After several days of painful absence, the sun had greeted them the next morning, lighting up a sky that had produced nothing but gray, wet and dreary conditions for too long.

Even the birds seemed to enjoy the temporary reprieve; the seagulls diving low into the streets and parking lots looking for their next meal.

After the drama that had unraveled over the past few days, their morning commute led them along the Embarcadero and back to the Gashouse Cove Marina, hoping to tie up a few ends for their frightened witness, as well as the marina owner.

What should be a relaxing and somewhat low-key morning was anything but, that much Steve sensed the moment Mike got into the waiting Galaxie, his cheerful greeting missing entirely, replaced by some indiscernible grumble that sounded a lot like a night spent awake brooding- not that Steve had done any different.

The situation with Joe was bothering him greatly and he felt horrible for his friend overhearing that flippant remark about stress.

It wasn't that he didn't believe Joe. As a matter of fact, he absolutely did believe that Joe felt he was being targeted.

But at the apparent lack of leads and witnesses, it was only natural to question whether or not those feelings were perhaps…blown out of proportion?

"Watch it!", Mike yelled from the passenger side of the front bench, immediately ripping him out of his daydreams.

Ahead of them, a car was coming from the on-ramp, crossing two lanes at once, never paying attention to traffic. Steve gathered his bearings in time to swerve to the left and into the median, preventing the Galaxie from getting sideswiped by the blue sedan.

When Steve regained control of the unmarked police car, and the angry beeping of horns from behind ceased, he exhaled slowly, torn between acknowledging the embarrassing incident of driving distracted or leaving Mike to his brooding.

In the end, it was the lieutenant who cleared his throat, not showing any signs of being upset about what happened. Instead, his expression was carefully guarded as he glanced over at his partner, those blue eyes looking out from underneath the rim of the fedora glassy from hours upon hours of deep thoughts.

"It seems that we lost our Carte Blanche for the time being, buddy boy.", Mike said somberly, leaving it at that for several seconds.

Even though a fitting remark about the lieutenant's new-found eloquence was on the tip of his tongue; the underlying meaning of his words filled the cab of the Galaxie with an unmistakable sense of dread.

"They're going back to making us use a punch clock?", Steve muttered half-heartedly, as he navigated the tan sedan through the dense traffic ahead.

"Just about.", Mike scoffed in obvious discontent, "After Rudy called me at dinner time, I got a call from the Chief an hour later. He wasn't terribly excited about the…car accident on Bryant. More so, he wasn't excited to hear the name Joe Joplin associated with it."

"Aw, come on. That could have happened to anybody.", Steve argued, just to see his best friend shake his head.

"But it happened to us. And it happened at a…peculiar time, especially when it comes to Joe. I told you from the beginning that we need to…tread carefully on this one. Well, it came back to bite us in the end. The chief wants Olsen to keep a closer eye on what everyone is spending their time on, including us. They're going to be a lot pickier about who handles what case and review motor pool mileage and equipment requests and such."

"With all this reporting going on, is there going to be any more time to left to do our jobs?", Steve countered, unable to hide his sour undertone.

"I'm sore about this too, believe me. That's not how I was planning on spending my evening.", reaching over to pat his thigh, Mike smiled sadly, trying to calm tempers in a situation that was so utterly out of their control.

"I guess you're going to have to tell your friend Joe that his case is being reassigned."

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary.", Steve replied cryptically, immediately drawing in his partner's interest.

"And how is that?"

"Oh, let's just say that he's lost all faith in our work and is going to…handle matters himself from now on."

A disbelieving grunt was the only thing coming from Mike's side for the longest time, turning their journey north into an awkward silent treatment.

Even though Steve knew that what he said would make his partner put the puzzle pieces together, thus causing more irritation about what happened last night; he didn't begrudge saying it.

He wasn't going to keep secrets from his best friend and even if he tried, it would be in vain.

While he understood some of Conden's frustration, Steve spent more time out on the streets than in the office, interacting with the very people they'd all sworn to protect in this town. And if those people needed saving from whatever threats there were, he'd still help, not caring whether it was his department or not.

"So, you decided to make things worse and duke it out with Joplin yourself? After I told you to go home?"

It wasn't an accusation as much as it was outward disappointed that seeped through each of those carefully articulated words, purposefully making them sting.

Remaining quiet while he passed a semi on the left, Steve tried to come up with a fitting answer, anything that would justify his lax behavior, but failed miserably. Sometimes, the things his heart made him do were too complex to put into words.

"I just meant for it to be a welfare check. I wanted to see if he'd gotten more phone calls. Corby was there, we started talking and he overheard me saying that…you know, maybe his stress level had something to do with it. He took it as me not believing him and pretty much kicked me out of the house."

"Mhm.", Mike replied, before falling quiet again, "Well…do you believe him?"

Even though he looked straight ahead, Steve sensed his partner's eyes on him and shrugged indifferently.

"I believe that he believes it. I also don't believe in coincidences and think there's a chance that everything he said is exactly how it went down. But given the circumstances, I can't help but wonder about the tricks a busy mind can play on its owner, especially after that whole situation with…Yale."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Joe is young, too young for something like that. But we've seen far younger folks with mental health issues that drove them into Murchison's hands. Injuries, terrible accidents, death of a loved one. And he's seen his fair share. Life can be hard, and for some people, maybe it's too hard and those…those wounds upstairs can be hard to see from the outside for people like us."

"How would you have handled it? I mean, last night? If it would have been me making those claims about somebody trying to kill me?"

The honest and downright humble question pulled Mike out of his irate state and he glanced down into his lap, analyzing things in the silence of the Galaxie's cab.

"Well, I guess…under the circumstances I would have probably got Murchison involved and get you carted off to a nice padded cell."

"Mike…", Steve sighed, feigning annoyance.

"Okay, buddy boy, okay…", the Lieutenant countered facetiously, "I guess…not knowing that the chief was giving my partner the runaround at dinner time about this whole affair, I might have done something similar. Especially if it was a friend. But I wouldn't have broken the second rule of domestic engagement."

"Second rule of domestic engagement? And what is that?"

"Never talk to the wife about her husband when you don't know where he's at."

With a chuckle, Steve shook his head and wrapped his hands tighter around the leather steering wheel as he looked over at his partner.

"I guess I learned my lesson there. But now I gotta ask; what is the first rule?"

"The first rule is listen to your Lieutenant and go home, so you don't end up in a domestic situation to begin with.", Mike explained cheekily, then pointed north as he tapped his wristwatch, "Go on now, speed up a little. You're driving slower than my grandmother. We haven't got all day to get to the marina."