After the door closed, he stepped to the bed but didn't sit. It was becoming increasingly difficult to take a deep breath from the pain in his chest. He reached into his jacket pocket and fingered the pill bottle; he hadn't taken one since they'd left the Carlyle kitchen and he was paying the price.
He waited until he heard Steve leave the bathroom and Jeannie's door close before he slowly made his way to the bathroom, returning a couple of minutes later with a Dixie cup of water. Clenching his teeth and holding his breath, he sat on the bed to swallow the pill. He knew it would take several minutes for it to even start to take effect,
Very slowly, hampered by his still useless left arm, he slipped his suit jacket off then undid the knot in his tie and pulled it off, tossing both on the nearby chair. He carefully kicked off his shoes and was reaching for the buttons on his shirt when the exhaustion overcame him and he stopped.
He got slowly to his feet, pulled the bedspread and sheet down, crossed to the door to turn the overhead light off then returned to the bed in the dark. He stacked the two pillows against the headboard and laid down, pulling the sheet over his legs and stomach.
He stared up into the dark, gritting his teeth against the ache, breathing in short, sharp gasps. His daughter was right, he thought, he sometimes didn't acknowledge his limitations. And as he got older, the bar for those limitations was getting lower and lower. He had to be more careful, he knew; there were other lives at stake besides his own.
His right hand crept across his chest and he pressed it lightly against his ribs, the support actually helping ease the discomfort while he waited for the medication to kick in.
He thoughts drifted back through the events of the day that had started so long ago. It really had turned out a lot better than he had anticipated, and he was more than grateful and relieved that his hunch had actually panned out. If truth be told, he did want to be the one to continue with the case, to see it through to its inevitable conclusion: Lonsdale locked away for the rest of his life, his parents spending time behind bars for aiding and abetting. But he also knew that his time, and his skills, were needed elsewhere, and that other equally qualified investigators and district attorneys would carry on in his stead. After all, he had an entire homicide bureau to run.
It was finally getting easier to breathe and his entire body began to relax. And as his mind began to slowly shut down, he tried to remember the things he wanted to tell his daughter, and the tasks he had yet to finish to finally put this whole sordid episode to rest for once and for all.
# # # # #
Steve had managed to change into his pajama bottoms and t-shirt before climbing between the sheets on Jeannie's bed. She had been right, he was in pain and he'd been trying for the past few days, successfully he thought, to unobtrusively swallow painkillers when he was sure his partner couldn't see. He knew Mike was too preoccupied with trying to pretend that he too was more physically able than he actually was, a foible they were both guilty of, he acknowledged grimly to himself.
And, secretly, he was grateful that Jeannie had insisted that he stay; he really didn't want to be home alone. This was one of the times he truly needed the unconditional acceptance he so often found in the warm embrace of his surrogate family.
As he lay in the bed, staring unseeing at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to finally carry him away, he thought back over the day. He had been working with Mike for almost four years now, and as many times as the veteran detective had surprised or impressed him in all that time, nothing compared to today. His body battered and bruised, his left arm useless, Mike had nevertheless been at the top of his game when he needed to be the most. It had been a masterful display of detection, intuition and determination.
He was still smiling softly to himself when he finally drifted off into a deep and much needed sleep.
# # # # #
His eyes opened slowly. He could see sunshine bleeding around the dark curtains and knew the sun had been up for hours. He turned his head to look at the endtable, then reached out and wrapped his fingers around his watch, pulling it close to his face. 9:43. He snorted softly; he hadn't slept in this late in a long time. He stretched slowly and carefully, mindful of his still aching ribs, then began to get himself together.
Ten minutes later, having foregone his usual morning shave and wearing one of Mike's old bathrobes over his pj bottoms and t-shirt, he padded barefoot down the stairs to the first floor, the welcoming aroma of coffee wafting out of the kitchen.
Jeannie, still in her pajamas and bathrobe, was curled up on a kitchen chair, a coffee cup near her elbow as she leaned over the table reading the morning paper. She looked up and grinned when he appeared in the doorway. "Well, good morning," she said brightly but not loudly. "You had a good sleep."
Looking uncharacteristically disheveled, but not really caring at the moment, Steve smiled. "Yeah, I did." He nodded towards the counter, running a hand across the back of his neck. "That smells great."
"Help yourself," she urged, getting up and crossing to take a cup out of the cupboard near the stove and putting it on the counter beside the percolator. "You want some breakfast?"
"Oh, yes, please," Steve mumbled as he stepped to the counter and picked up the percolator.
"Bacon and eggs?"
"That sounds amazing, thank you. Anything I can do to help?"
"Yes," she chuckled, "you can sit at the table and read the paper and stay out of my way."
He chuckled through a yawn, trying to wake himself up, as he poured his coffee, picking up the cup and crossing to sit at the table.
She was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she opened the fridge and took the bacon and egg carton out. She was relieved he looked appreciably better than the night before. "How are you feeling?"
He looked up as he sat and reached for the paper to turn it around. "A lot better, thank you… It really helped." He took a sip of his coffee.
"Well, don't forget, you promised to go back to bed after you eat, right? 36 hours…?" She was looking at him peripherally and saw him nod.
"As promised…" he chuckled, wrapping both hands around the cup. He looked at her. "Mike not up yet?" he asked, trying to mask the tinge of worry in his voice.
She broke two eggs into a large frying pan; she knew he liked his eggs scrambled, with a dash of paprika. "No, he's still sleeping." He looked at her, frowning, and she smiled as if reading his mind. "He's fine, I was in his room just before you came down." She chuckled affectionately. "He got as far as taking off his jacket, his tie and his shoes… he's still dressed."
Steve chuckled. "He's gonna love that."
She laughed. "I'll take his suit to the dry cleaners when he finally takes it off." She laid strips of bacon in the second frying pan. "Oh, ah, just so you know, pot roast for dinner. Mike hasn't had one since the last time I was here so I except you haven't either?"
"I have not, you're absolutely right." He looked at her and frowned. "When did you get a pot roast?"
She grinned. "I took advantage of the quiet house yesterday. I went grocery shopping with the… Monte Carlo," she chuckled. "I've gotta get use to saying that. I don't think we've every owned a Chev. We're Ford people."
"It's nice, isn't it?"
"It's gorgeous, and it handles so well."
"Yeah, ah," Steve said carefully, "I'd, ah, I'd keep that to myself for now, if I was you. Mike still hasn't been able to get behind the wheel. I think everyone's driven it but him…" He shrugged with a chuckle. "I mean I don't think he'll mind that you drove it, just that you got to drive it before him."
She joined in the companionable laugh.
"Hey, ah, how much longer till that's ready?" he asked, gesturing at the stove with his chin.
She shrugged. "Five, six minutes."
He stood up. "I'll be back before then." Taking his coffee cup, Steve got up and left the kitchen. He quietly climbed the stairs and opened the master bedroom door. In the sunlight streaming around the curtains, he could see his partner lying on his back in the bed, his right arm across his stomach. He took a couple of silent steps forward, his heart in his mouth, straining in the gloom of the unlit room to see the gentle rise and fall of the older man's chest.
He exhaled softly through his mouth, closing his eyes in relief of a worry he knew was totally groundless. Sipping his coffee, he stood there for a couple of minutes then quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
# # # # #
"I have to say it again, I love the way you make eggs."
Standing at the sink, running cold water over one of the frying pans, Jeannie glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "It's a little bit of butter, a pinch of salt and a dash of paprika. I think you're capable of doing that," she chuckled.
"Yeah, but when I do it, it doesn't taste the same." He shoveled the final forkful into his mouth then paused, freezing for a long beat, his head cocked. He glanced towards the sink. "I just heard a door close."
She smiled. "He's up." She wiped the frying pan quickly with the damp dishcloth then put it back on the burner. "Do me a favor and head him off at the pass. I want to serve him breakfast in bed."
Stuffing the last piece of bacon in his mouth, he picked up the dirty plate and put it on the counter. "I'll bring him a coffee," he said around the bacon, getting a mug out of the cupboard,
She had both the bacon and the eggs frying by the time he started up the stairs with the full cup of coffee.
# # # # #
He was sitting on the side of the bed when Mike stepped through the doorway and froze briefly, startled. The older man chuckled as he crossed to the bureau. "So, you are up… I couldn't tell. Jeannie's door is closed."
Steve held the cup out. "I've only been up about a half hour. How are you feeling?"
Mike opened the middle drawer of the large dresser and took out a clean pair of pajamas. "A little better. You?" He hadn't noticed the proffered cup.
"Me too. You going somewhere?" the younger man asked facetiously.
"What?" Mike turned to him, frowning, finally noticing the cup of coffee. He put the pajamas on top of the dresser and took the cup with a perfunctory, "Thanks."
Steve smirked. "You're wearing your suit. Are you going somewhere?"
Taking a sip, Mike glared at his partner through narrowed eyes. "Ha ha, smarty, you know very well I slept in my clothes last night."
Chuckling, Steve nodded. "Listen, ah, Jeannie wants to surprise you with breakfast in bed."
Mike's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's nice." He glanced over his shoulder towards the door. "Say, uh, how much time do you think I have?" he asked urgently.
Steve frowned. "How much time…?"
The older man stuck his hirsute chin out. "I want to surprise her. Can you give me a hand… literally?"