By the third interrogation, Mike was beginning to regret starting his day in the office extra early after grabbing a change of clothes for Steve at his apartment, even stopping for a Danish on the way in. It was as though a tiny selfish voice inside him for once wished his bullpen wasn't filled with homeless people so that he could attend more important matters.

Another reason for his edginess was impatience.

A report from the San Francisco Fire Marshall was due on his desk any minute, giving him the most up to date information on all ongoing fire investigations, seeing if there was a chance that Osorro was still alive and continuing his dirty work. Media contact or not; a madman such as this one wasn't known to stop killing just because he got hurt during a stint.

He would even take a moment out of his busy day to get a hold of Bernie and see if-

"Like I told you, I never heard of the guy. Now, can I please go? I got money to make, if you know what I mean…"

Mike snapped out of his daydreams when the character in front of him raised his arms pleadingly, having been unable to contribute anything to their ongoing investigation into Reverend Joe's death- that was, if the body truly was Reverend Joe. The incessant chasing of shadows was beginning to irk him more and more, eating away on the last reserves of his patience, especially since they still had nothing to show for after a week of working the case.

It seemed as though things had come to a painful and complete standstill on either end of his current work schedule.

Through the glass walls of the interrogation room, he noticed Steve approach at a hasty pace, a set of manila file folders in hand that promised a change, a find perhaps, something, anything to get them farther ahead.

Bypassing the polite knock on the door, the young Inspector made eye contact with his best friend and superior, the eager expression in his face confirming Mike's suspicion that they'd finally made some headway.

Opening the door to meet his partner halfway, the Lieutenant raised his eyebrows in expectation.

"Tell me you've got something?"

"I've got a name.", Steve returned enthusiastically and held up one of the two files in his hand, "Lester Joseph Corbin, Caucasian Male, age 59, no known relatives, never been married, no kids, listed here as homeless and last known whereabouts unknown. Has several priors for possession and solicitation but they listed him under his first name and he didn't wear a cassock when he was booked, which is why he escaped our initial search."

"Good…good.", Mike rushed and licked his dry lips, "What about any military records? Anything we could get dental records from?"

"Nothing there. Never joined the military, never even finished High School. I just started to comb through this but it looks as though he was a drifter all his life. Any forwarding addresses he provided at booking were to local homeless shelters. I've got three of them listed here and was about to check them out with Tanner once we're done here."

Steve's find had been the wind under his wings he'd desperately needed on that challenging morning and Mike managed the first sincere smile in what seemed like several days, as he reached forward to squeeze his partner's shoulder.

Surprised when his euphoric gesture wasn't returned and the young Inspector's expression in fact turned serious, he froze in his spot.

"And…Sergeant Lukens dropped this off for you but you were busy with an interrogation. He said it's the Fire Marshall's arson investigation report."

There was an underlying accusatory tone in Steve's voice that wasn't appreciated the least and Mike nodded slowly, cursing himself for not making sure the envelope would be delivered to him and not anybody else.

"So?"

"Well, don't you think it's time you let this…this Osorro case rest for a bit?"

"We still don't have a positive ID on the body found in the warehouse. Since when do we stop an investigation on circumstantial evidence, Inspector?"

He could see Steve's jaws clench, a faint red hue appearing on the sides of his neck as the pent up frustration of the past few days was slowly creeping to the surface

"We are at a complete standstill until we can match the dental records. There is nothing more we can do in the meantime, you yourself said that, Mike. I mean, with all due respect, you haven't been the same since the fire. You are constantly…I don't know, it seems like you're constantly distracted. Or you freeze in your spot, where your mind is a million miles away and you won't hear anybody calling out your name. It's like you're in a different zone, a…a different world altogether. That's not normal. If anything, it's dangerous. Something is wrong with you and it's been affecting our current case."

The last words stung like battery acid and Mike pursed his lips, before slowly taking the envelope from his partner's trembling hand.

In the heat of the moment, his mind went blank, wandering back to the fire and the handful of days in the hospital he was left to ponder about what happened and just what could be done to put an end to a case that seemed to keep eluding his grasp a little farther each day.

And while everyone seemed to have chosen the path of comfortable oblivion when it came to the lack of a positive ID on the body, it was Mike who'd sworn to bring the man to justice and ensure he could never strike again, all while surrounded by flames and about to be burnt alive along with his partner.

He hadn't forgotten about that promise.

"I think there's a twenty-year difference of you having the experience to tell me how to do my job.", Mike fired back sternly, immediately seeing the walls of defiance rise beneath Steve's professional façade, the remaining file in his hand slowly dropping back down again, all the previous excitement washed off his face, "Have Lessing take over your interrogation group and grab Tanner to check out those homeless shelters. I've got work to do here."

With his expression having completely turned to stone by now, Steve nodded unperceptively, not even managing an angry 'Yes, Sir' this time as he spun around and limped straight back for his desk to grab his coat, nearly losing his grip on the case file because his hands were shaking so much.

It left Mike to stand in the doorway, gritting his teeth, torn on the truth in his partner's words and the voice in the back of his mind urging him not to let his guard down until Osorro's death could be confirmed without any reasonable doubt, no matter how much everyone else wanted to believe the arsonist was dead. Too fresh were the images in his mind, too powerful those nightmares that kept him awake night after night.

And both sides of that spectrum were beginning to wear on a friendship he cherished more than life itself.

"Hey, if you guys are done arguing amongst each other…", the homeless man sitting in the interrogation room behind him mumbled impatiently, "Can I please get out of here? I have a living to make, you know?"