The Salad Nicoise was chilling in the fridge, the crème caramel cooling on the counter. Mike crossed to the table with two cups of coffee. "Here," he said, gingerly putting one in front of the young man engrossed in the large cookbook.

Steve glanced up. "Thanks." His eyes returning to the book, he picked up the cup and took a sip, then nodded in appreciation.

Mike eyed him with a warm smile, taking his own sip before setting the cup down on the table, keeping his left hand around it. He waited in silence for a few seconds. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet."

"Well, other than the fact it has beef in it, I didn't get a very good look at the preparation after you put me to work on the salad. But I think I have it nailed down…" He glanced up briefly. "God, that smells good. How much longer?"

Mike looked at the stove clock. "Another half hour. So, what's your guess?"

"Guess? No guessing involved here. The red wine gave it away, actually." He smiled triumphantly. "Beef Bourguignon."

Mike laughed sarcastically, lifting his cup and taking a sip.

Steve's face fell. "What? It's not?"

Mike shook his head and looked down. "You know, you really gotta get more confidence in yourself… of course you're right," he cackled.

Stunned, Steve paused, then shook his head and grinned. He reached across the table, pretending to smack his partner. They both laughed companionably, and it felt good.

# # # # #

Everything had turned out perfectly. The salad was delicious and perfectly prepared, the Beef Bourguignon exquisite, and it was all topped off with a divine crème caramel. The dinner talk remained light and easy, mostly about sports and what had gone on in the world the day before, courtesy of the newspaper Mike had picked up that morning and jammed into the bags of groceries.

They deeply enjoyed the food and the company, deciding to leave the cleanup for the next day. After putting a fresh pot of coffee on, Steve joined his partner in the living room; Mike was sitting on the sofa, his head back and eyes closed. His left hand was once more on his right shoulder.

"The coffee'll be ready in a bit," Steve said quietly as he slid into the armchair, patting his stomach with a wry smile. Mike nodded. "You okay?"

The older man opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Yeah," he said with a slight nod, "just tired. Long day, lots going on."

Nodding himself, Steve asked gently, "You sure that's all?"

Mike leaned forward as best he could and stared at the younger man without expression. "What do you mean?"

Steve looked down, running a forefinger along the end of the chair arm. "I mean…" he inhaled deeply, "you maybe want to talk about what happened earlier?" His eyes found Mike's.

They stared at each other for several long seconds; Mike blinked first and looked away. "I guess I'm not handling things as well as I should be… or maybe as well as I think I should be…" he said haltingly.

Steve snorted mirthlessly. "I've got a bulletin for you - neither am I," he said lightly, and Mike's eyes snapped to him, frowning.

"Lenny told me you've been having nightmares. Was he right?"

Steve nodded. "Unh-humh."

Mike looked down. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Steve's brow furrowed. "What do you have to be sorry about?"

Still looking away, Mike said softly, "We never should've been there. It was never our case to begin with…"

Steve leaned forward. "Mike, that's not the issue here and you know it. Nobody could've predicted, or prevented, what happened to us in Kentucky. Damn it, the hell we were put through didn't have anything to do with the case anyway. It was a family feud we just happened to get caught in the middle of… right? So don't go blaming yourself for that; I'm not gonna let ya."

Mike sighed noisily, still not meeting the younger man's eyes. "So, ah, what are your nightmares about? Do you remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember… but, ah, let's talk about you first, okay... What, ah, what triggered that anxiety attack?

Mike looked up and snorted. "Was that what it was? It felt like a heart attack, or at least what I think a heart attack would feel like." He sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand.

"Was it the car?" Steve prompted gently.

Mike nodded slightly with a facial shrug. "I'm sure that's part of it, it just all came flooding back again –"

"When I dropped that book. Damn it, I'm sorry, Mike," Steve interrupted but the older man raised a hand and cut him off.

"No, don't blame yourself for that. If it wasn't you and here, someplace… safe… god knows when and where it would've happened. And I guarantee you, it would've happened somewhere and I probably would've had the same reaction." He paused and took a deep breath. "I am having trouble getting past that damn car, and I don't know why. I mean, god, you were in it too, in the front seat, for god's sake, and you don't seem to have that problem."

"Because I wasn't shot, Mike. I wasn't lying on top of someone in the back seat expecting to get hit again. If you can call it luck, I was lucky. I had a job to do – to get us outa there. I didn't have time to listen to each and every one of those forty-seven slugs hit the car."

Mike's stare had unfocused as Steve talked. He lifted his head and, surprisingly, a slight smile played over his lips. "I haven't had the chance to ask – how the hell did you get us outa there?"

With the familiar Keller twinkle in his eye, Steve grinned warmly and shrugged. "I knew the truck was far enough in front of us that I could get the car past it, so I just cranked the wheel to the left and floored it."

"Were you looking through the windshield at all?" Mike asked in awe.

Nodding, Steve snorted lightly. "Well, sorta. I kinda peered over the dash as best I could… I kept expecting to get hit but it didn't happen, and I managed to keep the car on the road too." He chuckled self-consciously. "That was a bonus," he added softly.

"That was incredible," Mike said quietly, staring at his partner with pride. "I'm sure glad it was you behind the wheel and not me."

Steve shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "What you did to save Rutter… man, I don't know if I could've done that, at least not as fast. Speaking of which, how did you figure out they were gonna shoot at us so fast? Did Donny Lee say something?"

It was Mike's turn to snort dryly. "It wasn't what he said, it's what he didn't say. He looked… excited when the truck approached; I think he thought it was his family. But when whoever it was stepped in front of the headlight, he looked terrified. I guess I knew in that split second."

Steve shook his head, impressed. "God, I'm sure glad you did. You saved us all, you know that, right?"

Mike shrugged noncommittally. "I just keep hearing those shots… they never stopped… "

Steve let the silence hang between them for several long seconds. "You know, I got the chance to talk to Sergeant Pearson about that a few days later; we talked about the firepower available in the hollers now, the fully automatic and semi-automatic rifles they have. The stuff brought back from 'Nam… He thinks it's only gonna get worse, the guns are gonna get bigger and more powerful, more rounds per second." He shrugged. "We're gonna have to think about that, about arming ourselves with something bigger and more powerful than our .38's."

Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "God help us all."

Steve nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed and eyes down. He looked up and cleared his throat. "Coffee's ready. I'll be right back." He got up and disappeared into the kitchen. Mike laid his head back against the sofa and stretched as much as he could; the unnaturally arched position the brace put his shoulders in was tiring. His right shoulder was really beginning to ache from the exertions of the day but he didn't want this evening to end just yet. For the first time in days, he felt like he was starting to get a handle on the things that had been giving him so much grief.

Talking to Murchison had helped to penetrate the miasma of gloom and guilt that had hung heavily around him since his return home, but nothing could equal the solace he was finding in the company of the one person who knew, intrinsically, what he was experiencing. He only hoped that, when the time came, he could be the reciprocal pillar of strength that Steve needed him to be.

The younger man limped back into the living room with two cups in hand. He put one on the coffee table before dropping back down onto the armchair. He stared at his partner over the top of the cup as he took a sip. The older man's head was back against the sofa, his eyes closed. Steve could see the dark circles of fatigue under his eyes, and knew it was an exhaustion borne of tension and remorse rather than lack of sleep.

Slowly, Mike tilted his head forward and opened his eyes, looking down at the table. With a wince, he sat forward stiffly and reached for the cup. "Thanks," he said quietly before taking a sip.

Steve watched him closely. "So, ah, what else is bothering you?"

Mike's eyes snapped up quickly. "What do you mean?" He managed to keep the sharpness out of his voice, a little disconcerted at being read so easily.

"Come on, Mike, it's not just the car and we both know it." He leaned forward and put the cup on the table, then put his elbows on his knees, continuing to meet the blue eyes without blinking.

The older man stared back, then sighed and closed his eyes. He sat back, lowering the cup to his lap, keeping both hands wrapped around it. Opening his eyes, he cleared his throat lightly. "When I close my eyes I, ah, I keep hearing those two shots… the ones deep in the woods… the ones I thought meant you and Donny Lee were dead…" He looked down and took a deep breath. "I'll never forget that sound… never… I thought, ah… I thought…" He looked up and met his partner's eyes. "I thought you were dead… I knew you were dead…" His eyes were bright but no tears fell. He was beyond tears right now.

Staring into the troubled blue eyes, Steve's concerned frown began to slowly transform into a warm smile as he laid a hand on Mike's knee. "When I heard those same shots… I thought they'd found you. Donny Lee kept telling me it wasn't… and I wanted so hard to believe him…" He dug his fingers into Mike's leg as he took a deep, unsteady breath. "I really wanted to believe him… but I don't think I did…"

The older man reached out, laid his left hand over Steve's and squeezed. "Thank god we were both wrong, hunh?" he asked quietly with a tiny smile.

Smiling back, Steve nodded with a quiet snort. He dropped his eyes and his gaze suddenly unfocused; he was far away, once more sitting in the passenger seat of the Caprice, watching his partner's lifeless body being dragged from the back of a pick-up.

Pulling his hand out from under Mike's, he sat back quickly with a short embarrassed laugh and ran a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes darting around the room.

"What?" Mike asked, leaning forward as best he could, his question quiet and soothing.

"Humh?" Steve's eyebrows rose as he feigned ignorance and nonchalance; Mike was having none of it.

"What did you just see?"

Steve tried to smile reassuringly and did a bad job of it. "Ah, nothing… really, nothing…" He shook his head dismissively.

Mike lowered his head, staring at the younger man from under his brow. "Do you honestly think after all we've been through and all the years we've been together you can lie to me that easily and get away with it?"

Steve stared at him, neither giving quarter. Finally Steve dropped his head, muttering under his breath, "I really don't want to get into it right now, all right?"

Mike hesitated for a split second, wavering. "Why not?" he snapped. When the younger man said nothing, he pressed. "Why not, Steve? Why do I have to come clean tonight and you don't? And don't tell me nothing's bothering you because I know it is… So, what, we can talk about what I've been going through but we can't talk about you? About what's giving you the nightmares?"

With his partner's blue eyes boring into his face unwaveringly, the younger man squirmed where he sat. Then his furious green eyes snapped towards the older man. "All right," he barked with barely suppressed anger, "you want to know what's giving me nightmares, I'll tell you. It was watching them pull your body out of the back of a pick-up truck and lay you on the road… and knowing you were dead."