After a long shower and thorough shave, Steve had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, as he went through his large sized closet for the third time that evening to pick out the best suit for tomorrow.

Torn between the black designer suit, white dress shirt paired with a red tie, or the light gray three-piece one with the purple and blue checkered tie, he opted to pull both out and lay them onto the back of his couch, hoping that he'd come to a decision after some well-deserved dinner.

Reaching for the peanuts from a jar sitting on his counter top, he was headed for the refrigerator, when a knock on the door stopped him in his tracks. Glancing up at the clock on his wall, Steve frowned, wondering what would bring Mike back to his apartment that close to midnight.

Walking over to his front door, Steve was surprised to find a smiling Lenny staring back at him.

"What are you doing here?", he asked brusquely, annoyed that the nosey Psychiatrists would dare to disrupt the sanctity of his privacy.

"Still in a bad mood, I see. I don't think I have ever seen you in just jeans and a t-shirt. I hardly recognize you.", Lenny answered unaffected before brushing past him and entering the apartment, "I came here to apologize actually."

Raising his eyebrows, Steve closed the front door again before following the Psychiatrist into his living room, where his guest eagerly took in his sparsely furnished apartment, the bare kitchen and his two overfilled bookshelves.

"Why couldn't this wait until tomorrow?", Steve tried again when Lenny stopped at the two suits he had laid out on the dark green couch.

"You always dress up like that for the dentist? What kind of dentist is this?"

Sighing in annoyance, Steve walked over to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer, before handing one to Lenny.

"Is this going to help you get to the point?"

Accepting the cold beverage, the Psychiatrist sat down on one of his two wooden barstools by the kitchen cabinet and took a long sip, before clearing his throat.

"I came to apologize because I forgot to tell you something the other day. It didn't hit me until this afternoon and I think it's important for you guys to know… See, this CPZ can be used as a sedative but I double checked some findings with Bernie and I think your killer is using it more of a means to sway people. See, the doses given would affect mental patients differently than, well, sane people. Mental patients will become subdued, sleepy, more rational. In sane people, this drug can cause hallucinations, panic attacks, paranoia and strong feelings of insecurity."

"You mean he is using the CPZ to create a drug induced Stockholm Syndrome?"

Taking a couple sips of beer and enjoying the cold liquid coating his throat, Steve leaned against the counter, absent-mindedly picking on the label of the bottle.

"It's quite possible. Even if the effects vary per person, it would still cause our victims to be in some form of anxiety driven state, looking for safety. If he…or she…is bent enough, it could give your killer an emotional high and a strong feeling of superiority, if they can get their victims to believe that they are their savior, so to speak."

"Could be that our killer has some misguided maternal feelings…or she enjoys otherwise strong males being put into a position of vulnerability and needing her help."

Lenny nodded and took another sip, before helping himself to some of the peanuts.

"That's quite conceivable. Although it doesn't help you narrow down your suspect by much. I eh…I went through some of my other files, seeing if I had a candidate that might fit our profile, but not much so far. I do remember from Albert's file though that he was searching for attention, even affection so desperately that he could be easily swayed, meaning your actual killer might use these traits to motivate him to find and kidnap victims."

Steve let out a frustrated breath and glanced back up at the Psychiatrist.

"I think you're right. But you could have just left a message with one of the guys in the office and I could have called you back tomorrow. You didn't need to drive clear across town to tell me in person."

"Maybe I wanted to talk to you in person though.", Lenny countered, causing him to freeze in his spot.

"Mike set you up to this, didn't he? This is about me losing our suspect."

Raising his hands defensively, Lenny shook his head before sipping on his beer again.

"Not at all. This has nothing to do with Mike. He doesn't even know I am here. No…this has everything to do with you. And me worrying about you as my friend."

Steve pursed his lips and looked away, unwilling to spend an evening before an eventful morning discussing life choices with the Psychiatrist. Noting his quietness, Lenny pointed at the two suits before smiling faintly.

"You disguised things well. Took me a bit to figure you out on that one. All that irritability, standoffishness, going around the Records department and pollinating every flower that crosses your path to offset the anxiety that's eating you up inside because every time you're with your partner, you have to put on a brave face and pretend that everything is ok. And at first, I couldn't figure out why you were keeping Mike out of this but it quickly became evident that there could only be one reason, only one thing bothering you so much to cause your spiraling behavior pattern. You're not a liar by nature and I could tell from Mike's reaction that you've been keeping a lot from him, that there was a direct correlation between your behavior and those lies. So I thought I'd swing by and ask what made you decide to quit the force?"

Steve flinched when Lenny said out loud what had been consuming his every thought for the past few weeks. Looking up at the beer bottle shaking in his hand, he decided to set it down before releasing a shuddered breath. Turning back into Psychiatrist mode, Lenny stayed perfectly still, his body language guarded and non-threatening, his brown eyes scanning him intently.

Glancing over to the other side of his kitchen counter, where his revolver, badge, handcuffs and ammo were stacked into a neat pile, Steve swallowed hard when he felt himself beginning to shake.

"I can't…I can't forget their faces any longer, Lenny. The people I…I shot and killed. Every time I strap on that revolver, I see their faces in front of my eyes. At night…I can't sleep because I go over every single incident in my head, seeing if there could have been a different outcome, something I could have done to prevent their deaths. When I unholster my gun…", Steve hesitated when his voice was beginning to tremble, the only noise in the otherwise quiet room beside his rapid panting, "When I unholster my gun, I break out in a cold sweat because I am terrified that I might hesitate too long and not take that shot when I should and…and get Mike hurt or…or even worse…"

"Come here, kiddo. You're starting to hyperventilate. You need to calm down."

Lenny had long slipped off the bar chair, his hand appearing on Steve's upper arm and gently guided him over to the couch, allowing for both of them to sit down and relax.

"Just focus on deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths. And then try to look at things from a clinical perspective for a moment…"

Sitting down on the couch, Steve felt his entire body tremble, the pressure of concealing the heartbreaking truth from the person most important in his life reaching a point where his reserves for theatre-worthy make-belief had been exhausted.

"How am I supposed to…to tell Mike that I can't kill any longer? That it's compromising my sleep, my...my sanity. That after all these years I can't do my job anymore…"

"Don't worry about Mike right now, let's…let's talk this thing through for a minute, nice and slow…", Lenny countered and put his feet on the nearby side table, trying to create a false sense of quietness and comfort, "Try to look at your situation from a neutral perspective for a moment. This didn't happen overnight. So what triggered it? When did you start having those nightmares?"

Leaning heavily against the couch, Steve tilted his head back to stare at the white ceiling above.

"About eight months ago. After the Matthew Rueger case."

Lenny grunted in understanding, before mimicking his position.

"There ehm…there was a shootout, wasn't there? You ended up killing the two suspects. They were young kids too, very, very troubled and dangerous young kids."

"Mhm hm. Sixteen and seventeen. They were holding Mike and a young girl captive. They threatened to kill him if they didn't receive the money and a getaway car. I was able to sneak into the house through the basement window, encountered heavy firepower and…I returned fire. Killed them both on the spot."

"Of course, you do know you did the right thing.", Lenny continued deep in thought and shook his head, "But that won't erase the trauma you went through. I bet you didn't even encounter half the number of shootings during your time in Patrols and Vice that you've been involved in since switching to Homicide."

"No doubt about that…"

As his breathing was beginning to slow down, Steve felt a strange sense of relief washing over him, as if telling somebody of his problems had taken an enormous weight off his shoulders.

And his weary soul.

Lenny fell quiet for a long while, his eyes focused on the book shelves ahead, as if he was struggling to come up with the right words.

"You experienced what we refer to in Psychology as a trigger event. This shooting triggered your memory to resort back to a traumatic event that pushed you into a severe fight-or-flight reflex. The way our brain processes these situations varies greatly from one person to another. And sometimes, the trauma is so severe that it puts your body into a state of shock, similar to a shock from physical injury. And in both cases, the body lowers all non-vital functions, including brain function and then elevates your heart rate, blood pressure and adrenal output which in turn floods your system with cortisol, or as people normally call it, stress hormones. There's a theory out there that in this case, due to low brain function, the severe traumatic event witnessed gets filed away in your short-term memory, not your long-term memory and in doing so, it puts the body into a constant state of stress and shock. Your body literally cannot move on from the event, it's stuck in a loop. Because of that, anything related to the event, even if you can't remember it because your mind blanked out…any small detail will become a trigger and put you right back into that severely stressed state. In your case, those kids may have been the trigger, but the actual damage happened a long time ago, whether you were aware of it at that time or not. But now, because of that case, any encounter with an armed suspect or a situation that forces you to pull your gun could become a trigger. It could even be that the physical act of touching your trigger is…in fact your trigger."

Running a hand across his face, Steve took a deep breath, for the first time feeling as though there wasn't a rope tied around his neck threatening to choke him.

"There're a handful of therapies that can help with triggers and ease the severity of your anxiety attacks. If this was anybody else but you, I'd show them some breathing techniques to help them relax and I would put them on some medication to lower their blood pressure and help them sleep at night. My recommendation would be to find ways to avoid those triggers.", Lenny sighed sorrowfully, before reaching over and patting his knee, "But unfortunately, the very essence of your job is your trigger, Kiddo."

Steve nodded slowly, feeling a single tear rolling down his cheek before disappearing underneath his jawline, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"I don't know how to tell Mike. Or what to tell him. This partnership…his friendship is the best thing that's ever happened to me. But I am terrified that my issues will get him hurt or killed. And I…I can't live with that fear any longer. It's killing me."

"I understand. I truly do."

Lenny's features softened, as the Psychiatrist glanced over at him, his warm brown eyes full of grief.

"Mike cares deeply about you. When that time comes…when you're ready to tell him, I am sure he'll understand. But you really gotta tell him. Don't leave him in the dark about something as important as this."

"I've tried…", Steve admitted begrudgingly, before getting up to pour himself a glass of water, "I've tried to tell him for a couple of years now that it's…that it's getting harder and harder to pull that trigger. He blew me off each time, giving me that speech that I need to hold on…you know…that the city needs me, what a great cop I am and so on. Well, right now I am his biggest liability and he won't listen to me when I tell him that…"

"Mike's being his usual stubborn self, I see. He doesn't realize that it won't do the city much good if you get shot and killed because you're triggered out of your damn mind…", Lenny retorted angrily and got up to join him back in the kitchen, "So…eh…what's the plan from here on out, kiddo? Who are you interviewing with tomorrow?"

When his eyes shot up at the Psychiatrist, Lenny smiled.

"Come on now, did you really think I'd buy that whole dentist appointment nonsense? Who are you seeing?"

Returning the smile for once, Steve opened up his silverware drawer, surfacing the letter he received a couple of weeks ago.

"Berkeley…", the Psychiatrist noted with raised eyebrows when he studied the envelope header, "My, my…getting back to your roots. Let's see here…Dear Mister Keller, I once again wanted to take the opportunity to offer you a teaching position in the Criminal Investigation Department of our state-of-the-art faculty. As I mentioned before…blah blah blah…I would be delighted to offer you a tour to view the campus and its teaching facilities at your convenience. I understand that you are quite busy…blah blah…we are excited to offer you the Associate Professor position…nice, very nice…with your private secretary, paid on-campus apartment, free tuition for any classes furthering your degree, healthcare, generous pension…thirty-five thousand Dollars a year starting salary? Stephen, how in the world can you not accept that? You'll never make that kind of money in the police force. They are serious about recruiting you."

"They've been trying for a couple of years…", Steve answered with a wily grin before trading his glass of water for another sip of beer, "The salary and benefits have gone up each year."

"No wonder you had the springtime hornies…"

"The what?"

"Never mind…", Lenny said curtly before handing the letter back, "Steve, this is an incredible offer. You gotta take it. Don't take this the wrong way, I am going to miss working with you, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. That's the best thing that could have possibly happened to you under the circumstances."

"Except I have to give up the best thing that has happened to me in order to take that job. I am still thinking about it Lenny, I haven't made my final decision yet. And even if I accept, I won't start until the fall semester begins in September."

Both men fell quiet for a long time, before Lenny walked up to him and put a firm hand on his shoulder; firm enough that Steve could feel him shake slightly beneath the touch.

"Let me tell you one thing as your friend and staff psychologist…these problems you are having now are only going to become compounded. I can give you meds to help you sleep better but it won't take the triggers away. Or the nightmares. Or the flashbacks. This isn't something you can take pills for or talk through with a buddy and it isn't something that'll ever go away, in fact, your current and future experiences will only add to the pile of problems. The only way to function with it is to learn how to handle the past, stop adding negative experiences and remove the source of the triggers…I guess what I am trying to say is, don't spend too much time hesitating about this decision when you know in your heart that it's the right thing to do. And don't let Mike guilt-trip you into staying for the city's sake or any of that nonsense. Stephen, just…please don't wait until it's too late."

Well, this sure is a nice mess Steve has gotten himself into. When watching Thrill Killers, I never did understand Mike's reaction when even Dan suggested that Steve was shot because he froze and couldn't pull the trigger. I mean, come on man, you've seen him get worse and worse each time he has to make that call. This shouldn't have been a surprise at all. Now, I could have written that off as inconsistencies with different writers, but I chose to go a different route here. It's the route of denial. This story is actually part of a trilogy I had no intention of creating at the time. They're actually 3 individual stories that all have their own plot, but that also all tie into this situation, highlighting Steve's last few weeks on the force, his first few years at Berkeley and even a nice little tidbit after the fact.