Well, we've come to the end of 'The Road' - and I would like to thank all of those who took the journey with me. It's been a lot of fun - and I hope a good read. Your loyalty means a lot - to me and 'our boys'.

Steve followed Mike into the bustling bullpen, stopping at his desk and taking his notebook out of his pocket before removing his jacket as the older man continued on to his office. A couple of the others looked up from their desks, trying to hide their smiles; it was great to have the pair back to work again and, even though it had already been a couple of days, the novelty had yet to wear off.

Mike was hanging his hat on the rack when the phone on his desk rang and he crossed around to the chair side to answer it, continuing to stand as he tucked the receiver under his chin and slid his .38 off his belt and put it in the top drawer. "Homicide, Stone."

Steve smiled warmly to himself as he sat, tossing the notebook on the desk and flipping it open. Several minutes later, with Mike still on the phone, he was stretching and extending his legs straight out under his desk when his foot hit something. With a curious frown, he pushed his chair back and looked under the desk.

"Oh jeez," he whispered to himself as he got onto his knees and reached to the back of the well to pull out a cardboard box. Getting back into the chair, he glanced guiltily towards the inner office. He waited till Mike hung up the phone then picked up the box and crossed to the glass door.

"Important?" he asked, nodding at the phone with his chin as he stood in the doorway.

Mike glanced down at the phone than back up. "No, no, just housekeeping stuff, you know." He nodded towards the box. "What've you got there?"

"Ah, this, yes, ah," Steve hesitated before moving deeper into the office and putting the box on the desk, "when, ah, when Gallagher was, well, you know, I knew he was going to be using your office and I thought I'd pack up your personal stuff for safe keeping." He looked at Mike contritely. "I put it under my desk and kinda forgot about it."

Silently, Mike reached out and brought the box closer, slowly taking the lid off. He reached in and picked up the small framed photo of Jeannie. "I was wondering where all this stuff went, but I kept forgetting to ask." He set the photo down in its usual spot on the desk then started removing the other items and putting them in the drawers. "Thanks, buddy boy. That was very thoughtful of you." His tone was genuine and any fear Steve may have had that in forgetting to return the items he had incurred his boss's wrath, he knew he was quite wrong.

Dan Healey poked his head in the door. "Hey, Mike, someone dropped this off for you at the front desk." He held an envelope out. Steve grabbed it and passed it to Mike, who took it with raised eyebrows. Both Dan and Steve shrugged before Dan disappeared back into the bullpen.

Mike looked at the envelope. "Nothing on it," he said as he took a letter opener from the top drawer and slit it open. He removed the one sheet, which Steve could see was typewritten, fished his glasses out of his pocket and sat back to read. Steve watched his face closely but couldn't decipher a thing from his partner's neutral expression.

Suddenly, Mike laughed abruptly and looked up, surprised. "Buddy boy, we're going to dinner."

"What?"

Mike held up the letter. "Well, it turns out Rocco Costantini – you remember him?"

"Yeah, maybe not as… up close and personal as you, but yeah," Steve said with a chuckle

"Ha ha. Well, it turns out he owns a half share in 'Troiani', that fancy Italian place down near the Wharf, and he's invited us to dinner to," Mike looked at the letter, "to 'begin to repay you for the grief and pain I so inadvertently caused you and your partner during the unfortunate incident in the courthouse.'" Mike stared at him with wide eyes and a goofy grin. "He's going to pick up the tab for a dinner for both of us and our families, drinks included, anything we want, anytime we want." He laughed. "Hey, not bad, hunh?"

"Let me see that," Steve said with a grin, reaching for the letter.

Mike sat back with a surprised smile. "Well, we're just going to have to pick a night, 'cause I am definitely going to take him up on his offer. You?"

"Are you kidding? A free meal, on my salary? I never turn down one of those." Steve handed the letter back with a chuckle. "Hunh, too bad he's only going to get dinged for three of us, this could've cost him big time."

"You could bring a date."

Steve glanced up and tilted his head slightly. "I'm not dating right now." But as thoughts of Beth Daniels flashed through his mind, he couldn't resist a warm smile.

Mike frowned, curious, and made a mental note to ask his young partner about it sometime in the near future. "Say, ah, you better start earning that salary, Inspector," Mike gestured vaguely towards the outer office, pulling Steve out of his reverie. "Don't we have an open case or three right now?"

"Getting right back to work, Lieutenant," Steve said with a laugh, standing quickly and pretending to race back to his desk. Mike watched him go with a laugh, then picked up the letter and put it back in the envelope.

# # # # #

At the end of a very long day, Steve swung the tan sedan from 10th onto Bryant; they were heading back to the Hall before finally going home. They were still basking in the wonderful glow from the previous night's repast at Rocco Costantini's restaurant. It had turned out to be a memorable night, with Rocco as their gracious host. The food was extraordinary, the wine perfect and the company nonpareil.

They hadn't spoken for several minutes when Steve glanced across the front seat and cleared his throat. "Ah, listen, Mike," he began tentatively, "I know things have been, well, they've been great since we both got back, but, ah, I, ah, I think I still owe you an apology."

Mike had turned to look at him, his expression neutral. "For what?" he asked softly.

Steve glanced at him once more, his brow furrowing. "You know for what. What I said to you at your place –"

"You don't have to apologize," Mike interrupted gently. "Steve, we all say things in anger sometimes that we don't really mean, things we wish we could take back the second they leave our mouths. Lord knows I've done it before, probably more times than I'd care to admit." He chuckled then reached out to briefly touch the younger man's arm. "You don't have to apologize." He watched as his partner swallowed heavily and nodded, concentrating on the road, though Mike could see the sudden brightness in his eyes.

"Thanks," Steve whispered, and Mike smiled.

"Hey, ah," the older man said quickly, trying to change the uncomfortable topic, "you never did tell me what happened in the Parker case. Was he convicted?"

"Oh, jeez, yeah, I almost forgot about that, it was so long ago. Yeah, he was found guilty. Gerry was great, he said I had a lot to do with it, so that was, ah, that was good. Really good."

They had reached the Hall and he turned in, looking for a parking spot in the outdoor lot. Finding one, he slid the Galaxy to a stop and they got out. They made their way up to the Homicide office, going to their respective desks before, hopefully, heading back out and going home.

Mike found a message taped to his phone to call Captain Olsen as soon as possible, so he sat with a heavy sigh and started to dial.

There were no messages on Steve's desk, but there were two official SFPD envelopes, both marked "Personal and Confidential'. Sitting, he took the letter opener out of his top drawer and slit the first one open. He pulled out the single white sheet, opened it and started to read.

Mike finished his phone call and hung up the receiver. He was just about to yell into the bullpen that he was ready to go when he glanced up and froze. Steve was sitting at his desk, holding a letter loosely in his hand, staring into space; another half-folded letter sat on his desk. Mike smiled warmly, sitting back and dropping his head.

Slowly, Steve got up and crossed to the inner office door, both letters in his hand. His eyes were bright, and Mike could tell he was having a very hard time keeping his emotions under control.

The younger man leaned against the doorframe and brought his free hand up to cover his mouth. Mike heard him sniff and saw the tears standing out brightly in his eyes. With a warm smile, Mike held out his hand and Steve took a step closer into the room and handed him one of the letters.

Fishing out his glasses and putting them on, Mike began to read, already pretty confident he knew what this was about. His features creased into a broad grin as he read, then looked up with raised eyebrows. "You deserve this, you know. It isn't everyday an assistant inspector is single-handedly responsible for discovering the M.O. of a mass murderer. If the Department hadn't nominated you for a commendation, I would have gone after the FBI."

"So you're responsible for this?" Steve asked quietly, pointing at the letter in Mike's hand.

"No, no no," Mike shook his head emphatically. "I endorsed the idea, but I didn't originate it."

Steve stared at him, not quite believing the denial. He reached out and took the paper out of Mike's hand, then passed over the second letter. "I know you had something to do with this one," he said softly.

Mike met the green eyes evenly then looked down at the white bond in his hand. It was an official letter from Personnel and his gaze fell immediately to the pertinent sentence: "This is to inform you that the following: Inspector Steven Keller has been designated/added as Next of Kin to: Lieutenant Michael Stone…"

Mike swallowed heavily and looked up. Steve was chewing on his lower lip, the tears threatening to fall. Mike shrugged and smiled warmly. "Hey, it, ah, it was the least I could do."

Steve returned the smile. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Well, let's just hope we don't need to use it, right?" Mike chuckled gently then he cleared his throat a little louder then necessary. "Hey, ah, I don't know about you but I'm starving. Why don't we get out of here and go pick up something and bring it back to my place? On me. I'll give Jeannie a call and see if she's had dinner yet. What do you say?"

Steve grinned and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Then it's a deal." Mike picked up the phone and began to dial.

Steve crossed back to his desk, folding the letters and returning them to their envelopes. He put them in his top drawer then turned and watched his partner through the glass walls of the inner office. Mike's smile when he talked to his daughter was always a welcoming sight.

Steve turned and sat on his desk. He thought back over the past two months or so, the ups and downs he'd had to weather, the anger, the fear and the doubt that had so dominated his life. Now that it was finally over and he was back where he was supposed to be, a warm contentment washed over him, the innate understanding that this is where he was supposed to be at this time in his life, and that this was one of the people he was destined to share this life with, for as long as the fates would allow.

He looked back up at his partner and smiled.