Sergeant Dan Healey was leaning over his desk, lit only by the small lamp on its corner. The office lights were off and it was dark outside. He made a note on a large yellow pad then leaned back, out of the light, and sat quietly for several moments.

He reached for the phone and moved it front and centre then rooted around in his top drawer for a small notebook. He flipped it open, found the number he was looking for then dialed and waited.

"Hello, Lee? … It's Dan. Yeah, sorry to disturb you so late … That's good, I'm glad. Listen, you still know that guy who works over in Archives? … You do? That's great. Listen, um, I need to get my hands on some information that I think only they might have and I was wondering if you could get me in -? … Yeah, it's about Garrity. I have a list - … Okay …Okay, so you'll let me know tomorrow morning?…. Yeah, that would be great, thanks, Lee… Yeah, tomorrow morning or anytime tomorrow would be just great… Thanks, Lee, thanks a lot… Yeah … Yeah, buddy, I'll see you tomorrow. 'Night."

Smiling, Healey hung up the phone and sat back. He sighed contentedly and nodded, then put the phone back on the corner of the desk and made another note on the yellow pad.

# # # # #

Exiting the elevator on the fifth floor, Steve studied at the signs on the wall then turned in the direction indicated. He had called the hospital that morning and was told that Mike had been moved from ICU to a private room upstairs. Now, armed with two large coffees and a bag of donuts, he scanned the room numbers for the one he wanted.

Finding the right room, he pushed the door open with his elbow then stopped short when he spotted the empty bed. Involuntarily, his heart began to race.

"I'm right behind you," came a familiar voice in his ear and he spun to see a grinning Mike, dressed in a blue hospital gown and robe, wearing white socks and leaning on a cane, walking slowly down the corridor towards him.

Steve's stunned look quickly turned into a broad smile. "Hey, look at you," he chuckled, taking a step forward. "When did all this happen?"

Mike got closer to his partner then stopped, breathing just a little harder than normal. Still grinning, he said, "They moved me up here about 8, and got me on my feet about a half hour ago. I've been walking slowly around the floor since then." He took a careful deep breath. "It feels good but I'm getting a little tired."

Steve held out the items in his hand. "I brought sustenance." He nodded towards the room.

"Naw," said Mike, "I don't want to spend any more time in there than I have to. There's a nice little sunroom just down the hall. Let's go there."

Steve smiled and nodded, almost unable to contain his joy and his relief. Side by side, the partners started leisurely down the corridor.

# # # # #

Haseejian slipped into the back booth of the Geary Street diner. The booth's occupant glanced up from the menu and nodded. "The burgers look good," the second man said with a smile.

"I don't have time to eat," Haseejian said flatly, "I gotta get back to work. IA is keeping us on a pretty tight leash." He paused as the other man closed the menu and laid it on the table. "What do you have for me?"

"Alright," the other man said slowly, with a slight smile, pushing the menu away. "So you are all aware that the duty sergeant that morning was Don Shepherd, right?" On Haseejian's nod, he continued, "Well, did you know that the first thing he did after Garrity's body was found was hand in his papers?"

The homicide detective shook his head and frowned.

"Now, he had over thirty-two years on the job so it wasn't surprising but the timing is pretty suspicious, don't you think? But, not only did he turn in his papers, he lawyered up. And not even a PBA lawyer; he hired one of his own."

Haseejian, who had been hunched over the table, leaned back, his brow furrowing even more.

The other man nodded and cleared his throat. "From what I've heard, and I believe my source on this one, when IA interviewed him right after the, ah, the 'incident', he pled the Fifth and he hasn't said a word since. Now they've threatened him with his pension – that's about all they have in the way of a bargaining chip – but so far, from what I've heard, Shepherd is still a clam. And no one can figure out why."

Haseejian sat quietly for a moment, eyes down, then asked, "What do you know about Shepherd?"

"Not much," the other man shook his head, "just what everyone else seems to know – he was a good cop but not outstanding. Didn't seem to have much ambition, content to walk a beat, which, from what I hear, he was good at. Excelled at community relations. When he started getting older, he was transferred to Properties and he was there for years, then about two years ago, they moved him upstairs, literally, to Duty Sergeant in the cells. He had a clean record, no commendations but no disciplinary problems. Just a good, solid, non-spectacular career."

"And nothing to tie him to Garrity, one way or another?"

Another head shake. "As far as I've heard, but it hasn't been much so take it for what's it's worth - they weren't in the Academy together, they never worked together and they didn't even know each other."

Haseejian snorted quietly and sighed. "Alright, thanks." He began to stand, fishing a couple of bills out of his pocket and tossing them on the table. He began to turn away.

"Hey – so that favour I owed you? We're even now, right?"

Staring impassively at the other man, Haseejian nodded slowly. "Yeah, we're even," he said quietly as he walked away.

# # # # #

"Where the hell is Dan?" Haseejian barked at Tanner as he strode into the Homicide office.

The black detective looked up quickly. "I have no idea. He was here when I got in but he disappeared about an hour ago. He didn't tell me where he was going. Why?"

Haseejian had stopped and now he shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry, Bill, I shouldn't have snapped … I just, ah, I have some information for him and was kinda hoping he was here."

"Hey, no problem. What is it?"

Haseejian glanced around the room then lowered his voice. "Not here. I'll tell you later. You get anything yet?"

Tanner shook his head, smiling mirthlessly. "I was assigned to do the paperwork on a suicide this morning, and they want me to wrap everything up by tonight, so I'm kinda tied up."

"Where's Lee?"

"He hasn't been here all morning. I don't know what's going on, Norm, but I don't like it. We should be working together on this and instead they seem intent on keeping us apart."

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause they think one of us did it." He looked toward the inner office. "Damn it, I wish Mike was here. Then we wouldn't have to be dealing with all this bullshit."

# # # # #

Mike slowly and carefully leaned back against the pillows, holding his breath and closing his eyes. Settled, he released a pain-filled sigh and looked at his partner. "Ah, damn it, I don't seem to be getting any better," he said through a grimace, his right hand over his heart.

With a disbelieving shake of his head, pulling the sheet up over the older man, Steve said patiently, "It's only been three days. The doctors told you you're gonna have to take it easy for at least a month, remember?" He paused and chuckled. "This isn't a movie or a TV show, you know? You don't just bounce back from an injury like yours overnight, Iron Mike or not." He finished with a trenchant, eyebrows-raised stare.

Scowling, Mike dropped his eyes, then slowly started to laugh, pressing his hand against his chest a little harder. "Point taken," he said with a smile and leaned back into the pillows a little deeper. "I keep forgetting to ask, has Garrity been arraigned yet?"

Caught by surprise, still adjusting the sheet and blanket over his partner, Steve hoped his momentary hesitation wasn't noticed. "Ah, I'm not sure, I haven't been paying much attention. He surrendered on the spot so his guilt was never in question, so the rest is just formality, right?" He paused, smiling wistfully. "At least we won't have to go through the farce of a trial, hunh?" His eyes met Mike's, and his thoughts turned back to those few terrifying moments in the rain outside the De Haro house.

"Yeah," Mike agreed with a sigh. "So," he said, brightening, "when are you going in for your nose job?"

Steve smiled and chuckled. "Well, I wanted to wait till you were out of here, which, in hindsight, was probably not a very well thought-out decision. I don't want you to be alone when you get out, so I'm… 'fostering you out', so to speak."

"What?" Mike asked dubiously.

Steve cleared his throat again, trying not to smile. "Um, you know when you got out of the hospital the first time, you stayed with Rudy and Marie for a couple of nights? Well, they're gonna take you in again until I'm able to take over."

"Take over?"

Steve began to speak again, stopped, sighed, shrugged in exasperation, and finally just nodded. "Yeah, you see, when they do my nose on Monday – and today's Thursday in case you forgot – it's day surgery, I go in in the morning and I'll be out before dinner. But I've got to stay immobile for a couple of days while it starts to heal, which is something I hadn't figured on so… that's why I need Rudy and Marie." He paused, but when he realized Mike was too confused and baffled to challenge, he continued. "When I get the all clear from my doctor, which should only be a couple of days, then you're going to move into my place."

When Mike opened his mouth to protest, he plowed on. "No argument, it's a done deal. You know your doctors have told you you can't be climbing stairs, and especially hills, for the next two weeks at least, maybe longer, and you can't lift anything heavy or exert yourself in any way.

"And in case you don't remember, your house is all stairs. I know mine has a lot too, but not as many, so I am going to ensconce you in my bedroom so you're near the bathroom, I'm moving my TV up there and I'll get you in a bunch of books and magazines, and Bill said he has a small fridge he can lend us. It's all set up, and you have no say it. So just smile and nod, 'cause you're not going to win this one," he finished with a sharp nod and a grin.

Mike, whose eyes had started to glaze over the longer Steve talked, shook his head slowly in amusement and started to chuckle. "Okay, you win, you win." With a wide smile, he added, "I, ah, I have to admit, I'm impressed by the detail. You seem to have thought of everything."

"Well," Steve shrugged nonchalantly, "you haven't been much of a conversationalist the past day or so, I had to do something while I sat here." He put his hand on Mike's right forearm and squeezed.

Mike blinked slowly, sighing. "Right now I'd do anything to get better as fast as I can." He looked at Steve with a fond smile. "I'll do whatever you want."

Steve winked and laughed. "That's what I wanted to hear. Look, I've got to drop by the office for a bit. Why don't you take it easy the rest of the afternoon and I'll come by with dinner later and we can go for another walk around the floor, okay?"

# # # # #

"Excuse me, Mister Healey?" The detective looked up at the smiling clerk on the other side of the table. "We're going to be closing soon. Are you almost finished?"

He smiled warmly. "Yes, Mrs. Ferguson, I just need to get a few more things Xeroxed and I'll be out of your hair."

"That's fine. You just help yourself. I'm glad we could be of assistance." She nodded politely and moved away.

Healey looked back down at the stacks of files, binders and documents on the table before him. He rifled through them quickly, finding the pages he needed copies of, and putting them in a folder.

He had spent the day going through reams of forms and letters, files and charts, copying everything and anything he thought might have some bearing on what he was looking for – and he was sure in the many pages he already had in his file and the many more he still had to copy, that the answer was in there somewhere. He had a lot of work yet to do, but he was more confident than ever that he was on the right track.

Getting up, he glanced at his watch, then closed his eyes momentarily, angry with himself. He knew his absence from the bureau would not have gone unnoticed, not only by his colleagues but by the higher ups, now that he was under suspicion. He hadn't meant to be gone so long. He had sworn Lessing to silence, not wanting word to get out where he was and what he was doing. And now he had put both his friends and his own career in jeopardy.

He picked up the papers and files that needed copying and headed off. His mind was clear and his intention pure. He no longer cared about his own career; the only thing on his mind right now was clearing his name and avenging his boss.