Thanks, everyone, for coming along on the ride; hope you enjoyed it!
"Come in," he heard a voice call through the door and Steve hesitated a split second before turning the knob and stepping into Captain Olsen's office. There was nobody behind the desk; in fact, the only occupant of the room was his partner, who was sitting with his legs crossed and hands in his lap in the furthest of the two guest chairs.
Steve looked at him with a confused frown as he closed the door. "Where's Rudy?"
"He's not here," Mike said simply and watched as the younger man began to shake his head in a 'well, obviously' motion, "and he's not coming."
Steve froze, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean he's not coming? His secretary said he wanted to see me at 10."
"Well, I have a feeling she said something about he'd like to see you in his office but really nothing about him actually being here as well." Mike chuckled slightly, indicating the other chair.
Touché, Steve thought with the ghost of a wry smile as he took the short steps to the vacant chair and sat.
"Nobody except Rudy and Alice know we're here and nobody's going to disturb us. It's just you and me, buddy boy." Mike was looking at him with a strange mixture of sympathy and regret and his heart sank.
"So what's this all about?"
Mike chuckled again and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I think you know. I know you know."
Steve's head went back slightly and a look of confrontation suddenly appeared. "Now, Mike –"
The older man held up his right hand. "Now before you get on your high horse, let me give you that facts, as I know them," he said calmly, touching his own chest. He took a deep breath before he began. "So even though you weren't physically a hundred percent, you accompanied Bobby Cox and Cole Harrison to the take-down at Coopers. You weren't supposed to be there, or anywhere in that neighborhood for that matter, but I get the feeling that Bobby Cox might have alerted you in some way that it was going down. Mistake number one."
Mike leaned back slightly but the intensity in his voice didn't waver. "While the raids of the bar and the bodega were going down, you got out of the car to… see what was going on, even though you had been specifically told not to. Mistake number two."
With an almost angry quick clearing of his throat, Steve leaned back in the chair and looked away.
"You spotted Danny, arriving in his bright red Mustang," Mike continued, his eyes boring into the younger man, "and, thinking that maybe they'd make an error in timing the raids and were gonna lose him, you decided to follow him on your own, without calling it in, and taking the department's unmarked without permission in the process. Three." He raised three fingers of his right hand and Steve flinched.
"You tailed Danny into another jurisdiction, again without permission, and neglected to notify the locals." He was about to say 'Four' but stopped himself when he saw the look of annoyance on his partner's face; he knew it was time to back off… slightly.
"When you were… caught, for lack of a better word, by Cox and Harrison before you stumbled even deeper into the mire, you once again were told to remain in the car and not to interfere, as you had no authority to even be there in the first place. And, once again, you didn't." Quickly raised eyebrows signaled a silent 'Five'.
Steve exhaled loudly and pointedly, looking down and brushing an invisible speck from his pants.
"And then," Mike began again, sitting back and folding his arms, "the really interesting part starts. That entire escapade with 'the man in the black sedan'." He sighed. "I don't even know where to begin with that one but it ended up with you shooting him in the leg and then knocking him out with your gun."
The older man closed his mouth and lowered his head, staring at his partner with an expression that could only be described as profound disappointment. Steve closed his eyes and sighed; more than anything else in his life, he hated being a failure and a screw-up in the mind of this man that he loved and respected so much. "Mike, I – " he began conciliatorily but was abruptly waved quiet.
"I'm not finished," the older man snapped almost angrily, unfolding his arms and leaning forward slightly, and Steve's heart froze. They locked eyes for several silent seconds and then the younger man looked away, unable to hide his shame and guilt.
"Now I've talked with Gary and I've talked with Rudy about all this and we've come to a number of conclusions," Mike continued finally, his voice betraying no indication of what he thought about the dilemma now facing them. "First, what you did, disobeying a direct order at the scene of the raids, tailing a suspect in a departmental car, that wasn't assigned to you, while not officially on duty and crossing jurisdictions, are actions for which you have to be held responsible. We all agree on that."
Mike paused and Steve, looking down and unable to make any kind of eye contact, nodded slowly. He wasn't entirely surprised and he braced for the worst.
"And when it comes to what you did with regards to that 'man in the black sedan', well, we're pretty well in agreement on that as well. What you did, incapacitating him without having to resort to extreme physical force, was not only the result of clear, calm and professional thinking but it also, without a doubt, saved two lives."
The older man paused again and watched as the younger cop's head came up gradually, his brow furrowed, not sure if he was actually hearing correctly. What he'd heard didn't sound much like a reprimand. Mike smiled slightly.
"Gary says, and Rudy and I agree, that if you hadn't been on that pier last night, Bobby and Cole would most likely be dead right now. You seem to have the uncanny ability to turn a wrong – or in this case, several wrongs – into a right, buddy boy. And, as unlikely as it sounds, the department owes you a big debt of gratitude for what went down last night."
Steve stared at his partner, his eyes wide, hearing the words but not quite processing them fully. Eventually his rigid posture began to relax and he almost slumped against the back of the chair. With a studied deliberateness, Mike did the same, the smile lingering.
"You're not off the hook, if that's what you're thinking," the older man said calmly and quietly. "Not by a long shot."
Steve's shoulders sagged and resigned inevitability clouded his eyes. He looked down, running his right hand along his thigh, feeling the cloth from his pants under his palm, trying to slow his pounding heart.
Mike cleared his throat pointedly and shifted slightly in the leather chair. "They've left it to me, if that's what you're wondering. Your… disciplinary action, for want of a better term at the moment… is entirely up to me."
Steve closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He jumped slightly when he felt the touch of Mike's hand on his knee and opened his eyes to see his boss leaning towards him, a warm smile lighting his face.
"You can relax," the older man said softly. "I'm your partner, remember? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
The younger man stared at him, too shocked to even move. "But Rudy –"
"I told you they left the punishment up to me," Mike interrupted with a slight chuckle. "And, in my humble opinion, I think you've been beating yourself up enough these past thirty-six hours. I have no intention of piling-on, at least not too hard." He leaned back and smiled. "Besides, if Bobby Cox was willing to take the heat for you, to tie himself in knots trying to come up with a scenario that had him taking down the guys on the boat as well as the 'man in black' in the parking lot, like some kind of Superman… well, to me that says he owes you more than he could ever repay. And I happen to think he's right about that."
Steve continued to stare, stunned and confused. "But you said I wasn't off the hook…?"
"With me," Mike answered simply, losing the smile. "You may be off the hook with the other guys, but not with me. At least not yet. I think you still need to… atone for your flagrant disobedience. You were lucky this time; things turned out for the best. But next time, if there ever is a next time, you may not be so lucky." He watched as his young partner swallowed nervously. "Now I know Rudy said he wanted you to take a couple of days off and let those ribs of yours heal. I think he's right about that, but I don't want you coming back into the office for a week. And three of those days will be without pay."
Mike finished with a pointed stare, waiting for a response. Steve glared back, as if expecting more. When it didn't come, he tilted his head and lightly bit his bottom lip. "That's it?"
With a wry smile, Mike sat back and slowly crossed his arms. "Yeah, that's it," he drew out the three short words, lacing them with a hint of sarcasm. "You want more?"
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Steve chuckled. "No, sir, that's, ah…" He stopped, staring at his partner, and his smile disappeared. "Thank you," he whispered.
With an embarrassed laugh, Mike looked down. "Listen, ah, in case you didn't hear it in all that yammering I was doing…" He raised his head, deep respect and admiration showing so obviously in his eyes. "I'm very proud of you. You really went above and beyond, not just for those guys on the dock but for me as well." He blinked quickly several times and swallowed heavily. "You're a hell of a cop, Steve Keller," he said quietly, his eyes suddenly very bright.
Steve sat perfectly still, feeling his own eyes brimming, staring at this man who had come to mean so much to him. With a hand that had started to tremble, he leaned forward, reaching out to briefly touch the side of Mike's face. Grinning, he said lightly, "I had a hell of a teacher."
As Steve took his hand away, Mike looked down and chuckled. "Well, I don't know about you but I think we need to get out of here, give Rudy his office back." He started to get to his feet and Steve watched him stand.
Mike started towards the door then stopped, turning back. Steve still hadn't moved or taken his eyes from the older man. "What?"
With a warm, enigmatic smile, Steve shook his head as he got up. "Nothing, nothing," he said, putting his hand lightly on the older man's back, ushering him ahead towards the door.
Mike closed the office door and they started down the corridor side by side in silence. After several strides, Steve looked over, raising his hand to pat his partner on the back. They turned the corner and headed for the stairwell that would take them up to Homicide.
# # # # #
Mike opened the front door and stepped wearily across the threshold, closing the door behind him and tossing the keys on a nearby table. He slipped off his shoes and dropped the topcoat and fedora on the couch before heading into the kitchen and snapping on the overhead light.
Pulling his tie even looser, he opened the fridge door and looked in, trying to locate something to eat that didn't require cooking. Finding nothing, he opened the meat keeper drawer and took out a packet of baloney, tossing it onto the counter then taking a loaf of bread from the breadbox.
Within seconds he had a baloney sandwich on a small plate and, with a can of beer, headed up to his bedroom. He put the plate and can on the bedside table and began to change out of his suit.
He thought back over the day, longer than he had anticipated, and the lengthy meeting with Newman and Jenkins that had ended less than a half hour ago. They were still getting no cooperation from any of the suspects they'd arrested, but that was to be expected at this early stage of the investigation.
Even Danny had clammed up, and his silence about Steve Keller's presence at the pier in Sausalito was so far working in their favour. Mike felt sure that by the time the bartender did start talking, that little wrinkle would no longer be an issue.
Newman had mentioned that they had inquiries out to Interpol and other international agencies, and even Scotland Yard was certain they could help; rumour had it the brains behind the Shanghai'ing operation had a British or European connection. It would take months to get to the heart of the criminal enterprise, everyone knew, but at least now police agencies around the world were aware that such an coordinated organization was in operation once again.
Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his slippers, when he looked across the room and stopped moving. With a chuckle, he got up and crossed to the chair, picking up the thick gray Coast Guard blanket he had brought home the day before.
He headed out into the hallway to the linen closet. He was just about to put it on an upper shelf when he stopped, images suddenly flooding back. He remembered being barely conscious, cold and in pain, slowly opening his eyes to see the warm and loving eyes of his partner staring at him worriedly, and in that split second he knew he was safe.
Mike chuckled self-consciously, realizing he was hugging the blanket to his chest, and he reached up to put it on the top shelf, one hand lingering on it before he took a step back and closed the door.
# # # # #
Steve was standing at the stove, sautéing a pan of peppers and onions as he leafed through the current issue of Rolling Stone on the counter beside him. Without taking his eyes from the page, he reached out with his free hand to pick up the glass of white wine and take a sip.
He flipped a page in the magazine and froze, his attention caught by a full-page ad. He stared at the models for a moment, then quickly turned off the stove, dropped the spatula into the pan and hustled from the kitchen, across the living room to the closet near the front door.
His leather jacket was hanging with the other coats and whatnot, and he pulled it out. He reached into the inside breast pocket, releasing a held breath with a relieved chuckle. Moving carefully, he withdrew his hand slowly and stared at the crushed gold-framed glasses.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had no idea why but suddenly the mangled eyewear had become very precious to him, and he knew he would have to find a safe place to keep them, a talisman whose meaning only he would understand.