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About two hours later at a little after 8pm, Roy appeared in the bullpen. Most of the men had gone home by then. Steve was just finalizing his reports when he caught a glimpse of Roy from the corner of his eye.
"Have a good evening, kiddo," he commented quietly as he walked past Steve's desk. Steve took it as a cue to make his exit for the evening as well, knowing that any option of hanging around would be awkward. Waiting a few minutes, Steve wrote a quick, vague note and left it on his desk before quietly grabbing his coat and making his exit. "Headed out for the evening. The finished report is in my desk drawer. See you tomorrow. Steve."
Roy tapped lightly on the frame of the office door.
"Roy, come on in," Mike said. His expression was unemotional as he sat reviewing the case notes for the umpteenth time.
"Heard you caught Gus's shooter, Mike," Roy stated matter-of-factly as he sat down on a guest chair.
"Yes, um…just wrapping everything up now and was about to call it a night. You're here awfully late…."
"I was waiting for you. Kind of figured you'd be wrapping things up now. I wanted to talk to you," Roy said as he felt eggshells under his feet.
"Can it wait, Roy? I think I just want to head out. It's been, well, it's been a really bad day," Mike conceded.
"That's why I'm here, Mike. I just want to be sure that you are okay and well, that you understand what could have happened today," Roy said as he asserted more.
Mike stopped his review for a brief moment, trying hard to restrain a kneejerk surging defensiveness bubbling to the top. The Stone glare tipped Roy, but the Robbery Lieutenant held his ground.
"What do you mean, Roy? We caught a murderer today, less than 48 hours after our victim was shot. Less than 12 hours, I might add, after our victim, a 30 year veteran cop died," Mike growled.
"Look Mike, you don't need to go on defense with me. It's Roy, remember? Your partner for several years. A guy who grew up on the streets right behind you."
Mike noticeably softened his expression.
"Mike, we can either do this in the office, one peer to another – or we can go out to Murphy's and have a couple of beers and talk. Friend to friend. Which is it?"
Mike thought for a second. He knew what was coming and after the way he had treated Roy over the last couple of days, figured he owed the man something. "I'll get my coat."
Murphy's was a long-standing drinking establishment a few blocks from Bryant Street. It was frequented by police, city officials and members of the district attorney's office, especially after a long day. There was an unwritten rule that what was said at Murphy's stayed at Murphy's.
They pair found a table near the back; Roy feeling a sense of déjà vu from earlier in the day. "Patrick, send us over a couple of Buds," Roy asked the bartender. Looking at Mike, he added, "Unless you want something stronger?"
Mike nodded in appreciation but declined. "No, a nice cold beer will do just fine."
After the beers arrived, Roy reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind?" he asked.
Mike shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.
"Mike, if I had been gunned down the way Gus was, I know you would have reacted the same way. And I have to say, I would have appreciated your sense of urgency in finding the perp who did it. It's you, your loyalty and your love of this department and this city that drives what you do. I'll never say that's not appreciated. But my friend, I am worried about you. I think about what could have happened out there and let's just say I am relieved that I am only mourning the loss of Gus. It could have been much worse."
There. It was out there and now all that was left was for Mike to respond.
Mike sat quietly, staring at his beer. He recognized the truth and he could feel his eyes begin to well.
"You are right, Roy. I….", Mike couldn't bring himself to say more, but Roy was decidedly patient as he took a drag from his cigarette.
Mike took a sip of his beer. "I…I couldn't let Gus's shooting go unsolved. The more time was lost, the less chance we'd find his killer. It was the least I could do for him."
"You felt like you owed it to Gus, didn't you?" Roy asked carefully.
"Of course, I did. Gus was my first partner, my closest friend for many years. We were brothers. Helen and Stell…they were best friends. When Jeannie was born, Gus and Stell were closer than Godparents. They were like her aunt and uncle….at least until I moved to Homicide."
"Mike, I was around during that time and I've always wondered about something. Did you feel guilty leaving Gus on the streets while you went to Bryant Street?"
Mike was shocked at the directness of the question. After all these years, it was something the two hadn't discussed, even during Roy's tenure in Homicide.
"Every day of my life. Not a single day went by where I didn't think of Gus in uniform. I mean every time I saw a uniform, I thought about where I came from." With a tremble in his voice, he added, "And who I left behind."
"Do you think Gus would have understood your guilt?"
"I think at the beginning, yes. He was hurt that he was passed over and he was hurt that I had left him. Over the years, time healed some of that, but not completely."
Roy nodded understandingly.
Mike continued, "Gus was Gus. He was the greatest street cop I ever knew. He and Stell were my rock during those years. From the time our days back in the Potrero to the war. You know we both lost our brothers. When I came back from Japan, we reconnected after Mass one day. We were both licking our wounds of our losses and what we saw. It was more than our brothers, Roy, although that loss should have been enough. It was us – our innocence. It was the things we saw over there that young guys like us never should have seen.
Then, I joined the force, like so many of the other guys coming back. Gus had been there a couple of years already and he showed me the ropes. When I think of all the calls. All the fights we broke up, the peace disturbances, the bums we helped get home after a hard night's drinking. There were car accidents and random injuries. Every day was something new. The only constant was Gus."
Mike wiped a tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry Mike. Is my cigarette bothering you?" Roy asked, knowing full well it wasn't.
"It's okay, Roy," Mike answered, once again appreciating the sensitivity that Roy was showing. "Did I ever tell you about the first call Gus and I handled?"
"No, Mike. But I'd like to hear about it."