It's been awfully quiet here and it's good to be back. I hope everyone had a safe thanksgiving. It's been a long and brutal year on the farm, but we are finally winding down. Please enjoy this story, may it bring you peace and happiness during the holiday season
This is the follow up to the story I published earlier, "Hyenas". I will go ahead and republish the last chapter as this story's first, since it will matter in the storyline.
Early Season 2 (Mike, Steve, Devitt, Haseejian, Condon, Jeannie )
Act I
"So…how is everything feeling?"
It sounded like such a casual question for both of them, and yet, it was anything but.
Mike had sensed the depth behind those words the moment he saw his partner enter the door to his hospital room, shoulders rigidly straight, his expression something between guarded neutrality and an ounce of overzealous curiosity.
"You look like you just ate the canary.", Mike shot back, unwilling to disguise his relief at seeing the young man again who had changed his life in so many ways over the past few years; and who, in no uncertain terms had saved it again when they were attacked.
Responding to his question with a sheepish grin, Steve came closer, his gait still wobbly from keeping weight off his injured knee.
"Lieutenant, lieutenant, always expecting the worst in everybody.", he teased and shook his head in feigned disapproval, "I just came here to see how your healing is progressing. Jeannie was worried and so-"
"Jeannie always worries.", he grunted, more cantankerously than intended, then softened his gaze as he looked at the foot of the bed, "I just got off the phone with her not too long ago, buddy boy. And to be honest, I am getting a little sore from all the ehm..the…"
"Mother-henning?", Steve tried, sensing that his partner was at a loss of words.
"Yes, that. You see, you two fussing over me like that won't make those bones heal any faster. I'll tell you what'll do the job though."
"And what might that be?"
With that gleeful smile, Steve, finally submitted to leaning against the windowsill overlooking downtown.
Mike could tell from his strained expression that there was a lot more going on than what the young man was willing to admit. Whether that had something to do with the conclusion of the Atkinson case was an entirely different conversation.
"Cutting to the chase. So I don't have to pry every last bit out of you…"
The question, intentionally to the point, made Steve fall uncomfortably quiet and Mike used the opportunity to turn around in his bed, moving every part of his body very slowly, in hopes of facing his partner better.
"Cutting to the chase…", the young inspector muttered, hoping to buy time.
"That's right. What's bothering you? You look like somebody poured salt in your coffee."
As if to contemplate the figure of speech, Steve leaned farther back, then rested his head against the windowpane. From his spot in the bed, Mike watched him swallow, then open his mouth as if to say something, before shrugging dismissively.
"Nothing…really. I just wanted to make sure you are ok. Last time…well…before they sent me off to the safe house, you didn't look nearly as good. And phone calls can be deceiving so I thought I'd…I'd check on you. Make sure you listen to the nurses and get out of here soon."
"I'll be out of here in a couple of days so if you think that you guys can just do whatever you want in that bullpen, well, you are running out of time."
Steve never acknowledged the joke. Instead, he nodded somberly, then pointed his chin at the cast on his left arm.
"You had a brain bleed. And internal bleeding. Several broken bones. Contusions…it's just been a few days. Don't you think you should hang low for a little bit longer? For the sake of letting your body heal?"
"Jeannie put you up to this, didn't she?", Mike insinuated, seeing the answer in Steve's eyes before the young man could reply.
"We're all worried that you will brush this off like it's no big deal. But it is. I mean, you nearly died, Michael."
He hesitated when he heard his partner's voice break when using his full first name, seeing the strain in the muscles of his jaws and in those traumatized green eyes that kept sneaking glances at his injuries, then rushing back to the floor, staring at things only Steve could see.
"Well, I'm not dead.", he replied stubbornly and shook his head, "And yes, this was a pretty bad scrape we went through, you and I; but it's nothing that hasn't happened before. Now, don't you let something like that throw you all the way off course."
The gentle mentoring seemed to help when Steve nodded hesitantly, then played with the sleeve of his expensive dress coat.
"Well, it's good to see that your temper has finally returned."
The remark didn't rise to the level of mockery Mike had anticipated. As such, he reduced his reply to a simple headshake, hoping it would cause his partner to snap out of that heightened state of anxiety.
He had to admit, on the outside, he did look like a busted-up mess. But despite the severity of his injuries, he felt alright, almost comfortable- as long as he didn't move much.
Experiencing all the gut-wrenching fear that this incident had caused over and over again had made him edgy, impatient. He wanted to get out of here, the sooner the better, say goodbye to these bland walls and everything that happened these past few days…and get back to work.
And he wanted to hug Jeannie.
No matter how often he'd reassured her that he was fine, and that she should stay in Tuscan and study hard, he was longing for her presence more than ever now.
Most of all, he was longing for normality.
Letting this incident derail them would only empower those who were responsible, and he refused to give in to that terror.
"Maybe you should…take it a bit easy yourself yet. That…that knee…you're favoring it a lot.", Mike added, throwing the ball in the other court- or so he thought.
"My knee is almost back to normal. We're all just worried about you. The guys in the bullpen are considering renaming you from Iron Mike to something more along the lines of Plaster Cast Mike. It's got a nice ring to it if you ask me."
"It sure does, doesn't it?", he joined in, adding a warm smile in hopes of taking the grim undercurrent out of what should be a lighthearted conversation.
And yet it seemed no matter what trick in the book he used, he could not wipe the seriousness off his young partner's face.
He was about to continue his barrage of positive reinforcement when the squeaking of a door pulled him out of his engaged conversation.
Steve fell quiet instantly, his eyes darting to the direction of the hallway as though he expected the devil himself to enter.
Instead, it was somebody Mike hadn't seen in over twenty years.
"Bobbie Parker. Well, I'll be. What are you doing here? You're not back to patrols, are you?"
His enthusiasm seemed to settle Steve down and the young inspector followed their exchange intrigued, never moving from his spot by the window.
"Michael, Michael. What is it I hear about you? Taking on a bunch of young punks?
Careful not to move his aching upper body too much, Mike gestured toward Steve, then his old friend.
"Steve, this is Bobbie Parker. Bobbie and I have known each other for a long time. He used to run patrols up by Fisherman's Wharf. We called him our tourist guide. He'd give directions to people visiting the city while we were booking thugs down in the Tenderloin. Bobbie, this is my partner, Inspector Stephen Keller."
The insightful introduction did the job to snap the young man out of his subdued state and he reached forward to shake hands, using his free one to stabilize against the window.
Bobbie, a stout 6' 2" dark hair with a strong, sinewy body noticed the same thing but decided not to say anything. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and stepped deeper into the room, taking a shallow breath before speaking up again.
"I was actually just in the area when I'd seen Devitt out in the waiting room looking like death warmed over. He told me what went down so I thought I'd give you a couple of days to come back to the world of the living before checking on you. It's good to see you again, my friend."
"Well, it's good to see you again as well, Bobbie…", Mike replied cheerfully, then reached out his injured hand for a gentle shake, "I can't believe how long it's been. What are you up to now anyways? Last I heard you had ehm…traded in the badge for a suit and tie and joined the…the sales sector."
"Something like this, I guess."
Beneath the downtrodden undertone, Mike could sense something else, and he didn't like it one bit.
"Come on now, Bobbie, level with me. What's going on?"
"I tried myself in sales for while, that's true. It was magazine subscriptions, if you can believe that. I needed a break from walking the beat and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But in the end, I was wrong for thinking that my experience on the streets would help with getting into people's apartments to sell my goods. I guess I just didn't have the…the moxie for it."
"Now, that's alright.", Mike replied with a cheery smile, "We can't all be good at everything. Not even you."
In return he received an amicable grin that he remembered so fondly from the olden days.
"Your words in God's ear, Michael, but the banks didn't think the same way. So when money got tight, they became my worst enemy."
Feeling the sting in his gut from realizing what had happened to the jovial and kind man he'd known years ago, Mike's smile faded into a tense frown, as he waited for his friend to continue.
"I fell so far behind on my mortgage that the bank repossessed my house. I had to get all my stuff out by last Friday. Been staying with a friend ever since."
"Bobbie, I am sorry to hear that…", he began, only to see the other man wave him off.
"It's all part of life, you know. I was never cut out to be the marrying type with kids and a house. I guess that makes me more flexible in dealing with this…"
"You're not going to deal with this alone, I'll tell you that much…", Mike began his poignant speech, even though his body was beginning to remind him of the rest he still needed, "I'll be out of here in a couple of days so why don't you room with me for a while, eh? Just you and I. Jeannie is off to college and there's plenty of room in the old house."
"Michael, I can't…" the other man began, only to be met with a gaze that left no room for arguments.
"Yes, you can.", Mike insisted and pointed a stern finger at his friend, "In return, I am assigning you to coffee duty in the morning. See if I can't help steer your life in a better direction again. How does that sound? Let's call it New Beginnings."