The hunter green Monte Carlo was heading down the 101 back towards The City. There had been a dearth of conversation in the car since it had pulled out of the San Quentin parking lot, both of its occupants contemplating the implications of what had just happened.
Steve looked across the front seat. Mike's head was back, the fedora low over his closed eyes. His right hand was resting lightly against the left side of his chest. "Are you okay?"
Not moving, Mike smiled slightly under the hat brim. "Oh, yeah… I'm just a little sore. I think the pain pill is wearing off. How about you?"
"Yeah, me too, but it's not too bad. I'll get us back home and we can just take it easy for the rest of the day… what do you say?"
"Yeah… that sounds good."
The companionable silence lengthened between them, the only sound the purring of the powerful engine and the wind whipping through the open windows.
They managed to reach The City before the start of the afternoon rush hour so traffic was fairly light as they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and wove their way to Potrero Hill. As they turned onto De Haro, Steve started scanning the left side of the street in search of an available parking space. Mike sat up a little straighter, pushing his hat back and gazing casually out the right window.
They both caught their breaths at the same time, but for different reasons. Steve had noticed a parked dark blue LTD that looked suspiciously like an SFPD unmarked. Mike's eyes had fallen on the unwelcome sight of Captain Roy Devitt sitting halfway up the steps in front of his house.
The partners glanced at each other, both looking slightly stricken, like little boys caught in a lie. "Shit," Steve muttered under his breath while the older man exhaled loudly.
The Monte Carlo swung into an empty spot beside the LTD. Steve shifted into Park, turned off the engine and looked across the front seat again. They stared at each other in silence for a long beat before he said, "Well, this one's all yours, boss."
Mike smirked. "Gee, thanks…" he muttered as he opened the door and turned carefully in the seat, trying not to give in to the pain as he got slowly to his feet. He slammed the door and started across the street without looking up, but he was fooling no one with his feigned nonchalance.
Devitt had stood then very slowly, one deliberate step at a time, worked his way down to the sidewalk, his face expressionless.
His partner trailing in his wake, Mike stepped onto the curb before he looked up, not even attempting to act surprised to see the senior officer. He stopped and smiled congenially. "Roy. I didn't expect to see you here today."
Devitt's eyes snapped from Mike to Steve and back again. "Where were you? And don't say you were out getting groceries or going to the drugstore." He made a point of looking Mike up and down, his confrontational stare settling on the fedora.
Clearing his throat, Mike nodded. "No, ah, you're right… we weren't getting groceries or at the drugstore… but, ah," he shrugged whimsically, " I have a hunch we may have just busted our case wide open." He grinned enigmatically, waiting for a response.
Devitt folded his arms, his eyes sliding from the senior partner to the junior; Steve smiled, raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Really…" the captain commented dryly. "Do tell."
Mike chuckled and looked down briefly, shaking his head. "Oh come on, you gotta know me by now, Roy… I don't talk about my hunches until I'm sure they're gonna pay off… so you gotta give us a little time." He looked up and met the captain's eyes evenly.
Devitt knew what he was asking. After a long beat, and another glance in Steve's direction, he uncrossed his arms and pointed a forefinger at Mike. He opened his mouth to say something then stopped, froze for a long beat, then dropped his hand, sighing loudly and knowingly. "I don't know why I even bother with you, I really don't," he muttered under his breath, trying not to smile. He exhaled loudly in mock frustration. "You really mean that, about the case?"
The lieutenant's smile disappeared and he nodded. "Yeah, I really mean it."
Devitt blinked quickly a couple of times, looking down. He was obviously not expecting to hear what he just did. "Well…" he began quietly, "I'm not going to ask you where you were then…" He looked up at the softly smiling lieutenant. "So, ah, is there anything you need from me… or the department…?"
Mike shook his head. "No, ah, Steve and I can handle it but, ah, can we borrow Bill and a patrolman tomorrow morning, with one of the big cars? We, ah," he glanced at his partner and chuckled, "we need some help with a few boxes."
"A few boxes?" Devitt was frowning.
Steve nodded and Mike chuckled. "Ah, yeah, over in Walnut Creek. So we'll probably need them all morning."
"Am I allowed to ask what's in these boxes?" Mike was shaking his head before Devitt had even finished the short question. He shrugged to himself. "Why did I even bother to ask?" he murmured under his breath.
"Ah, listen, Roy," Mike said quietly, pointing up the stairs towards his house, "I don't know about Steve, but I'd really like to get in there and lie down for awhile." He put his right hand on his left shoulder. "It's been a long day already."
Suddenly frowning, Devitt's eyes snapped back and forth between the two partners. Mike's injuries were still fairly obvious but the small bandage on the younger man's forehead was his only giveaway. It was sometimes easy to forget that they were both recovering from a very serious car accident. He took a step back. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he mumbled then froze slightly, realizing that somehow he was now on the defensive. As Mike slowly walked past him towards the stairs, he snorted softly to himself and shook his head in quiet awe.
All his frustration forgotten, he watched as his two injured colleagues made their slow way up the steep staircase to the Stone house. Remembering something, he took a quick step closer to the stairs. "Oh, ah, Mike!" he called, and the older man stopped, turning towards him slowly; lines of pain were now visible on his face and Devitt's heart skipped a beat. "Ah, sorry, I, ah… I just need to know what time you want Bill and the unie here tomorrow, that's all?" he asked with an apologetic smile and a shrug.
Nodding slowly, Mike said quietly, "Nine'll be fine… thanks, Roy." Then he turned and continued up the stairs.
# # # # #
Steve came back into the living room with a glass of water and the bottle of pills. Mike, still in his suit, the fedora on the map on the coffee table, was sitting in the easy chair with the footrest raised. His eyes were closed, his right hand resting on his bandaged shoulder.
"Here," the younger man said softly as he approached the chair, putting the glass on the endtable. Mike opened his eyes and held his hand out, waiting silently while Steve opened the pill bottle and shook one out onto his palm. Steve picked up the glass and waited till Mike was finished with it.
"Did you take yours?" the older man asked, letting his head fall back against the chair and closing his eyes.
"Yeah. Hey, ah, you feel like something to eat?"
Keeping his eyes closed, Mike gently shook his head. "I'm just gonna sit here till the pill kicks in…" he said quietly.
"Okay…"
Steve was almost through the kitchen doorway when he heard, "Are you sure you're all right?" He turned around to see the blue eyes staring at him from under a worried brow. And he knew he couldn't lie.
"I have a headache."
After a long beat, Mike tilted his head slightly towards the couch. "Lie down. I don't want you getting sick…" He smiled warmly. "I can't afford to lose you right now… not when we have a fugitive to catch…"
With a sudden lump in his throat and unable to speak, Steve swallowed heavily and nodded, smiling. He held the glass up. "I'll just dump this in the sink…" he said quietly and disappeared into the kitchen.
After pouring the water down the drain, he stood at the sink for a couple of seconds, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to slow his pounding heart. Everything they had gone through in the past several days came flooding back, taking his breath away. Almost out of habit he wrapped his right arm around his ribs; he was still in pain but it was nothing compared to those first few days.
But they had survived, they were still together, and they were on the hunt. It really couldn't get any better than that, he thought with a gentle, hopeful smile.
He turned off the overhead kitchen light and returned to the living room. Mike's head was back and his eyes closed; he looked asleep. He crossed to the picture window and closed the heavy curtains then turned off the table lamp beside the couch. He sat, staring at his partner as he slipped off his already loosened tie and tossed it on the coffee table. As he repositioned a small pillow at the end of the couch, he reached out and touched the older man's knee before, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ribs, he laid down.
And, though Steve couldn't see it, in the dark Mike smiled.
# # # # #
He opened his eyes on a darkened room lit with the spill from the overhead in the kitchen. He could hear someone moving around and he carefully craned his neck to look at the easy chair. It was empty.
He had no idea what time it was but there was no longer any sunlight bleeding around the edges of the curtain. He sat up slowly, relieved that his headache was gone and his ribs were feeling a bit better, and got slowly to his feet, using the arm of the couch for balance. He walked slowly to the kitchen doorway.
Mike, no longer in his suit, was standing at the stove. There were two pots on burners, a small one with a lid and a large uncovered one with what looked like boiling water. On the counter was a tall glass canister filled with uncooked spaghetti. With his right hand, he took the lid off the smaller pot, picked up a spoon from the counter and stirred.
Not wanting to startle the older man, Steve gently cleared his throat. "Uh, you need a hand with that?" he asked quietly, stepping deeper into the room.
Mike spun towards him. "Oh, ah, hi… I didn't know you were up." He smiled and nodded towards the big pot. "Uh, can you…?"
"Of course." Steve crossed to the counter and picked up the canister. As he put the spaghetti in the pot, he looked at his partner. "How are you feeling?"
"Good… yeah, it was good to get some sleep and let that pill kick in…" he snorted thankfully.
"Yeah, I know how that feels."
"How's your head?"
"Headache's gone… I feel pretty good too."
Smiling wistfully, Mike was nodding softly to himself, and Steve knew the older man was dealing with the same emotions that had washed over him earlier. He could see his partner casting furtive glances his way, as if reassuring himself that they were both still here and they were both recovering, physically and mentally.
They finished their dinner prep and ate it in companionable silence for the most part. Over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, after everything had been cleared away, Mike looked at his partner and smiled. "I know we're a long way from slapping the cuffs on Jeffrey Lonsdale again, but I think today was a good day… don't you?"
Steve smiled back, nodding. "I think it was a very good day, all things considered…"
"Yeah, ' cause we're not really firing on all cylinders at the moment, are we?" Mike chuckled at the rhetorical question.
"Actually, I think some of our cylinders are slightly broken at the moment, so I think we're doing really well," Steve laughed and his partner joined him.
Mike picked up his cup and drained it. "Well, I don't know about you, Smiley, but I want to hit the hay. I think it's gonna be a long busy day tomorrow, and I want to be as ready for it as I can be."
Steve nodded. "Yeah. Look, ah, why don't you head on up. I'm just gonna sit here for awhile."
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning." As Steve nodded, Mike slowly got to his feet and shuffled from the kitchen.
Steve wrapped both hands around the warm mug, letting his eyes roam the familiar kitchen. He smiled to himself. He sometimes felt more at home in this house than he did in his own. A lump formed at the back of his throat and he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes.
He took a careful deep breath, testing the limits of his healing ribs. There was still a long road ahead in many ways but it had felt good, and necessary he knew, to get behind the wheel today. Like getting back on the proverbial horse, it was an important step in his recovery. Just as he knew it was important for Mike to personally continue the hunt for Jeffrey Lonsdale. And he knew he would do everything in his power to make sure his partner, and the best friend he'd ever had, would succeed.
It was almost an hour before he climbed the stairs to the second floor.