The constant pounding of the rain against the window of the small office only added to the gloomy atmosphere that permeated the entire Homicide bureau. The new year was only a few days old but already a deep foreboding, and the worrisome promise of a challenging year, seemed to be seeping into every nook and cranny of both the animate and inanimate occupants of the squad.

And everyone who carried a gold star knew they weren't alone; a gradual awareness that there was a slowly growing dissatisfaction within the patrol ranks was bubbling through the entire department.

Christmas had provided a much needed, albeit short, break for the Homicide detectives, pairs taking turns manning the office during what was usually one of the busiest times of the year. Even suicides had to be attended to and written up, and it had been an especially bad holiday season. Even the weather was unseasonably colder than usual, as if piling on.

Steve put the finishing touches on the report then ripped it out of the typewriter, glancing towards the small inner office as he did so. His partner, black reading glasses on, was leaning over the desk, seemingly intently focused on the report in front of him, but the inspector could tell, from long experience, that the older man's attention was elsewhere.

With a soft sigh, Steve leaned back in the chair as he set the report on the desk. Jeannie had left that morning to return to Arizona and school, and he knew the effect that always had on the doting father. It would take Mike a couple of days to shake off the melancholy, which he would always do. Steve's focus snapped to the window and the incessant rain; this time it might take a little longer.

He glanced at his watch. It was only a little after two but it felt much later; the shorter days, dark and dreary, seemed to drag themselves out longer and longer. Or maybe he was just getting older. He chuckled to himself as he started to get to his feet, picking up the report.

The anteroom door opened behind him and he glanced up to see Captain Will Fortier from Patrol. Grim-faced, the senior officer didn't even bother to scan the room as he crossed quickly towards the inner office. Steve watched as he stopped at the closed door and rapped sharply on the glass. Mike's head snapped up, automatically removing his glasses, and his eyes widened in surprise as he nodded. Fortier entered quickly and closed the door behind himself.

Slowly sitting back down, Steve kept his eyes on the two older men in the small office. Fortier was doing all the talking, but he could tell what he was relating to the Homicide lieutenant was not going down well. Mike looked shocked then stricken, his gaze traveling down to the desktop as he held his glasses in both hands. Eventually he raised his head slightly, his lips pursed, and he nodded.

Fortier stood silently for a moment then he nodded with a grim half-smile, turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. He crossed the bullpen the same way as he had entered, making eye contact with no one.

Steve watched him go then looked back at his partner's office again. Mike hadn't moved, still staring unseeing at the glasses in his hands. Then, seeming to sense he was being watched, he glanced up, meeting the younger man's eyes and, after a brief pause, dropped the glasses and spun the chair so he was facing the window. He raised his right hand and covered his eyes.

Concerned, Steve got up slowly and crossed to the inner office, leaving the report on his desk. Not even bothering to knock, he opened the door and stepped quietly inside, closing the door behind him before remaining there silently, waiting. He knew Mike was aware of his presence.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, the older man slowly turned the chair and met the worried green eyes. A soft, sad smile briefly lifted the corners of his mouth as he looked away.

Recognizing this as an opening, Steve stepped silently to the nearest guest chair and sat. "What's going on?" he asked softly.

Looking down, Mike snorted quietly and shook his head slightly. He inhaled deeply as he lifted his head. "Ah, one of the… one of the C.I.'s I used to use… died of exposure over on Pier 19 last night…" He shrugged and looked away, as if embarrassed.

Steve waited a bit before venturing, "And I take it you knew him…"

Mike pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah…" he whispered, "yeah, for almost twenty-five years…"

Frowning in surprise, Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, subtly closing the distance between them. "Really?"

Smiling wistfully, Mike nodded again. "Yeah, at least that long. I met him when I was walkin' a beat in the Tenderloin. He was just a couple a years older than me but he'd been living on the streets for a long time even then." He raised his eyebrows. "Booze. He couldn't shake it." He looked down again and fell silent.

"Did I ever meet him?" Steve asked after a long beat.

Without looking up, Mike shook his head. "No, I, uh… I stopped using him before we got together. He was getting less and less reliable." His gaze had turned inward and he fell silent for several seconds. "But when I was in Robbery… man, you couldn't ask for a better snitch. I closed a lot of cases because of Jake."

"Jake?"

The older man nodded then shook his head with a soft chuckle. "I never did know his last name… I never asked, you know…?"

Steve nodded in understanding. "So, ah, so why did you stop using him?"

Mike stared at him for a long second then snorted loudly. "The booze. When he was younger, even though he abused it, he never let it take over his life completely, you know. But as he got older…" He shrugged. "I tried to get him into a program more than once… you know… AA? He hated the religious aspect of it, he told me… more than once." He snorted a soft chuckle. "And he became less and less reliable… I used him for the first couple of years after I moved here to Homicide, but he wasn't much help…. And I lost touch with him after that…" He looked down and took a deep breath. "I saw him on Market a couple of years ago… at least I think it was him. He looked like he'd aged forty years."

A silence stretched out between them. Finally Steve straightened up, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "Hey, ah, listen… it's getting close to three, and we haven't had an early night in awhile. Why don't we get out of here, head over to O'Toole's and grab a couple of beers and a big, greasy burger and fries and you can tell me about some of the cases Jake helped you close… what do you say?"

Mike stared at him expressionlessly for several long seconds and it was one of the rare times Steve couldn't read his mood. Then the older man smiled and chuckled. "Yeah, I think that's a great idea…"

Steve grinned. "Good." He started to get to his feet, gesturing at the small piles of papers on the unusually cluttered desk. "Why don't you clean up here and I'll do the same and we'll take off?" He tuned towards the door, stopping and turning back when he heard his name. His partner was looking at him with a warm but wistful smile.

"Thanks, buddy boy."

Steve laughed with a disingenuous shrug. "For what? I don't know about you, but I could use a big greasy burger and a couple of Buds right about now." Still chuckling, he continued on to his desk, leaving the inner office door open.

Shaking his head, smiling to himself, Mike rolled back to the desk and began to pick up the scattered papers.

# # # # #

Laughing, Steve leaned back in the booth and almost slammed the empty beer glass onto the table. "Seriously?"

Chuckling, Mike picked up a clean napkin and wiped his mouth. "Without a word of a lie." He raised his right hand in a passing facsimile of a Boy Scout salute.

"And you got away with it?" The younger man sounded incredulous.

Mike shrugged, making a face. "Well, ah, I had to do some quick tap-dancing for the D.A. to get the warrant, but he believed me in the end and I got it." He shrugged again, chuckling.

"Horseshoes, my man, horseshoes," Steve laughed as he gestured towards the waitress, ordering another round.

Mike caught the move and shook his head. "No, no, no more for me. I still have to drive home." He frowned and pinned the younger man with a glare. "And so do you."

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. "No, not me." He raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna take a cab. And you should too. Come on, how many times do we get to… cut loose, you know?" He plastered his most charming smile on his flushed face, staring into the suddenly unreadable blue eyes.

After a long silent beat, Mike inhaled deeply. "You're not leading me down the garden path, are you?"

Steve feigned indignity. "Me? Never."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, right…" He picked up his glass and drained the last of the beer, watching Steve pick up a cold fry and pop it into his mouth. "So, ah, so what do you hear about the scuttlebutt in the ranks?"

The younger man stopped mid-chew and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. I hear it too, and I don't have nearly as many friends in the lower ranks anymore. Are they really talking strike?"

Finishing the fry, Steve leaned back, waiting for the two fresh beers to be placed on the table in front of them before he looked at the older man again. "That's what I hear."

"They know it's illegal, don't they?"

Steve shrugged slightly and shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure they do… I think some of them don't care."

Snorting in frustration, Mike leaned forward, wrapping both hands around the bottom of the fresh, cold glass. "I don't understand that." He sighed heavily and looked up. "We take an oath, all of us, to serve and protect. We give our word… doesn't that mean something anymore?"

Picking up his glass, Steve shrugged. "Well, it won't involve us anyway… just patrol."

Mike's eyebrows narrowed and he leaned forward even further. "Don't you believe that. Who do you think is going to have to fill in when the uniforms call in sick and someone has to man the streets? It won't be us but it will be senior officers and then who's gonna do their jobs…? Oh, it's gonna affect all of us, buddy boy, don't fool yourself. And that's not to mention the black eye it's gonna give all of us with the public. Imagine how hard it's gonna be to get people to cooperate with us when we've walked away from our responsibility to police the city to the fullest extent of our ability. Everything's gonna be compromised, even us."

Steve, who had sat back and listened carefully, sighed softly. "Well, let's just hope it doesn't happen… now or further down the road." He picked up his glass and held it out.

With a snort and a smile, Mike lifted his own beer and carefully clinked it against his partner's. "Here, here," he said softly, but his smile disappeared before he took a sip.