Three hours later, the elevator fire was still deemed "under investigation", the Brass refusing to call it suspicious or accidental for fear of causing more concern or speculation amongst the many people working at the Hall of Justice Building.

Most of the fire trucks had left the scene by now, leaving behind only two pickups, one belonging to the Arson Investigator and the other one to the Building Inspector; both men busy evaluating the structural integrity while overseeing that the remnants of the toxic smoke were cleared out of the hallways and offices.

It had been advised by the Brass that all non-essential duties be pushed off a couple of days, the connecting hallway to the County Jail be sealed off until the adjacent building was deemed safe, and any urgent investigative work be done through the offices of the Police Headquarters on 3rd Street.

Despite the glimmer of hope that the building would be accessible again to any of his records stored on the 4th floor by tomorrow morning, Mike wasn't looking forward to the undetermined amount of time it would take to get the elevators working again, causing a slew of issues when it came to bringing visitors and suspects up into their bullpen.

"I guess everyone's gonna get a workout for a while.", had been Olsen's flippant response to his worries, the tone of voice suggesting that the Lieutenant of Homicide wasn't the least bit interested in any further argument with him at that time.

How much of it had to do with the 800lb Gorilla in the room, the newly-fueled concern that Osorro had something to do with the fire, he couldn't tell. But judging by the change of tone in his superior's voice when talking to other department heads, it seemed safe to assume that Olsen had an axe to grind with him for one reason or another, neither of which making Mike want to stay behind much longer.

Instead, he'd decided to call it a day for both of them, jumping behind the steering wheel of the tan Galaxie to navigate them through the maze of news vans that had lined both Bryant Street and Harriet to get first a glimpse of what was going on.

Next to him on the passenger side of the bench, Steve had been decidedly quiet, that busy mind brooding away at something Mike couldn't be sure of at the moment.

Perhaps it had to do with staying back during the fire or even the overwhelming anxiety of having to evacuate the building. Knowing the young Inspector too well, it could be something entirely different altogether at this point.

He'd kept his plans for the remainder of the afternoon vague, to say the least, more or less because Mike wasn't too sure what those plans entailed other than to get away for a bit, breathe some fresh air and clear their minds before heading home.

As it was, his seemingly mindless travel brought them east onto Channel Street, where he pulled into a parallel parking spot next to Mission Creek Park.

Even though it was nestled against busy downtown San Francisco, the park exuded the serenity and privacy of a remote island, away from the noise, the hustle and bustle, along with their morose line of work.

Following his partner unquestioningly, Steve got out of the car, waiting for Mike to come around the hood, before both homicide detectives crossed the curb to the adjacent sidewalk.

As they strolled along, he pulled a pack of chewing gum out of the pocket of his black overcoat, one for himself, and one he handed to his partner, receiving a grateful smile in return.

And so they walked in mutual silence for many minutes; taking in the Mission Creek Channel that separated this sanctuary from the commotion of downtown, acting as a green barrier from the noises and sights that overwhelmed their senses on a daily basis.

It did his soul good to get away for a little while, clear his mind and breathe air that didn't smell of stale coffee or fresh Telex ink. As such, Mike was hoping it would do the same for his partner.

Stealing a quick glance over at the young man next to him, he noticed that Steve's gaze was lowered to the ground, hands shoved in the pockets of his beige over coat, following his partner around mindlessly more or less out of habit than to actively relax.

With a slight giggle, Mike wrapped a strong arm around his partner's slim shoulders, causing his head to snap up.

"Seems like I gotta get you out more often, Buddy Boy."

"Well, you talked about spending your lunch hour out here…", Steve countered plainly, following along with the conversation without getting too involved himself.

"I am thinking more than just that. You know, we start our day in the office, then sit behind the steering wheel, get back to the office, head home…there's just so little time we spend on the fresh air these days. I remember when I was a kid…you couldn't get me back in the house before dinner time."

When Steve just smiled, Mike could sense his thoughts drifting away from the peaceful atmosphere of the park once again, so he gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"What about you? Did you spend much time outside as a kid?"

"Not really…let's just say I have to come by my bracing suntan the hard way even to this day."

Slowing down a little, Mike cocked his head at a couple of seniors passing them by, curiously following the exchange from a few feet away, before clearing his throat to continue.

This time however, Steve was faster.

"Are you going to follow through with what you promised Lenny if we don't clear up the Osorro case in a couple of weeks? The counseling, I mean?"

Surprised, Mike raised his eyebrows, taking a moment to think about a fitting answer.

"I don't know, to be perfectly honest. I just don't know. And even if we don't catch Osorro, I just can't wrap my mind around the idea that talking to Lenny about it will make any sort of difference when it comes to the nightmares and such. It's bad enough he interferes with my thoughts during the day, I don't feel like having him dig in my head at night too. At this point…I'll wait and see."

Steve chuckled quietly, having expected that answer, before his expression turned somber again.

"I guess…if it turns out that this was Osorro's doing again, I owe you an apology…"

With a dismissive wave of the hand, Mike picked up his pace again, pushing Steve along with him.

"You don't owe me anything, Buddy Boy."

After a couple of steps, he could sense the young Inspector hesitate once more.

"I am just wondering why we didn't see a blue balloon anywhere? You'd think he'd want to rub it in that he got all the way into the building, make us look like fools."

"He's playing with us, balloon or no balloon.", Mike countered solemnly as they slowly headed toward the waiting Galaxie, "Just sitting somewhere in the background, pulling the strings, laughing, as he watches us scramble."

"Thankfully nobody got hurt this time. You think he'll try it again?"

"I'll lay money on it."

"Then what are we supposed to do? You can't seal the entire building up, huddling inside, waiting for him to try again."

"I know that, Buddy Boy, I do, believe me.", reaching for the nape of his partner's neck, Mike pulled Steve closer, hoping the gesture would assuage some of the fear and insecurity circling around in those curious green eyes, "Right now, there's just one thing we can be absolutely sure of, and that is the fact that he's coming after us. You and me. We got away twice now, and he won't stop until he succeeds in killing us. And when…when that next attack comes…"

Mike licked his dry lips at what he was about to say, trying to drown out the overwhelming emotions beneath a half-hearted smile that disappeared as fast as it came.

"When that next attack comes, well…well, Stephen, I just…I don't want you to hang around looking for me again, you got that? You get out of there and save your own life. That's an order, Inspector."