear that had overtaken him since the fire.
At first, Steve had shrugged it off, considered it a natural reaction after what had happened. But as things seemed to get worse with each passing day, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that made the Lieutenant freeze in his spot whenever he heard or saw anything related to the fire.
And dollars to doughnuts, the same had happened today during the chase, whether Mike would admit to it or not.
"How's the ankle feeling?"
The question coming from right behind him made Steve flinch violently, and he turned around, trying to disguise his surprise beneath a cheeky grin.
"Just a bit sore still. Like the doctor said, hopefully it will be nearly back to normal in a few days. Just a sprain…"
Nodding quietly, Mike pointed his chin at the side table.
"Do you need another beer?"
"After you nearly gave me a heart attack just now? I guess so…"
The flippant comment was answered with an eyeroll as Mike leaned over to grab the bottle, stopping midway to tap his partner's shoulder.
"Since when are you getting startled so easily?"
Glancing over to meet his partner's prying eyes, Steve nearly bit his lip, trying to hold back a comment on the tip of his tongue, a subject he wasn't ready to tackle yet.
Mike seemed to sense his hesitation, his jovial demeanor being clouded by worry for a brief moment, his genuine smile drooping somewhat before he slowly retreated.
Unable to come up with any sort of fitting answer that wouldn't give away his concern or seem too superficial to be genuine, Steve remained quiet, knowing that the rest of the night would get spent walking on eggshells, as two partners tried to deal with a debilitating problem neither of them wanted to admit, much less discuss.
