"What?' Mike looked at Devitt, his mouth slightly open, and shook his head vaguely as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"It's yours," came a familiar voice from behind him, and Mike turned sharply to see Evans and Garabaldi, both of them grinning, step away from the shadow of the building front and saunter towards the San Francisco pair. Evans was holding out a set of car keys.

Mike's eyes flicked to the keys then he glanced at Garabaldi and Devitt before settling back on Evans. "What are you talking about?" he asked softly.

"Well," Garabaldi started slowly, rocking on his heels, his hands in his pants pockets, "after… the accident… well, word got around that it was your personal car that you and Steve were driving and, ah, well, it sorta didn't seem fair to everybody that you lost your car… I mean, we're all cops, and we all know that if you use a personal car for police business and something happens to it… well, you're just shit outa luck as far as your insurance company is concerned… right?"

Mike was nodding slowly; this thought had occurred to him already but he wanted to keep his worry to himself until he had the chance to actually talk to his insurance rep.

"So," Evans took up the narrative, "well, Phil here thought he'd just… float a balloon, so to speak, and see if there was any interest in the department to start a fund that might be able to, well, help towards getting you another car, even a temporary one." He looked at his partner and smiled. "Well, turns out there was more than just a little interest… the brotherhood, you know… And it just so happened that the brother-in-law of one of our Robbery lieutenants owns a used car lot. So we told him what we were looking for and he said he had nothing appropriate on his lot at the moment but he started calling around and, ah…" He gestured towards the Monte Carlo. "He found this…"

As Evans had talked, Mike felt his heart begin to pound and a lump form at the back of his throat. He brought his right hand up to his mouth to tug at his lower lip, staring at the L.A. detective almost without blinking.

Garabaldi was looking at the car. He laughed suddenly, as if reading the San Francisco cop's mind. "I know it looks like Lonsdale's, but it's not. Weird coincidence, right? His is a '72 and he's put over 60 thousand on it already – this is a '71 and it only has 15 thousand." He chuckled. "It wasn't literally owned by The Little Old Lady From Pasadena but damn close. Her husband, actually, and he only drove it around Pasadena." He laughed, looking from Mike to Devitt and back. "I kid you not, it really is from Pasadena. He, ah, he passed away about three months ago and as she doesn't drive, she just wanted to get rid of it."

Mike still hadn't moved. With a soft chuckle, Evans started towards the car, "Come on, have a closer look. It's in immaculate shape."

As if in a trance, Mike followed slowly in his wake, Garabaldi and Devitt behind him, both grinning and chuckling. Evans opened the passenger side front door. Mike stood on the sidewalk, still shaking his head slightly, and looked in. "How in the world…?"

Evans took Mike's right hand and turned it palm up, dropping the keys into it. "It's yours, believe me."

Mike looked at him, the confusion evident on his face. "How…?"

"Well, it wasn't easy," Garabaldi laughed, stepping closer. "Especially when we got that call from Roy yesterday afternoon telling us you were going home this morning. We thought we'd have another day!"

"Yeah, but the LAPD can work pretty fast when it has to," Evans added. "So we pulled some strings in other departments and we got the ownership transferred – to you. We got new plates, in your name. And we even got in touch with your insurance company – we found the paperwork in your glove box – and had your insurance transferred to this one." He grinned "So – you're ready to go."

Mike was standing stockstill, staring at the sleek sedan in front of him. He took a deep, unsteady breath, ignoring the pain in his chest. He started to blink quickly, trying to pull himself together, as he exhaled softly. Slowly he turned to look at the two L.A. detectives. "I, ah, I don't know what to say…"

His smile disappearing, Evans put a hand on Mike's arm. "Just find and arrest Jeffrey Lonsdale… that's all you have to do, Mike… Believe me…"

"He's right, Mike," Garabaldi added gently, taking a step closer. "You've got the entire LAPD behind you and Steve right now, and all the thanks that anyone wants is to hear that you've arrested Lonsdale and he's finally going to pay for what he did all those years ago."

Mike stared at them silently, then he swallowed heavily and nodded.

Smiling warmly, Garabaldi reached out and took the keys from the San Francisco detective's hand. He crossed around to the trunk and inserted the key. "Oh, ah, have a look," he instructed as he opened the lid.

Mike took a few steps to his right and looked in. There was a large cardboard box in the middle of the spacious trunk with his suitcase beside it; Devitt's leather bag was tucked against the back wall. "We got all the stuff we could salvage out of your car – the trunk and glove box, and even under the seats. The paperwork for this car is in the glove box." He shut the lid and handed the keys back to a still shell-shocked Mike.

Devitt sidled up to his colleague and gently took the keys out of his hand. He smiled. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to wait to give it a test drive," he winked. "Bob, Phil, I gotta get this guy home before it gets too late." He held out his hand and shook theirs. "Thanks a lot, fellas, and you'll call Steve this afternoon with that credit card information if you get it? You've got his number, right?"

"You bet," Garabaldi confirmed.

Smiling, Devitt stepped off the curb and circled the Monte Carlo to the driver's side, putting the paper bag in the back seat then getting behind the wheel.

Mike looked at Evans and Garabaldi almost expressionlessly, still at a loss for words. Evans grinned. "You heard the man, you better hit the road." He reached out and, almost sluggishly, Mike raised his right hand and they shook.

Chuckling, Garabaldi stepped forward and shook Mike's hand as well.

"Fellas, I, ah…" Mike began quietly.

"Ah ah ah," Evans interrupted him, raising an admonishing forefinger. "Remember what I said, the only thanks we need is Lonsdale's arrest. All right?"

Finally smiling, Mike nodded. He turned slowly and stepped back to the door, trying not to wince as he gingerly got into the front seat. Evans closed the door for him as Devitt started the engine. It roared to life then started to almost purr.

Mike looked up at the two L.A. detectives through the window and nodded with a small faraway smile. As the car pulled smoothly away from the curb, Evans and Garabaldi could see him reach out and run his hand over the burnished wood of the dashboard. They grinned.

# # # # #

Devitt glanced across the front seat. They were on the 5 and heading north through the Tejon Pass and Mike had yet to say a word. He was still in shock.

The captain chuckled, patting the steering wheel. "This has a lot of power. And it handles really well."

Mike slowly looked over; his brow was slightly furrowed. "I can't believe they did this…" he said softly, finally finding his voice.

Devitt grinned. "It's pretty special, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

The frown getting deeper, Mike cocked his head slightly. "Did you know about this?"

With a noncommittal shake of his head, the gray-haired cop chuckled. "I had a feeling there was something in the works but I really didn't know about it till yesterday." He raised his right hand briefly. "Honest to god."

Mike looked at the shiny dark wood on the dashboard again then let his eyes roam over the almost pristine interior. "It's in great shape… it must've cost them a small fortune…"

"I think they got a good deal," Devitt supplied, trying to assuage some of the guilt he knew his colleague was feeling. "And actually, Phil told me this morning that most people just put in about 20 bucks each, but they have such a huge department that it didn't take long to get what they needed."

Mike snorted softly, still slumped slightly in the seat and looking overwhelmed. "I'll never be able to repay them…"

Devitt smiled warmly, glancing across the front seat again. "You don't have to repay them, remember… just arrest Jeffrey Lonsdale… that's all the thanks they want…"

Mike sighed heavily. "Yeah…" he almost whispered, knowing they still had a Herculean task ahead of them.

# # # # #

"Hello?"

"Steve, hi. It's Phil Garabaldi. How are you doing?"

"Phil! Hi. Ah, great, I'm feeling pretty good, thanks."

"Good to hear. Look, I just wanted to let you know that Mike and Roy are on their way home, and I have some news for you."

"Great, thanks. What have you got?"

"Well, we finally heard from MasterCard and they have a list of Lonsdale's charges over the past month that they just faxed over. We've had a look at it and there's no charges for any gas stations outside of the L.A. area on it, and no garages either as far as we can see. Anyway, I'll fax it up to you this afternoon. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, for sure. Give me a second and I'll find the fax number for the office."

"What?" He heard Garabaldi laugh. "You don't have it memorized?"

Chuckling, and trying not to wince with the discomfort, Steve stuck the receiver under his ear against his left shoulder as he reached under the small end table with his right hand to locate his address book. "I've got a lot of things in my brain but that's not one of them…" He grabbed the book and flipped it open. "Okay, here it is." He read out the number.

"Thanks. Look, ah, as soon as we get the rest of the info from them I'll give you a call, okay? You're going to be working from home, right?"

Steve chuckled again. "I don't have much of a choice, do I? Mike'll have my head if I don't. But Bill is my contact at the office and he'll get the faxes and bring them over."

"Good for him. Okay, I'll let you go." He paused for a moment, and to Steve it felt like he was debating whether or not to say something else. "Ah, okay, well, tell Mike and Roy we say hi again, and I'll talk to you when we get something else…"

"Okay, ah, yeah, thanks a lot, Phil. Talk to you later." Slowly placing the receiver back on the cradle, Steve frowned. Something was going on he had no idea about, and that bothered him.

# # # # #

Devitt opened the door, pocketing the key then picking up Mike's suitcase and stepping over the threshold. He looked over his shoulder. Mike was slowly making his way up the steep concrete staircase, his head down and his right hand on the railing.

"You okay?"

Mike stopped, raising his head and nodding. "Yeah…" he breathed through a soft gasp, trying not to show how much pain he was actually in.

With a concerned and frustrated sigh, Devitt backed into the house and put the suitcase down. He knew Mike had tempted fate by insisting he be released from the hospital before his doctors were satisfied he had recovered enough, but there was no stopping him when he set his mind to something. Now he just hoped that it wasn't a mistake.

Mike finally reached the landing and, with an exhausted smile, walked slowly past his colleague and into his living room. Devitt closed the door then turned to face him quickly, determined to take charge.

"All right, this is what you're going to do. I want you to go to your bedroom right now – no arguments – and lie down. If you're hungry, I'll go out and get us something to eat, but you're lying down and you're lying down now. Do you understand me?"

He was glaring uncompromisingly at his injured colleague, and Mike was staring back expressionlessly. Finally he nodded. "Okay…" he said softly.

Devitt frowned; Mike was giving in a lot easier than he had expected and that was unsettling.

Mike turned to the staircase and put his hand on the railing. He started up gradually. As Devitt watched the slow progress, he made up his mind. When Mike was safely in his bedroom, he was going to go down to the car and get his bag. He was spending the night, whether Mike wanted him to or not.