A/N: I recall saying something about writing something lighter. Let's see how long that lasts.

As always, enjoy.

Friday 8th January 2016, 4.41pm, Sloppy Joe's Diner, New York

Lionel Fusco was the type of man who enjoyed the finer things in life, therefore it wasn't an ordinary sloppy joe on his plate; it was A-grade grilled grounded beef on a brioche bun with ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise neatly sitting in miniature bowls on the side. The curly fries he enjoyed so much were fried twice and a stack of gherkins stood on a bed of lettuce for decoration. It was a very late lunch and he was going to enjoy it…until the leather-clad thorn in his side slid into his booth.

"Missed me, Lionel?" John asked, looking down at the plate of cardiac arrest and atherosclerosis.

"Like a hernia. What d'you want?"

John's blue eyes flashed. "Who says I want something?"

"You only show up when you want something. I only see you when you want something. So, what d'you want?"

John couldn't deny it was true and today was no exception. "Tear gas."

"Do I look like riot police to you?" Fusco blinked, and chewed the white and yellow curly fry. "Any other requests?"

"I would ask you to stop eating like a human garbage disposal but I need your car. And a badge."

"Anything else, James Dean?"

He smirked. "The night is young, Lionel. Bon appetit."

5.03pm, Dr Perry's Office, Amsterdam Ave, Manhattan

For as long as she could remember Joss hated seeing the doctor and avoided going like the plague. Perhaps it was her earliest memory of having a teddy bear shook in her face while her mother held her down for immunisation shots. Or maybe it was the obstetric nurse who, without a word, took her newborn from her arms seconds after his birth. Either way she was only there because Detective Witecki had a heart attack on the job and Captain Armstrong insisted on all on-duty staff obtaining a clean bill of health before the end of the month, or as Fusco described it: "Ass-covering before the next audit." She didn't understand why the chair was so cold and sticky at the same time, or why she had to lean back or what was up with the air con. The room was so sterile she couldn't stand it.

"Let's start with the basics. Do you smoke?" Dr Perry asked, diligently ticking off the boxes on her computer screen. Although she'd recently cut her hair and had short shiny nails and sensible shoes, Joss could tell she was young, probably too young to be her doctor.

"Never."

The young doctor was only a few years out of Med School, so she believed everyone smoked something. "Anything besides cigarettes?"

Joss couldn't believe she was being put on the spot by someone she could've babysat. "Not since college…okay Law School. Not since Law School." She admitted, counting the tiles on the wall from right to left.

"Do you drink alcohol?"

"Dark liquor on occasion and red wine."

"How often?"

Whenever John's around. "About 2 or 3 times a week." Dr Perry nodded and Joss suddenly thought she could skip the questionnaire altogether and speed this thing along. "Look, I work out three times a week, sometimes four, and I get a lot of exercise on the job, I eat healthy, most of the time, and I don't use drugs. My blood pressure's normal unless my son calls me from college asking for money and my-"

"It's okay, Ms Carter. I know you're in good health."

"So you'll sign me off?" She asked, eyeing the door.

"Not just yet."

She sighed deeply. "It's the Pap smear, right? I know I'm late but it's hard to keep an appointment when you work homicide. Dead people don't keep a schedule."

"I can relate."

For some reason that was enough for Joss to sit back. "So what is it?"

"You're pregnant."

Joss shook her head like she had a nervous tick. "No. My son's out of the house. And I'm 44, a cop, and I just signed up for one of those crazy workout classes, so…I don't think so."

Dr Perry looked down at her chart. "Your HcG levels say something different, Ms Carter." Joss felt far more flawed than pregnant. "Would you like some pamphlets, to consider your options?" She was stunned silent. "Or, you could just sit here for a while and I'll bring you some water."

Joss nodded limply as though her head was being pulled up and down by a string. The chilled water hit her clenched throat and several thoughts ran through her head. "It took years to have my son. Years. He's 18 now."

The doctor couldn't relate but she took enough patient-doctor relations seminars to know that she needed reassurance and a listening ear. "Which college?"

"Emory." Joss managed to say between sips.

"Ah, Atlanta. My ex went to DeVry; should've been my first sign."

It was working; it made her feel at ease, surprising for a doctor who probably still got carded. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Honestly, you're in great shape. One of my patients just had her first at 41; perfect health.

"The baby or the mom?"

Although she looked calm and collected her shaking foot showed she wasn't alright. "Both. Is there someone you'd like to call?"

"Nope, I'll be fine."

"Then we'll book you in for a dating scan."

"A dating scan?" She repeated, she couldn't remember having one the first time around, in fact most of it was a blur.

"To find out how far along you are."

She could feel the acid reflux coming up and tried to clear her throat. "Yeah, of course."

"And the pamphlets?"

"It's okay, I already know what I'm gonna do."