The hustle and bustle in the bullpen was in full swing when Steve arrived shortly after seven, bearing a bag of chocolate muffins and a plethora of bad gut-feelings.

After Hank left, he'd spent an hour pacing his apartment, doing busywork to calm down his raging thoughts. So many things were clouding his mind as years of professional experience paired with logic and reading the cards as they fell, as Mike would say, all came together, forming a disturbing picture he wasn't quite ready to see, much less share with his best friend.

Deeply engrossed in his brooding, Steve cocked his head at Tanner, Sekulovich, then Hassejian, before proceeding to his desk, stealing a glance up at his partner's office, thankful to see him with his back toward the bullpen, in the middle of a phone call.

Putting down the package of sugar-laden breakfast treats, he sighed heavily, almost feeling the piece of paper in the breast pocket of his dark blue dress shirt weighing down his soul. As he stripped out of his jacket and dress coat, Steve checked Forester's corner, surprised to see that the Captain wasn't at his desk, although he could practically sense his presence somewhere in the large Hall of Justice building.

"Look who got up extra early to join us."

Regardless of the soothing voice, Mike's genial greeting startled him, making him once again appreciate the Lieutenant's uncanny ability to sneak up on people like a rice paper ninja. With a warm smile, he put a hand on Steve's shoulder, the other one holding his favorite coffee cup.

"I would have been here sooner but I stopped at the bakery. Thought it'd be good to keep something in our stomach depending on how long of a day this will turn into."

"Uhhh. What'd you get? Sinkers or Muffins?"

"Muffins."

The attempt at spreading some cheer despite their morbid case was sincerely appreciated, making Steve's heart ache even more at what he was about to propose. As such, it was no surprise that four years of intense partnership were plenty enough for Mike to sense his downtrodden mood, turning his cheerful smile into a worried frown.

"Your face has the words Hank Flick written all over it, Buddyboy."

Nodding slightly, Steve pointed his chin toward his partner's office.

"I wish that was the only issue. Can I talk to you for a second? I gotta show you something."

"Sure, sure."

As he led the way, Mike kept his partner in his peripheral vision, that astounding mind and all his senses cued on the young Inspector's every move, every expression or slight blink of the eye, down to the varying cadence of his steps.

As they arrived, Steve closed the door behind them and inhaled deeply, keeping his gaze on Mike's mountain of paperwork for a moment, before summoning the strength to meet his eyes.

"Just how well do you know Riley Harris?"

With his brows raised, the Lieutenant put down his coffee cup, before leaning against the window sill, lips pursed deep in thought.

"Well…I guess…that depends on how you define that. I told you about our back story. He and I may not agree on everything he's doing but he's a genuinely kind man. Considering how his brother turned out, it seemed to me that he was trying his entire life to make things right with society…why are you asking?"

Feeling as though the breath had gotten stuck in his throat, Steve surfaced the folded up piece of paper from the evening prior, that seemingly harmless note that caused yet another sleepless night.

"Riley was passing these out at Barry's funeral yesterday. By the sound of some of the attendees I talked to, he did the same thing at three other funerals too. Take a read and let me know what you think of this…"

Mike accepted the paper hesitantly, eyes narrowed to tight slats as he pulled the reading glasses out of the pocket of his red vest, his expression hardening as he skimmed over the text Steve was talking about.

"What's he doing? Trying to hire a militia?"

"That's what this seems like to me. I had a stern talk with Hank about it, told him we were going to put the brakes on it right away."

With a satisfied nod, Mike lowered the paper, his eyes looking at more than just the printed text, as he fell quiet.

"What was Hank doing at your apartment again anyway? I thought you had put your foot down when it comes to professional distance and all that."

"Believe me, Hank is the least of my problems...", the rushed words had piqued Mike's interest, as the Lieutenant raised his head once again, blue eyes piercing those of his partner with great curiosity, "There's just something I was thinking about last night. I just…I couldn't get it out of my head. And it worries me."

Biting his lip for a moment of apprehensive pondering, Mike eventually tried to smile but failed, as he dropped the letter onto his desk.

"You think that Riley is the one who hired this killer."

Steve felt all the color drain from his face when his partner vocalized what had been on his mind all night. With a mixture of relief and certainty, he nodded faintly.

"I am sorry that this is happening to one of your friends, but it makes too much sense, Michael. All along we've established that Hank had a great motive for this killing spree, however, Riley has a great one too. A presumed anti-gay attack would raise public sympathy for homosexuals and help further his mission for equal rights. It would put the limelight right back at same-sex marriage and adoption rights, raising awareness for the humanity behind his quest. And even better, by attacking Hank and Barry's, he just got rid of the only other gay-owned bar in a seven-block radius…I checked that out myself this morning before I came in. It would be natural for us to suspect Hank, especially once the insurance payment concern came up. We wouldn't begin to suspect Riley, after all, he's been nothing but helpful when it came to our investigation, and now he's supposedly ready to protect the neighborhood hiring some soldiers of fortune. He's just done a…a fine job blinding you via a cloak of false pretenses and…and friendship. Like I said…I'm sorry. I really am. But it makes too much sense."

With a tormented sigh, Mike reached forward to grab the nape of his partner's neck, shaking him slightly before drawing in a deep breath.

"It's a valid concern, Buddyboy. And as much as I hope that you're wrong, I do want you to get with R&I and see what all they can dig up on him, especially his bank accounts. If anything looks strange, we're going to pay him a visit and you better believe I'll be the one slapping on those cuffs."

With a rushed nod, Steve turned around on his heels, heading out the door to get to work.

Unbeknownst to him, Mike remained in the same spot for many long moments, torn between the anger of betrayal and his heart breaking at the thought of a friendship that was about to end in the worst way possible.