They had spent the off-day quietly. Mike, not wanting to push his luck, opted to spend the day in bed, finally starting one of the many as yet unopened books that had accumulated over the past few years, most of them birthday and Christmas presents. Steve had quietly puttered around the house, making breakfast and lunch, reading the papers, watching a little television, and retreating from time to time to Jeannie's room, closing the door.

Mike allowed him his solitude, knowing that if the young man wanted to talk, he would. And if he wasn't ready yet, Mike was fine with that as well.

He was just starting the fifth chapter of 'Winds of War' when a very pleasant odour wafted under his closed door. Lifting his head slightly, he sniffed the air, a delighted smile brightening his entire face. He picked up the bookmark from the blanket over his lap and slid it between the pages, placing the hardback book on the bedtable, his reading glasses on top. He glanced at the clock/radio: 6:18. He grunted softly; it was later than he thought. Getting slowly and carefully to his feet, he reached for the dressing gown on the end of the bed and slowly shrugged it on, stepping into his slippers and heading for the door.

Steve was standing at the stove, the sound of sizzling meat filling the air around him.

"Is that what I think it is?" Mike asked from the doorway and the younger man jumped slightly, turning with a scowl that was quickly replaced by a grin.

"If you're thinking it's hamburger, then you're right."

Mike's smile got even wider. "I haven't had one of those in ages… what with all the homecooked meals I've had lately, and all the pizzas we choked down before that…" He sniffed the air theatrically then chuckled. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, boy oh boy…". Rubbing his hands together like the villain in an old-time Western he stepped deeper into the room. "Anything I can do to help?"

His attention back on the stove, Steve shook his head. "The buns are warming in the oven, the fixings have all been prepared," he nodded over his shoulder at the table, where Mike could see a couple of plates of sliced tomato and onion, leaves of lettuce, and individually wrapped slices of cheese. Nearby were bottles of ketchup, mustard and hot sauce and a large bowl of rippled potato chips. "Why don't you get yourself something to drink and just sit and relax."

"I can do that," Mike chuckled as he made his way to the fridge and took out a pleasantly cold can of ginger ale.

He was halfway to the table when Steve asked casually, "So when did you release the car that was sitting in front of the house?"

Mike had frozen mid-step for a beat and he cleared his throat self-consciously as he popped the top on the can. He took another beat before answering lightly, "Oh, ah, a couple of days ago. When did you notice?" He took a sip of the sweet soda as he carefully lowered himself into a chair.

"This afternoon, when I looked out the window to see what the weather was doing." He paused and Mike waited, knowing there would be more. "Why?"

"What?"

Steve wasn't sure if Mike hadn't actually heard him or was just being evasive. "Why did you send them away?"

He heard the older man cleared his throat slightly. "Because I didn't think it was necessary anymore… and it wasn't in anyone's best interest to keep another car off the streets when they have better things to do." He paused for a beat. "Do you disagree?"

Steve turned his head and met the determined blue eyes evenly. After a beat, he shook his head. "No, not at all." He broke the stare, turning back to the stove. "I'm just a little pissed off at myself for not noticing before now."

Mike snorted softly. "Well, you've had a lot on your mind."

"That's no excuse."

"Well, under normal circumstances, I would agree," Mike said matter-of-factly, "but these are not normal circumstances."

Steve froze for a split second, then resumed baby-sitting the hamburgers. After a few seconds, he announced, "I believe these are done." He turned a knob on the back of the stove, set the frying pan on a back burner then turned off the oven and opened the door, carefully removing two of the warm buns.

Smiling affectionately, Mike watched as Steve slid the still sizzling burgers onto the open buns then brought the plates to the table with a broad grin. "Dinner is served!"

# # # # #

Steve closed the front door and locked it behind him before starting down the stairs at a jog. The day off had gone a long way towards restoring his equilibrium; not once had Mike asked him about what had gone on in Pollard's office. Instead they had just enjoyed both the low-key companionship and much-needed periods of solitude, an oasis of calm and normality in a world that had flipped completely upside down.

But now it was time to get back to work. And, surprisingly, he was almost looking forward to it, buoyed by the hope that Pollard and Budzinski would be able to help him find something hidden in the recesses of his memory that would exonerate him in the eyes of the law.

The burgundy LeSabre was parked across the street and he jogged around the trunk and got in. "Good morning," he enthusiastically greeted the ex-cop as he settled onto the red leather front seat and closed the door.

Budzinski's smile was slightly strained and Steve frowned. He was about to ask if dinner and a movie with his wife had somehow gone wrong when the investigator picked up the folded newspaper on the seat beside him and tossed it closer. "Brace yourself," he said flatly, an ominous tone in his voice.

Steve's smile vanished as he picked up the paper and opened it. He could already tell from the size it wasn't the Chronicle. And he was right: it was the latest edition of the weekly SF Insider. And there, on the front page, was the 'San Francisco's Finest?' flyer of himself and Collier that had circulated in The Castro a few weeks back. This time the lurid headline read: 'Is Killer Keller (Being) Straight?'

Budzinski could see the muscles in the young man's jaw tighten as he stared at the paper, his face flushing. "Don't take it seriously," he said quietly, "no one else will."

Steve's head shot up, his eyes blazing. "This is libel," he hissed through clenched teeth.

The ex-cop sighed softly and shook his head. "Not when they put a question mark behind it. That's how they get away with this kinda crap. It's innuendo, not a statement of fact."

"It's bullshit!"

"Look, you know it and I know it, and everybody who knows you knows it. But I'm gonna tell you, and I'm sure Pollard and your partner will say the same thing - you have to ignore this, Steve. You can't rise to the bait or they'll just keep coming after you. You have to ignore this -"

"How can I ignore it?! They're lying about me!"

Budzinski raised both hands in a placating gesture. "I know, I know, but you've got to be the bigger man here and just let it slide." He shifted into Drive and started to pull away from the curb. "That's why I showed you this now… so you had time to digest it before we get to the office. Martin's gonna tell you the same thing I just did, so brace yourself. And for god's sake, keep your temper."

# # # # #

"You know the prosecution is going to use this against you during the trial if you respond to it in any way?" Pollard said patiently, tapping the tabloid lying on the table between them.

"Why would they do that?" Steve was having a hard time controlling his temper. "Not one word of this article is truth, it's all just lurid speculation. Hell, they even ask if my staying at Mike's might be because we're more than just partners. How the hell can they get away with crap like that?!"

"Because nothing they're printing is purported to be a 'fact', it's all just… as you say, lurid speculation. And as long as they stick to that, nobody can do anything about it. A 'free press' and all that."

"It's bullshit!"

"Yes, it is, but that's not going to make it go away."

"Then what is?"

Pollard glanced at Budzinski, who raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Us not only getting you off but having all the charges dismissed without prejudice. That'll shut 'em up, I guarantee it." Both the attorney and the investigator nodded. "So, in that regard, let's get back to work. It just so happens I have some news about our 'reenactment'. It's going to happen tomorrow."

"So soon? I thought you said maybe next week?"

"Or Thursday or Friday I said. And tomorrow's Thursday. So Charlie won't be picking you up at Mike's until just before the time you arrived at your place and found Linda's message on your answering machine. I've arranged for Sergeants Healey and Haseejian to be with us the entire time, as the investigating officers they can also be independent witnesses for us, and another pair of experienced eyes and ears, and they'll bring the unmarked car you were driving that night. We'll do everything in real time, or as close to real time as we can estimate. Obviously that period of time you were unconscious after she hit you has to be guessed at but we have a pretty good idea of the exact timeline."

Steve was nodding slowly. "I still have no idea of the route she took to get to the Bridge or the exact way we went after that." He shrugged helplessly.

"Don't worry about that. They found the area where she left you and where you found the LTD -"

"They did?" Steve sounded surprised.

Both Pollard and Budzinski nodded perfunctorily as if it was common knowledge. "We'll get you there. Charlie here is going to be our Nicole. He'll do all the driving and you'll lie in the back seat like you were when it happened… hopefully it'll jog something in your memory. And I'll play Mike."

Steve was still nodding but his gaze had unfocused. He looked at Pollard. "I thought you wanted to talk to him this week?"

The lawyer nodded. "I do want to talk to him, but it might not be this week. I want to see everything through your eyes first. Besides, I read what he told the sergeants about what happened to him at the garage and there really isn't much there; she got to him fast."

Swallowing heavily, the young detective nodded. "She sure did…" he whispered.

Pollard picked up a file folder that was lying near his elbow and slid it across the table towards his client. "I had my secretary type up the notes I made from the past few days. I want you to go over them, slowly, to make sure everything I wrote down is what you remember telling me. Make corrections if you have to. And please be accurate - it's what I am going to use to question you on the stand."

Steve nodded, his eyes on the folder, still steaming about the morning's disturbing development.

"And after that I'll have Charlie drive you home. It's going to be a very long day and night tomorrow, and I want to make sure all of us are on our game."