"You're the only person I know who can eat an egg salad sandwich with hot sauce for dinner."

A deeply-missed joyfulness had returned to Mike's voice as they finished the last bites of their food, sharing a couple beers over at Frankie's, a recently opened hole-in -the-wall family restaurant close to Union Street.

This late in the day, the two detectives were some of the last patrons left, as the waitstaff began to clear tables and wash floors in preparation for closing time.

"Well, you're the only person I know who eats chili for breakfast.", Steve countered flippantly and washed the last of his sandwich down with a big gulp of beer.

"Chili…chili is reinvigorating.", Mike began, causing his young partner to raise his eyebrows at the unusual choice of words, "There's nothing better to start your day out with than a hot bowl of chili. And onions of course, can't forget about those."

"Yeah, there' no denying that. I can always tell when you've had chili. How about we compromise? You like to start your day out with chili; I like to finish mine with hot sauce. Always warms the tummy."

Symbolically patting his belly, Steve finished his beer, and gestured for the bartender to get them another round

"I bet you that's putting some nice holes into your insides as well. You've been complaining about upset stomach for the past few weeks, maybe this…strange diet is giving you an ulcer."

In response to the excessive mother-henning, Steve rolled his eyes, then leaned back for the bartender to clear their dishes and empty bottles, before replacing them with a fresh round.

"My insides are the last thing you ought to worry about. I am not the one who got beat to a pulp at the cemetery.", the young Inspector shot back, his attempts at hiding the grave concern about his partner's well-being failing miserably.

Unable to refute the argument, the Lieutenant sipped on his beer, tired eyes drifting across at the assortment of liquor bottles at the other end of the bar.

"Well, for what it's worth, I am glad they caught the thugs. When I talked to Gerry, he said that he'd be going for the attempted murder charge due to the severity of the attack. I am having Doctor Ford send the ER report over to him this week yet. Hopefully that'll put a damper on those...those unprovoked attacks on police officers for a while. Oh, and I did send a letter of recommendation to the Chief for Sergeant Andrew's quick action on this case and the bravery he showed by apprehending not one, but four dangerous suspects by himself. I am surprised you didn't hear about that when you returned to the office that night. What kind of research were you doing there anyway?"

Steve choked on his beer as he said that, needing several attempts to catch his breath.

"Are you going to be ok, Buddyboy?"

With a faint smile, Mike patted his back until the young Inspector regained his composure and glanced over at him sheepishly.

"I must have been…well…my mind was on our case. And being worried about you. And like I said, I was only there for a little while, going over the witness statements again, seeing if there was anything we'd missed. Sounds like this went down long after I left.", he lied between a final coughing spell, and played with the beer bottle in his hands.

"Really?", Mike countered facetiously, leaving his arm draped across his best friend's shoulders, "Here, I was worried that you had put in a long night when you didn't sign the Galaxy back out until 3am according to the attendant downstairs."

Pursing his lips and holding onto the bottle neck with a death grip, Steve stared straight ahead, unwilling to make eye contact for fear of unveiling anything that could upset his cloak of total innocence and utter denial.

"Help me out here, Buddyboy. You know which sheet I mean, don't you? The ehm…the one I have to sign off on for the department each week. The ehm…the vehicle log. Looked like Haley, Haseejian, Tanner and Lessing also made it a late night. Kind of surprising, considering their light caseload."

Enjoying every last minute of the awkward situation he'd dragged Steve into, Mike watched the young Inspector return the beer bottle to his lips and take four big gulps, then sigh dreadfully.

"Monty, you mean? From downstairs? He's got pretty bad handwriting. I signed it out at 9 that night. I suppose with his shaky hands it's easy to have a nine look like a three. And a…an A like a P. Something like that, I guess. It was pretty busy downstairs that evening. Not sure what Norm and the crew were up to though."

"Mhm hm.", Mike countered, a faint smile spreading across his lips as he squeezed his partner's shoulders, then helped himself to more beer.

"Say, it sounded like you and Marietti were talking about the war?"

The young Inspector's change of topic was a cunning curveball to take the attention of his person, and it seemed to work when the red streaks rising on the side of his neck vanished as fast as they'd appeared.

"Yeah, we did…"

Nodding in appreciation when the bartender brought them a bowl of peanuts, Mike grabbed a fistful, absent-mindedly playing with the extra napkin by his hand.

As he stared at his fedora, peacefully resting on the edge of the bar, his mind drifted back to the conversation at Marietti's place his partner hadn't been part of, and quite possibly wouldn't grasp the depth thereof even if he had been.

"We talked about how the constant battles affect the way you look at life. Our…need to protect others while trying to stay alive in this constant chaos. And how the many civilian casualties in Vietnam dampened his…his motivation to keep on going, to…you know…keep on fighting."

Listening intently, Steve took several more sips of beer, the anxiety boiling within causing him to nearly empty his brand-new bottle, the alcohol quickly turning his eyes glassy.

"What about you, Michael? Are you going to keep on fighting?"

The Lieutenant drew in a deep breath, the question that seemed so unassuming and yet was anything but causing his heart to ache. If there truly was a yes or no answer, it seemed entirely out of his reach that night.

"I wish it was that simple, Buddyboy. Times are changing. And not for the better. I have to worry about more than just myself. There's a bigger picture here, a lot more things are at stake."

Apparently it wasn't the answer he'd hoped for when Steve resumed his one-person drinking contest, then slammed the empty bottle on the bar a little too violently.

"Worrying like that…it's like a monkey wrench in your head. You taught me that years ago. It makes you lose focus. Not pay attention when you should. It can get you killed. You've been fretting about the Hendrick's murder since before Thanksgiving. I've never seen you so doubtful."

"And maybe you are right.", Mike huffed agitatedly and clenched his jaws, trying to consider his partner's concerning level of intoxication before answering, "But maybe you ought to think about Jeremy's family for a second. What Pam is going through. What any family left behind is going through when an officer of the law gets brutally gunned down. And to see…to see the killer get off with a slap on the wrist. Well I just…I can't fathom putting Jeanie through something like that…or you. Not when times are changing and the media is encouraging this police hating agenda that has poisoned this city. You gotta remember that I am not your age anymore. I don't bounce back the way I used to any longer, this…this beating has made that painfully obvious. And as much as I love my job, I have to ask myself if it's worth taking the risk of getting gunned down so close to retirement."

Grunting in frustration, Steve got up and reached for his gray dress coat, swaying slightly as he threw a ten-dollar bill on the bar to cover their drinks, along with an unusually generous tip Mike knew he couldn't afford. With his cheeks flushed and lips pursed to a thin line, he dug the car keys out of his pant pocket and tossed them into his partner's lap.

"There's only one thing you gotta ask yourself Michael, and it's the same question all of us have to answer for ourselves. It's the most important one in our chosen line of work, and you helped me answer it years ago. And if you weren't so busy sitting here hashing out all the what if's and what not's over this Hendrick's case, it would be clear as day. These…these ten bucks right here cover another beer for you, so why don't you spend some time thinking long and hard about why you put on that badge each and every day and why you're out on the streets doing what you are doing. And most importantly, why you should- under no circumstance- let one bad case destroy the impact you have had on this city and everybody who works with you. 'Cause I am growing tired of pointing out the obvious. For a guy who selflessly took me under his wing and taught me years ago what it means to be a damn good cop, who downright demanded I devote as much of my life to this profession as he does, who relentlessly raised the bar on his expectation of what it means to serve and protect this city and every person living here, a guy I admire for his fierce determination and sincere love for his job…for…for a guy like that you sure are eager to throw in the towel these days. So, how about you remember some of those lessons and practice what you preach. I'll walk home from here. See you in the morning."