"So… cabin fever hasn't started setting in, I take it?" Mike smirked as he set the white paper bag on the kitchen table then reached up to take his fedora off and hang it over an ear on the third chair.

Smiling, Steve turned from the counter with two plates. "Remarkably enough, no," he chuckled. "Between you and, ah, Linda, I have not been at a loss for company."

"I still haven't met her, you know," the older man pointed out as he slipped his jacket over the cast then dropped it onto the back of his chair.

"I know," Steve set the plates on the table as Mike opened the bag and took out two round foil containers with cardboard lids and put one beside each plate. "And I'm going to remedy that on Saturday."

"Oh, what's happening on Saturday?" The older man sat, starting to peal back the edges of the foil.

Returning to the counter, Steve picked up two cans of soda and brought them to the table.

"Can you open that?" he asked as he put the ginger ale in front of his partner.

Mike glanced at the can and nodded. He raised his left hand and wiggled his fingers. "I can use them now. So what's happening on Saturday?"

Chuckling, Steve sat and opened his Coke then started on the foil of his own food container. "Well, remember I told you her parents own one of those small restaurants on Pacific?" Mike nodded perfunctorily as he put his club sandwich on the plate, dumping the French fries on top of it. "So, seeing as I can't be out and about for another week -"

"You promised."

"Yes, I did," Steve confirmed without missing a beat, "she is going to pick up a bunch of dishes - like the ones she brought here for me that first night - and she wants you to come over and we'll have a… meet-and-greet-and-eat. What do you think?"

Picking up a section of the club, Mike grinned. "I love that idea. Count me in. What can I bring?"

Smiling, Steve shrugged and shook his head. "Probably nothing but I'll check with her. Maybe a nice bottle of wine? I don't know what wine goes with authentic Chinese food but I'll ask. How's the club?"

Chewing vigorously, Mike nodded, raising his eyebrows and giving as best a thumb's up as he could with his left hand.

# # # # #

"So for a starter instead of plain old wonton soup, which I'm sure you've eaten your share of over the years, Mike, we're going to start with San Xian Wonton soup. Don't let the name fool you - these wontons are far superior to the ones I bet you're used to eating," Linda smiled mysteriously, including Steve in her gaze as she ladled it into their dishes. "They have shrimp, pork and chicken."

Mike picked up his ceramic spoon and took a sip of the broth, his eyes widening in surprise and delight. Without a word, he spooned up a wonton and slipped it into his mouth. Both younger people watched as he chewed, his expression unreadable. When he finally swallowed, he looked at Steve. "We've been eating in the wrong places…"

The other two burst into laughter, Linda beaming with pride as she watched the younger man lean over his bowl in anticipation.

"What other treasures have you brought for us, my dear?" Mike's eyes were sparkling and Steve watched him from under a lowered brow, thrilled that his partner was finding Linda just as captivating as he did.

Laughing softly, she sat down, picking up her own spoon. She pointed to each of the cardboard containers in turn. "Zha Jiang Mian - noodles with pork and soybean paste; La Zi Ji - chicken with chillies -"

"Oh, he'll love that," Steve interjected with a snort, pointing his spoon at his partner; with a quick frown in the younger man's direction, Mike nodded enthusiastically and she chuckled.

"Yu Xiang Rou Si - shredded pork in a hot garlic sauce, and Cong You Bing or scallion pancakes."

As if hanging on her every word, Mike had followed the pointing spoon with impressive concentration. He looked up at her and grinned. "If any of this tastes half as good as it smells, I will feel as if I have died and gone to heaven. " Chuckling warmly, he dug into the bowl of wontons again.

Linda looked at Steve, smiling shyly. He winked at her and smiled back.

# # # # #

"So you met her?"

"Yeah, last night," Mike chortled as he settled back in the recliner with a fresh cup of coffee. They had been talking for almost an hour already as he filled his daughter in on all that had happened during the past week.

He had downplayed the severity of the accident, which put her at ease early on once she was assured he and Steve were all right and he quickly turned the conversation around to Steve's new love interest. He had hesitated to use the word 'girlfriend' as yet because he wasn't sure they were actually past the 'honeymoon' phase of their initial meeting, and he was definitely unaware if they had progressed further than just sharing time and food together.

Truth be told, if any progressing was going to be done, it most likely would have occurred last night after he had left Steve's apartment with a full belly and a warm contentment. Things were finally starting to look up for the charming young man who had had more than his fair share of bad luck in the opposite sex department.

"She brought authentic Chinese food over. Her parents own a small restaurant up on Pacific and she brought some over to Steve's last night."

"And,,,?"

"And it was delicious. I won't be ordering the same stuff the next time I eat in Chinatown, that's for sure. I made her write down all the names of all the dishes -"

"I wasn't asking about the food, Mike," Jeannie sighed in frustration, stifling a snort, "I meant, what's she like?"

"Linda? Oh, she's great. She's everything he said she was, smart, gracious… gorgeous. The whole package."

"Oh yeah…?" Over the long-distance line, Jeannie's tone sounded a little strained. Mike smiled to himself; he knew his daughter realized long ago that Steve would always consider her the little sister he never had, but that didn't stop her from unwittingly vetting every girl Steve looked at twice.

"Well, I'm happy for him. He needs this. He's had a rough time lately. She's going to be good for him, for his self esteem. Maybe he's finally found the someone he deserves."

"Yeah, you're right. How's his head?"

"Getting better all the time. He gets to come back to the office at the end of next week if his doctor okay's it so that'll be good for both of us. So, enough about us - what's new with you?"

He hung up almost an hour later.

# # # # #

Steve was welcomed back to work with open arms. Though the nascent talk of strike hadn't gotten any stronger, there was still a sense of unease in the building, and Homicide seemed busier than ever. And with Mike and Steve literally on the sidelines for at least the next couple of weeks, their presence in the office, even if they only handled the paperwork, went a long way in helping with the backlog.

Healey and Haseejian had gotten a credible lead in the Wharf tourist murder and managed, after a brief and bloodless shootout in a sleazy little motel on the west side, to collar their suspect. But several other cases were still stubbornly open, and overnight a businessman had been found dead in his office in the financial district, the obvious victim of foul play. It was a case Mike and Steve would've taken on.

Instead, the lieutenant had to settle for coordinating things in homicide from behind his desk. It wasn't sitting well with him and, as the day got longer, his telephone manner became more and more abrupt. So, around four o'clock, Steve would wander in with a fresh cup of coffee and try to divert his cantankerous partner's attention; it always worked.

Then, suddenly it seemed, Steve and Linda realized it had been a month since they had met. They had, almost unbeknownst to either of them, become a couple. So, as a way to mark the occasion, Linda invited Steve to her parents restaurant for a 'special dinner'.

Her parents, who had emigrated from Hong Kong with her paternal grandmother just before she was born, were a warm and charming couple who spoke very little English, depending on Linda's sister and two brothers to run the restaurant. Steve met them all, and he was treated like royalty as they dined on a sumptuous meal at a small table in the back, festooned with a fancy tablecloth and an impressive candelabra. It was a wonderful night and, if nothing else, it cemented their relationship even more.

Mike was more than pleased. Steve was relaxed and happy and taking a renewed interest in everything it seemed, even chomping at the bit to get back on the streets, something that was still not a viable option for another couple of weeks at least.

The only fly in his ointment, it seemed, was that the woman who had phoned about a possible tip in the Chinese restaurant murder hadn't called back - and that omission was troubling Mike more than he cared to admit.

# # # # #

"So you're going to see your doctor at three, right?" Mike asked for what felt like the twentieth time as he passed Steve's desk on the way to his office. It seemed the older man was more anxious than even he was to get him back on the street.

Steve looked up with a warm smile. "Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on the clock. I won't be late."

Haseejian was standing at the coffee station and looked over at the partners with interest. He wandered closer to Steve's desk with an enigmatic smile on his broad face. "So you're finally gonna be getting off your duff and back to doing some real work?" he chuckled.

Steve sat back in his chair with a smirk and tossed his pen on the desk insouciantly. "Yes, Norm, I will finally be getting back to doing some real work," he replied dryly.

Mike, who was standing at his office door, pointed at the sergeant. "But that doesn't mean you can slack off now, Norm," he paused dramatically and glanced at Steve with a brief nod then finished, "well, not any more than you usually do." Without another word he stepped into the office and closed the door.

"Hey!" Haseejian protested to the closed door as Steve laughed, leaned forward and picked up his pen again. Growling good-naturedly, the swarthy sergeant crossed the bullpen to his desk.

Chuckling to himself, Mike was just crossing around his desk to the chair when the phone rang. He snagged the receiver during the first ring. "Homicide, Stone."

There was a short silence then a quiet, "Lieutenant Stone…?"

He froze. Even in those two short words he could hear the accent. He slipped between the desk and the chair and sat, jamming the receiver between his left shoulder and his ear as he pulled a pad of paper closer. "Yes, this is Lieutenant Stone. How can I help you?" He kept his voice calm and even as he picked up his pen.

"Okay, um… um good… Um, I'm the one who called you… about the murder at Chu Shing…"?"

"Yes, I remember," he said gently. "We were on the corner at 5 o'clock but…"

"Yes… yes, I saw you… I saw what happened…"

"You were there?"

"Yes, I was watching you… I saw what happened…. Are you all right?"

"Yes… yes, I am, we both are."

"That's good…"

There was an uncomfortable silence; he didn't want to press her. There was a reason for her call. But when the pause stretched too long, he ventured, "Are you still willing to meet with us about what you know?"

He heard her swallow then take a deep breath. "I, ah, I know who did it. And I know where you can find him."