"Just hold still for a second…here…I got it…"
Steve winced, as Hank held the cold rag pressed against his cheekbone for a moment, providing some pain relief, before using it to wipe the rest of the dirt from the wound.
The involuntary crash onto the pavement had left his beige overcoat soaked, soiled with dirt and discolored from some of the flowers that had been in his path. Aside from a few sore muscles and no recollection of the few seconds he spent in blissful unconsciousness, the only obvious sign of the struggle had been a handful of scratches and a bruise forming on his cheekbone, something both Hank and he were hoping to prevent with a well-placed ice pack.
"I don't even know why you are worried about your partner finding out, Stephen Jacob. From what you tell me, he probably already knows. I am sure he's got a direct line to all the patrol cars in the area."
"It won't hurt to try. He's got enough things on his mind that he needs to worry about. I don't need to add to it."
Retrieving the rag to wash some of the blood off and replacing it with the ice pack once again, Hank chuckled as he turned around to walk over to the kitchen of his spacious apartment overlooking Market Street.
"Well, I have been known to perform miracles, but I don't know about that one, my friend. It's pretty swollen already. Along with the scratches, it'll turn into a colorful mess shortly. Better start thinking of excuses about what happened. For what it's worth though, thanks for taking one for the team. It wasn't until you went down that people stopped fighting. I am glad Darren and Max are okay. The officer said they might even be able to press charges against the four guys who attacked us."
Grunting, Steve leaned back against the white couch and stared at the ceiling up above, part of him angry about the latest predicament, the other one wondering if it wouldn't end up being a convenient way to get Hank to open up.
Sporting the beginning of a black eye himself, the bar owner returned with two glasses of water, and a small bottle of aspirin, setting them on the expensive glass table that was the centerpiece of the elaborately decorated living room.
"And you said they just attacked you without a reason?"
As he put the ice pack down for a moment, Steve graciously accepted a couple of pills and the glass of water, before leaning back again, keeping a close eye on Hank who'd sat down on the couch across from him.
"You and I both know the reason, my friend. See, they were standing on the corner when I got there to meet with the Insurance adjusters. I didn't think anything of it, matter of fact, I figured they'd put flowers down. But then they started to yell at me, calling me names and such. That began to draw a crowd, which seemed to only encourage them. By the time my insurance guys arrived, things were getting out of hand. I had Max, the younger of the two, rush to the nearby phone booth to call the police, and…well…thankfully you were to first one to arrive. You sure are a godsend to me."
Caught in the middle of swallowing a sip of water, Steve tried to keep his expression unreadable, sensing that Hank was preparing to continue where he left off the previous night, a direction he wasn't willing to go down after the way his morning had unfolded.
Noting his hesitation, Hank glanced down insecurely and played with the glass of water in his hands, nearly spilling some of it.
"How is the ehm…investigation coming along, Stephen Jacob. Can I ask?"
Steve nodded slowly and reached for the icepack again, more or less to keep his hands from fidgeting in light of the awkward situation.
"Well…we're exploring a couple different leads at the moment.", he said, keeping his explanation comfortably vague, "I was actually on my way to see you when the call from dispatch came in."
Hank's friendly smile quickly vanished when he said that, replaced by a worried frown.
"Somehow I think I won't like what you're about to say."
"Why didn't you mention anything about the insurance on the bar, and the life insurance policy on Barry? It puts you in a tight spot, Hank.", Steve pried sternly, deciding to cut to the chase.
"Wait…what? Why would you even think something like that? Of course, I didn't think about it at first. With everything that happened, all these people dead, Barry dead, my club destroyed...of course I wasn't thinking about that. Stephen Jacob, what's the matter with you guys?"
"Our job is to think about those kinds of things, Hank, especially given the circumstances. Your bar was having trouble making money, several of your bills are past due. Then this…unfortunate event comes around, making you the sole recipient of over a quarter million dollars. You tell me what that looks like."
For a moment, the other man fell completely silent, having a hard time digesting what was said. With his lips slightly opened, he muttered something Steve couldn't understand. Then, with a shuddered sigh, he shook his head in disbelief.
"Is this…because of what happened last night? Are you mad at me, Stephen Jacob? Or is it because I am gay?"
Having anticipated the cheap shot, Steve shook his head in determination, then gestured toward a black-and-white picture of Barry hanging at the nearby wall.
"Aw, come on now, Hank! This has nothing to do with being mad. Or with you being gay, for that matter. It has everything to do with diligent detective work. That kind of money, combined with a struggling business and possibly even relationship troubles would be an excellent motive for a crime of passion, cleverly disguised as a hate crime to get everybody's minds off you. Now all I want to know is why you didn't tell us about that money right from the beginning. And Hank, it better be a good answer, otherwise I will forget that I ever even knew you before this happened, and I will personally tear this place apart piece by piece, until I have my answers."