About 90% done with winter prep on the farm and I just couldn't stay away for too long. Definitely ready for colder weather and slower days though. I may not update daily (partially because our internet on the farm has been compromised for a couple of weeks now) so I apologize in advance. If I leave you hanging, it mostly won't be by choice. This is a newer and relatively short story, no grand drama, just good old detective work. I hope you'll enjoy.

Wednesday morning.

And a quiet one at that.

For a job that required 6-day work weeks, 12-hr shifts that frequently turned into 24hrs, those quiet mornings without much going on besides research were a much-appreciated rarity.

Hopefully the temporary peace would last for a little while- at least as long as the switchboards remained reasonably subdued.

The elevator doors opened to the 4th floor of the Hall of Justice building, the directory ahead pointing to the left for Homicide and Missing Persons, to the right for some of the newly created sub-departments such as Detective Services, Crisis Response, Human Trafficking and Special Enforcement.

A new generation of City Council members along with overall nationwide changes had prompted a restructuring of the police force starting with the headquarters downtown, thus pushing more personnel from the massive 6-story complex on 3rd Street into the Hall of Justice Building that was already swelling with law enforcement personnel, the District Attorney's office as well as the Crime Lab, R&I and Coroner.

Part of the restructuring had involved the creation of additional Brass positions to oversee the ever-growing jurisdiction of the San Francisco Police Department, while another major change had been the addition of half a dozen sub-departments, putting significant strain on some of the existing branches due to interdepartmental personnel shifts.

Due to the nature of their work, Homicide had been largely spared of SFPD's growing pains aside from losing a storage closet to the newly established Crisis Response Squad. The biggest challenge had been the surge of traffic in the parking garage downstairs and a roughly 30% increase of people sharing the same floor, bathroom amenities and candy machines.

Many of the changes had been applauded by city leaders across all branches, allowing for processes to flow smoother, increased turnaround times on public requests…one might even argue that some cases were solved faster with additional manpower and fresh ideas from the new departments.

A massive hiring campaign had brought in almost sixty fresh-out-of-the-academy uniformed officers with a dozen or so detectives from other cities on the way to alleviate some of the staffing issues associated with the expansion.

Undoubtedly, regardless which side of the fence one was on about the restructuring process, it was a breath of fresh air for a vital piece of the city's infrastructure that rarely ever saw additional funding and support, much less appreciation.

With his maroon cowboy boots clattering against the terrazzo floor, the beige overcoat casually draped over his left shoulder, Steve made his way down the brightly lit hallway, cocking his head here and there at the familiar faces crossing his path this early in the morning.

Mike would be late, a weekly brass meeting keeping him away from his desk until at least ten. In other words, his morning would be spent continuing research on their current case.

As Steve passed the glass-walled vestibule and entered the empty bullpen of Office 450, an all too familiar sight made his heart leap.

With a broad smile, he sped up his pace, then carelessly dropped his overcoat on his office chair, before wrapping his visitor into a tight embrace.

"Beverly! How are you! Long time no see!"

Beverly Landau; a woman with a dark past, whose fighting spirit had not just amazed Steve early in his career, but also allowed the lady with too much class for her occupation to leave the gutters of prostitution behind and begin a new career path; one that would keep her away from drugs, violence and the county jail.

In a department that specialized in murders, hatred and destruction, Beverly was one of the handful of miraculous stories he'd been blessed to witness first-hand…and one Steve certainly never forgot.

Her dark hair was tied up in a neat bun, the immaculate make-up accentuating her pretty blue flower dress, hazel eyes wise beyond her years having lost the angry attitude and instead, grown warm and welcoming.

Beverly returned the hug and they both stood there for many long moments, holding onto each other, a wave of nostalgia flooding the bullpen at the rekindling of an unlikely friendship that started three short years ago.

Images of a 28- year old rookie cop with a cocky attitude and a prostitute bitter at the world reemerged in Steve's mind, a fateful night spent together at the Kennedy Motel that reeked of cigarette smoke and human filth, a shared passion for literature and their faint hope in the good of humanity despite their morose career paths.

As he slowly released the hug, Beverly reached over to kiss his cheek, coming close enough that her lips nearly touched his, a faint reminder of the thin line separating their friendship from turning into something more profound; something it was never destined to be, no matter how much they both craved it.

"Steve. I missed seeing your pretty face."

Her smokey voice warmed his heart and soul that morning as Steve returned the kiss, relishing in the sweet aroma of her perfume for a couple minutes too long, before awkwardly pulling back.

"Seems like it's been a busy couple years for both of us, doesn't it?"

Beverly nodded and glanced down, her delicate hands reaching for his as she squeezed them tightly.

"And yet some things seem like…like it was just yesterday. Especially the important things."

When he felt her hands trembling, Steve let go of the grasp and reached for her chin to lift her eyes back up.

"Something tells me this isn't a welfare visit. What happened, Beverly?"

"Nothing much, I promise. I…I just came from Sgt. Harris' office filing charges against some idiot who was causing a scene at the diner yesterday. Nothing happened. But I thought while I was here, I'd drop by and see you and Mike."

"Sergeant Harris? That's…that's assault and battery. Are you alright?"

His own fingers cupping her chin began to tremble and she reached up to grasp his hand, holding it tightly in hers again, gently massaging his palm.

"I am not hurt, please…try to relax. Like I said, nothing happened. He…he must have been drinking or something and caused a scene. And then he…he touched me inappropriately. That's all. It didn't even bruise."

"It doesn't have to.", Steve growled and shook his head furiously, "Mike is in a staff meeting until 10AM. As soon as he's out, we'll head down to see Armin and take a look at your case. Men who assault women turn into repeat offenders more often than not. Even if this was his first time doing it, he could come back and try it again. I don't want you getting hurt over interdepartmental slowdowns while we-"

Beverly's amicable chuckle stopped him mid-sentence, causing the young Inspector to raise his eyebrows curiously.

"The puppy-eyed, rookie cop has turned into a man. A protective one at that.", she said seductively, her smile showing a hint of sadness, "I can take care of my problems, but thank you, Steve. Like I said, I just came here to see you. How are things for you guys? How's Mike?"

Dropping the issue for now, albeit unwilling, Steve shrugged, torn between his role as a protector and the metaphysical energy that drew him toward Beverly, an attraction so strong that it put all his senses on high alert to keep her safe.

"We're okay. Just busy as usual. There's never a shortage of crime.", he began half-heartedly, wanting to cut this conversation short but deciding to continue when Beverly stared at him expecting more detail, "Michael just got back from a few days off. He spent most of it down in Arizona with Jeanie. I think it really helped him relax. The last few weeks have been…a bit stressful to say the least. He's been under a lot of pressure with all these changes going on around here."

With a slight nod, she reached up to play with the lapel of his grey dress coat, before resting her palms on his chest.

"What about you, Steve? How are you doing? You've changed quite a bit. I like the longer hair…the youthful defiance that comes with it, setting you apart from the others in this building…it highlights how different you are. Just like Mike said."

"I'm fine.", he returned matter-of-factly, not sure how else to answer the question and admittingly uncomfortable with the direction it was headed; a deep analysis of the past few years and how they'd changed him.

This early in the morning and after a painful hiatus of their friendship, intentional or not, Steve wasn't ready to bare his heart or face those demons in front of Beverly quite yet. Instead, he glanced back at her in guarded neutrality, fully aware of the caring eyes searching his for the truth.

As if to sense his walls of professional distance slowly building, Beverly nodded with unmasked disappointment and pulled her hands off him to reach for her purse.

"Well I guess…I am…I am glad to hear that. Be sure to tell Mike I said Hi.", she said hurriedly, a hint of sorrow in her voice as brushed past him, then hesitated to turn around once more, "Steve…I just wish those three years on the job in this…this rough environment wouldn't have stolen all that sweet innocence and warmth from of your eyes."