Steve was jolted awake from his light sleep by the sound of someone trying, not quite successfully, to quietly push open his hospital room door. He opened his eyes to see Rudy Olsen backing into the room and pulling a wheelchair through the doorway. As the captain began to turn the wheelchair, he announced, "I thought you two needed to see each other before we left."

As the chair swung around, a grinning Mike Stone, dressed in khakis, a light blue shirt, sports coat and fedora, came into view. His right arm was still in a sling, the empty sleeve of his sports coat hanging loosely.

Steve's eyebrows climbed into his hair and, smiling as best he could, managed a somewhat muffled, "Hey, they're letting you out of here?"

"Yep, I'm gonna go home with Rudy for a few days," Mike nodded, glancing over his shoulder at his old friend. "Have they told you yet when you can get out?"

"Not yet, but the face bone specialist guy there…the maxilo-" he shrugged, not remembering the unwieldy title. Mike pointed to his own cheekbone and Steve chuckled. "Yeah, that guy. Anyway, he's coming to see me again today. So who knows?"

"How are you feeling?" Olsen asked.

"A little less like a boxer after a title fight, and a little more like Michael Corleone," Steve chuckled through his clenched teeth and both older men laughed, relieved that their young colleague was feeling well enough now to joke about his plight.

"Look, ah, we got a car waiting for us out front so we better go," Mike explained apologetically, "but if you're still here tomorrow I'm gonna try to get in to see you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said quickly, trying to reassure his partner, "I'm doing fine, don't worry about me. Take care of yourself and come and see me when you can."

Mike reached out and they quickly clasped hands for a moment. Then with a knowing wink at Steve, Olsen turned the wheelchair and he and Mike left the room.

# # # # #

"Sorry I'm late, fellas, I just dropped Mike off at my place. Marie is in seventh heaven; even since the kids went off to college, she's been dying to mother someone, and now she's got her chance," he joked as he closed his office door and took his seat behind the desk. He sighed with a chuckle, "Poor Mike."

He leaned over his desk. "So," he said, looking from Healey to Haseejian, "what did Gerry tell you."

Haseejian grinned. "Bottom line – Mike's got nothing to worry about."

Looking a little shocked, Olsen looked from one sergeant to the other, but they were both nodding and smiling. "Seriously?"

Healey nodded even more vigorously. "Yep, he said from everything that we told him, and from reading all the reports and looking at all the photos, it was definitely 'mitigating circumstances' and that, as far as he and the D.A.'s office were concerned, the case needed no further investigation."

"Wow," Olsen said slowly, "well, that's the best news we could've received, isn't it? I have to admit, part of me was thinking that maybe…I don't know…" He stopped, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the uncomfortable implications. He looked at the two detectives.

"You guys have done yeoman's work on this case, you really have. Congratulations. The entire department owes you a debt of gratitude –"

"Are you kidding?" Haseejian interrupted gently with a grin, "This was Mike and Steve we're talking about here, you know… I'm just glad it's turned out the way it has." Healey nodded his accord.

Olsen smiled warmly. "Agreed." He stood. "Look, I think Mike and Steve should be given the good news as soon as possible, and in person. Why don't you guys go to my place and talk to Mike then head over to the hospital and see Steve, and then take the rest of the day off. You guys deserve it."

# # # # #

Olsen sighed heavily as he strode down the hospital corridor. The last twenty-four hours had started off so amazingly well: he had taken a quickly recovering Mike Stone to his house for several days of recuperation under his wife's watchful eye; he had received word that the D.A.'s office had decided against further investigation of the shooting, and Steve Keller had learned that his injuries were not as bad as originally diagnosed. Even though he would need surgery on his nose once the swelling completely disappeared, he was going to be released tomorrow.

Mike had taken a cab to the hospital to visit his partner and Olsen was now coming to pick him up. But what should have been a pleasant task for the police captain was suddenly going to become, because of a phone call he had received an hour before, one of the most difficult conversations he would ever have.

He paused briefly outside the door, inhaled deeply then knocked. He could barely hear Steve's "Come in" and he opened the door slowly and quietly. Steve was sitting up in bed, and he met Olsen's curious stare with upraised eyebrows, a grin and a nod behind the door.

Olsen followed Steve's nod and stopped, then chuckled. Mike was sitting sideways in a large leather armchair, his left arm and side of his head against the back of the chair, he legs over one arm, looking for all the world like a very large ten-year-old. He was sound asleep.

Olsen tiptoed closer to the bed, unable to resist a smile.

"He fell asleep about a half hour ago and I haven't had the heart to wake him," Steve whispered through clenched teeth. He glanced up at the captain and froze, his smile disappearing. "Is something wrong?"

Sighing heavily once more, Olsen met Steve's eyes evenly. "Look, Steve, there's something I have to talk to you and Mike about. It's, ah, it's very important, and it can't wait."

Steve said nothing as Olsen walked over to the armchair and laid a hand gently on Mike's right knee, staying well away from his injured shoulder. Mike jerked awake, winced, then turned slowly and carefully in the chair, lowering his legs to the floor. He looked up, surprised to see Olsen standing there. He ran his left hand across the back of his neck. "Whoa, I guess I fell asleep, huh?" he said with a chuckle.

"Mike, ah, listen, there's something I have to talk to you and Steve about," Olsen began without preamble, and Mike's smile quickly disappeared, replaced with a wary apprehension. He exchanged a worried look with his partner.

"What's going on, Rudy?" Mike got slowly to his feet and crossed to the bed, somehow knowing he wanted to be closer to Steve to hear what the captain had to say.

Olsen sank slowly into the armchair as Mike sat on the edge of Steve's bed. The partners watched their boss as he looked down at the floor for several seconds then raised his head.

"A little over an hour ago, I got a call from Internal Affairs. They told me a witness has come forward to the shooting the other day."

"A witness?" Mike said quietly, glancing at Steve. "That's impossible. There was no one else in that apartment but us."

Olsen nodded in agreement. "Not in the apartment, across the alley. Did either of you notice a curtainless window in the bedroom? Well, this witness says that he saw everything that happened in the bedroom." Olsen looked at Steve. "He gave an account of what went on in the bedroom between you and Pettet that matches up with yours, Steve, action for action." Olsen looked at Mike. "From the angle of his window, he said he couldn't see you in the doorway, but he heard the shot and saw Pettet fall. He said it was obvious that Pettet was out of control and was going to kill the man on the bed if he had the chance." He stopped and dropped his eyes.

"Well, if he's corroborating what we reported - what happened - then what's the problem?" Mike asked and Steve agreed with a questioning grunt.

Olsen looked up reluctantly and met his friend's eyes unwaveringly. "Your second shot, Mike. He's saying that when Pettet got back up, and he does say he got back up, the knife was gone and that he was holding up his arms in surrender. And that you shot him anyway."