I won't lie. I shamelessly relish humanizing our characters as much as possible. They are, after all, regular human beings working an incredibly tough job, being subject to pressure and trauma few can only imagine. Yet, they go home each night trying to navigate through regular life as best as possible. They get moody. They get tired. They have bad days. They get scared. Heck, they even make mistakes. It's what makes them so relatable. So, forgive me if I got a little sidetracked on the subject here. The murders won't stop, but every once in a while, we gotta look at the face behind that gold star and ask some uncomfortable questions.

PSS. What's keeping me from posting more stories faster is that I can't think of titles. I suck at titles. Literally, all my stories are numbered. Makes it easier to remember where in the chain of events they are. So yeah, I apologize in advance.

Characters: Mike, Steve, Jeanie, Haley, Hassejian, Bernie, Tanner

Season: 4

"How about another slice of apple pie?"

As if working as a waitress to help pay for her tuition back in Tuscan was beginning to wear off, Jeanie carried a tray of warm, and incredibly delicious goodness around Mike's living room, trying to lure the two detectives into a sugar and calorie-laden coma.

Rubbing his stuffed belly and symbolically opening up another button on his red dress shirt, Steve shook his head with a smile.

"I can't eat another bite, I swear. Thank you, Jean, that was one of the best meals I've ever had. That turkey was delicious, and those potatoes…wow."

"Somebody has got to make sure you two eat a decent meal at least once a year.", Jeanie countered flippantly and moved over to her father, who was sitting in his rocking chair across from the young Inspector.

With a warm smile, Mike shook his head, clearly enjoying the company of his daughter and best friend on the sole holiday both detectives would be off this year.

"She must have inherited the cooking gene from her mother, definitely not me.", the Lieutenant giggled, as Jeanie returned to the kitchen to do the dishes, having ordered for both men to stay in the living room and relax for once.

"And thankfully so, or we would have been stuck eating hot dogs and chili for Thanksgiving."

Throwing his partner an angry glare he couldn't keep up long enough to stop it from turning into a grin, Mike shook his head before helping himself to another sip of beer. Across from him, stretched out on the lime green living room couch, Steve yawned, relishing the warmth from the hearty meal and loving atmosphere reaching all the way to his soul.

The three musketeers, Mike had called them on this special day, referring to the fact that this year, it would be the first time in six years he'd spend Thanksgiving with what family he had left; for college, busy schedules or a heavy case load had prevented the three of them to be together before.

As his busy mind calmed with each sip of beer he drank, Mike relished in the memory of first meeting Steve a couple years after Helen passed away. Torn between adjusting to life as a single parent and widower raising a teenage daughter, newly separated from his partner who'd decided to accept the promotion they'd both been offered to climb up the brass ladder, the seasoned Lieutenant was feeling painfully alone, heartbroken and bitter.

Yet, as fate would have it, he ended up partnering with the charismatic young man who refused to allow the demons of his own past to harden his soul, and instead transformed them into gentle kindness wherever he went; a coping mechanism so powerful that it had ripped Mike out of his deep, grief-laden depression and back to enjoying life to the fullest, even without his beloved wife by his side.

After recently becoming single again when things with Eric had turned sour back in Arizona, Jeanie never hesitated to buy a bus ticket back home on a short notice, spending an entire afternoon grocery shopping for the holidays and put on a feast that could feed a family of eight.

And here they were, all three of them cherishing some much-needed quiet time with those they loved the most.

It made Mike's heart beam in fatherly pride.

Half asleep and yet completely aware of his partner sitting across from him, Steve's relaxed features turned somber for a moment, as he peeked one eye open to look over at Mike.

"That Hendricks/Johnson case still bugging you?"

Mirroring the serious expression, Mike nodded, appreciating and cursing the young Inspector's uncanny ability to read his mind like an open book.

"Mhm hm. Thirty-two years on the force; was going to retire next spring. Gets into a shootout with the wrong person and gets killed, and now the press is making him look like a racist cop singling out blacks to feed his agenda. They never bothered to look at Jeremy's impeccable work record and the many lives he saved during his career, the charities he was part of…just like that, a lifetime of doing the right thing is being flushed down the toilet. The legacy of a dead man, against the word of a thug. And who do you think they believe?"

"How long did you know him?"

"Almost my entire career. He was my mentor for a while, when I first started to walk the beat. Everybody knew him, he was well respected. And he was gentle, always smiling, always trying to help others."

Mike stopped when the bitterness overcame his words, lowering his voice to a disappointed growl that wasn't left unnoticed by his partner.

"Why do you suppose Jeremy Hendricks didn't call for backup that night?", the young Inspector asked innocently and gave up his sprawled-out position on the couch to reach for his beer, never glancing up to meet his partner's eyes, offering privacy when it came the sensitive topic in the only manner he knew.

Beyond the clanking of dishes being washed in the kitchen, Mike grunted, his bright blue eyes staring at something in the carpeting, his mind drifting to a different place altogether.

"Jeremy knew that some things would be easier solved without a bunch of black-and-whites present. He was a caring soul, trying to help people stay out of jail whenever possible, talking them out of committing crimes. They say he caught Darius Johnson in the middle of robbing a fine jewelry store and that the fatal shootout was in self-defense, and yet Jeremy's bullet was found in the ceiling of the show room, whereas Johnson's hit him straight in the heart."

"I saw that on the report on Haseejian's desk.", Steve noted and leaned back against the couch, hands clasped behind his head, "Johnson shot first, Hendricks didn't have enough time to react, the shot out of his gun went off as he was going down."

"Exactly. It was blatant murder. My guess is Jeremy tried to reason with him, asking Johnson to surrender and turn himself in to stay safe. That's just the kind of guy he was. Had he called in backup, there would have undoubtedly been a shootout with a much direr outcome for Johnson."

"And without Hendricks or any backup around to testify otherwise, Johnson's claims that Jeremy surprised him during the robbery, called him derogatory names and threatened to kill him just got him out of a Murder 1 charge and downgraded to armed robbery. Not to mention the fact that the media loves this sort of smear campaign."

"I tried to talk him into retirement a couple years ago.", Mike admitted, his lip quivering as he recalled the passion in Jeremy's eyes when he defended staying on the force for a few more months, saying his mission wasn't completely fulfilled yet, "I wish I would have tried harder. I'd have rather seen him play chess at Lafayette Park than having to visit his grave now; and deal with the horrible things being said about him by these…careless people tarnishing my friend's name."

They both fell quiet for a moment when Jeanie came back into the living room to trade their empty beer bottles for a refill, even adding a bowl of homemade cookies, trying so incredibly hard to bring cheer to the DeHaro house.

As if to notice the conversation they were trying to keep from her, protecting her soul from the vile reality that every police officer was in danger of experiencing, she smiled insecurely, before returning to the kitchen to make some coffee.

"What about you, Michael?", Steve asked once Jean was out of earshot, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he looked up at his best friend like a puppy who'd chewed up a shoe, "Are you drawing parallels to Jeremy's fate? You're not that far away from retirement and earning a well-deserved pension yourself."

For once, the Lieutenant's reaction wasn't quite what he had expected.

"Look at you. Barely six years on the force and you're already competing for my office, aren't you?"

Mike's off-the-cuff remark made them both chuckle awkwardly for a moment, the truth about Steve's insight into his friend's emotional state hanging heavily between them, despite the make-belief atmosphere of lightheartedness.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me retiring for a long time, Buddyboy. There's still a lot for you to learn from an experienced old dog such as myself."

With a cheeky smile, Steve reached forward to open the next bottle of beer and grab a handful of chocolate chip cookies. When he glanced back up, his warm and gentle eyes glistened against the light from the nearby desk lamp.

"I'd love that very much."