"Where did you disappear to this morning?" Steve asked as he stepped through the open door and dropped into the guest chair.

Mike's head snapped up from the notes he was making on the yellow pad on his desk, his pen stopping mid-word. "Me? Oh, ah, there was a message on my answering machine when I got home last night. From my doctor. He wanted to check out my wrist one more time before he completely signed off on me going back out on the streets."

"And…?"

"And I'm officially back on the streets," the older man smiled as he casually tossed the pen on the desk and surreptitiously slid a file folder on top of the pad, hoping Steve didn't notice.

"Yeh!" Steve chuckled softly. "Well, that's good to know because we just got a case that Robbery was handling but now it's ours."

Mike frowned. "You mean that bodega robbery in The Castro the other night?"

"Yeah, the guy died this morning. So it's our case now. I'm just about to head down to talk to Patterson and Graham about it. You wanna come?" There was a twinkle in his eye that hadn't been there in awhile; they were both relieved to be back in harness with a new case after such an horrendous start to their year.

"Ah, no," Mike said simply, startling his partner. "I've got a few things to catch up on - you know, being the boss and all - so why don't you go get caught up and then you can do the same for me a little later."

Steve's face fell; he wasn't expecting that response. He got slowly to his feet, his hand on his tie. "Oh, ah, okay…. I'll let you know what they say." He stepped to the door, still facing his partner, looking slightly confused. "Everything okay?"

Mike smiled warmly. "Everything's fine. Just need to get things squared away before the end of the fiscal year and now's as good a time as any to start. Besides, you need to start taking the lead in more investigations and you know it, right?"

The younger man pursed his lips and nodded with a soft shrug, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted. When his partner nodded with an encouraging smile, he stepped through the door and started towards his desk, confused but stimulated. He had never really taken the lead on a case before; maybe it was time.

Mike watched him go with a relieved but silent sigh. There was so much he was going to have to keep from prying eyes in the next few days while he tried to figure out if what the old Chinese lady had told him was true.

# # # # #

"Oh, come on, Rudy, how many times over the years have I asked you for a… well, a favor?"

The captain leaned back in his black swivel chair and stared at his old friend across the large wooden desk. "You call this a favor?"

"Well, what would you call it?" Mike almost snapped.

Olsen snorted. "I don't know… 'Favor' just doesn't sound right…" His growl trailed off as he rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Oh, for god's sake, call it anything you want… All I'm asking is, can you please send a memo to Homicide requesting that Steve take on this new guy that's being transferred to our department, with regards to this murder we picked up from Robbery this morning."

"So you want to foist Steve off on somebody else?"

Mike sighed heavily and stared at his old friend from under a hooded, and not very amused, brow. "No, I do not want to foist Steve off on somebody else. I just don't want him hovering around for the next few days while I check out something that…" he hesitated and squirmed in the chair slightly, "that I would rather he didn't know about… for the time being at least." He finished with an almost apologetic shrug.

Olsen stared at him expressionlessly for a long beat. "Anything you want to tell me about?"

Mike shook his head. "Not yet. I want to keep things to myself for the time being. When, and if, I need… back-up, I'll let you know, believe me."

"So… what you're looking into could be a… a wild goose chase?"

The Homicide lieutenant met the clear blue eyes evenly. "I hope so, Rudy, I really hope so…"

Olsen frowned. "Could it get ugly?"

Mike snorted as he flashed a quick, mirthless smile. "If it goes the way I hope it doesn't, that's what I'm afraid of…"

The captain nodded slowly, his furrowed brow digging deep lines into his forehead. "I know I don't have to tell you this but I'm going to anyway…. Don't do anything stupid, Michael. You know you have the entire department behind you if you need them."

The smile that reappeared was filled with warmth and gratitude. "I know, Rudy, I know…"

# # # # #

"Did you know about this?" Steve started to ask before he even walked through the door, a letter in his hand and a scowl on his face.

Mike, who was facing his typewriter, glanced over his shoulder, looking overtop of his glasses. "Did I know about what?"

Steve held the paper out. "Rudy's asking me to take on the new guy."

"He is?" Mike managed to sound genuinely surprised as he swivelled in the chair and took the letter from his partner's outstretched hand.

"Did you put him up to this?"

"Me? Why do you think I had anything to do with it?" He started to read.

Steve frowned at the top of the older man's downturned head. "Well, if you didn't, who did?"

Mike finished reading the short missive before he looked up. "Why do you think someone else had to be involved? Why couldn't this be something Rudy thought of on his own?" He folded the letter and handed it back. "I told you earlier I think you should be heading up cases on your own; maybe he came to the same conclusion."

Steve pursed his lips and frowned again, looking perplexed.

"What? You don't think you're up to it?"

The younger man's eyes widened and he straightened up. "Of course I'm up to it -" he began sharply then stopped; Mike was staring at him with a whimsical smile under raised eyebrows. He grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "Okay, okay, I get your point… professor." He turned to the door then looked back. "Listen, ah, it's only temporary, right? I mean, you and I…?"

"Are still partners, don't you worry about that. I'm not about to give you up without a fight, but I think this is a great opportunity for you, don't you think?"

Steve nodded and turned to go.

"Oh, ah…" Mike stopped him and he looked back again. "Don't forget the new guy is older than you and he's been on the force longer too."

"Yeah, I know."

"You can do this, Steve, so don't underestimate yourself. You've been capable of heading up an investigation for a long time. There was just this old guy in your way," he chuckled with a warm smile.

Steve's smile was a tiny bit melancholic. "He wasn't in the way, he was showing the way." He tapped the doorframe twice as he stepped through and back to his desk.

Mike looked down at the desktop, his smile disappearing, and he swallowed heavily before turning back to the typewriter.

# # # # #

Ethan Collier was a thirty-eight-year-old, fifteen-year veteran who had spent most of his career on the street before joining the detective ranks as a Missing Persons inspector six years earlier. Stationed for most of his career in either the Mission or Northern Stations, his path rarely crossed those of the Homicide bureau and he and Steve had never met.

Collier, like Steve, was not a San Francisco native; he hailed from Southern California, close to San Diego, and he was a tall, muscular, blond former surfer. He had moved up the coast after finishing his poly-sci studies at UC San Diego and decided on the spur of the moment to join the SFPD. It turned out to be the best decision of his life.

After working hard to establish his reputation as an exceptional patrolman, he was tapped to join Missing Persons as an assistant inspector. He had made full inspector three years ago, and when the brass approached him about the possibility of a lateral transfer into Homicide, he jumped at the chance.

He walked into Homicide on Friday morning with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

# # # # #

Mike slid onto the bench seat of the red-leather booth at the back of the diner. He glanced at the older Chinese man in the dark blue leisure suit on the seat opposite and shook his head in amusement. "I see your taste in clothes hasn't improved much since you left the force, John," he chuckled as he settled in.

Huan Doan, known as 'Johnny' to his friends, "And I see you're still wearing the same suit and fedora," the ex-detective shot back with a genial laugh.

"Hey, why change something that works, right?" the Homicide detective grinned.

Doan opened his arms, gesturing down at his attire. "Same here."

Laughing, Mike extended his right hand across the table. "Thanks for meeting me," he nodded as they shook hands. "I know it's a little out of both our ways, but I really wanted to make sure neither of us was seen, and especially not together."

"Not a problem. So, what's up?"

"I need your services," Mike said flatly, leaning back in the booth, glancing up and smiling when the waitress approached. After ordering coffee and buttered toast, he leaned over the table. "I need you to do a little… surveillance for me."

"Off the books, you mean?"

"Way off. It's personal this time." He told the former SFPD Vice officer turned P.I. about the accident, the old woman's story and what the corner store owner had told him about the woman and the dog. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a folded piece of paper and handed it over.

Taking it with a frown, Doan opened the paper and read quickly.

Mike pointed at it. "That, unfortunately, is the only description I have of the woman."

Doan looked at him with a deep frown. "It's pretty vague…"

"I know, I know," the detective apologized, "but it's all I could get out of the guy. I want you to - discreetly, mind you - canvas the shops around the area and see if anyone else remembers her. And when you're done that, I have another job for you." He slipped his hand into his left jacket pocket and brought out a small colour photo, sliding it across the table. "I need some background on her. Everything you can get for me - family, job, schooling, friends, hobbies… you know the routine."

Nodding, Doan picked up the photo. "She's a real looker." His eyes suddenly snapped up and a deep frown furrowed his forehead. "Isn't that your partner?"

Reluctantly, Mike nodded. "Yeah… yeah, she's Steve's new girlfriend."

"And you suspect her of something hinky?"

Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "That's what I need you for, John. To let me know if I'm just getting paranoid in my old age."

# # # # #

Traffic was light as Mike drove back across the Bay Bridge into The City. He was grateful for that as his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. The idea that their accident hadn't really been an accident was something that had drifted in and out of his mind since it happened. If it was an accident, then their lives could go on; but now the doubt had thrown a monkey wrench into his every waking thought, and he knew he had to put it all to rest before he could move forward.

As he turned off the bridge onto the elevated Embarcadero Freeway, his thoughts returned once more to Judy Yudong. If it wasn't an accident, then her call must have been part of the plan. Clenching his jaw, he pounded his right fist lightly on the steering wheel, the knot in his gut tightening.