Backstories

"Are you texting turducken to Henry?" Jackson asks as he meets up with John in the locker room.

"Uh huh," John admits. "How did you know?"

"We were DMing about it."

"What?"

"Direct messaging on Twitter. I think it's a great idea. My mother and I would have loved it if my Dad had some way of letting us know he was safe every day back when he was still out on the street. I know what a turducken is. Mom made one when we had a lot of family over for Christmas one year. But Henry said something about a cat. What does a cat have to do with it?"

John's eyes focus beyond Jackson. "My ex, Sarah, has never been big on cooking. When Henry started elementary school, she decided that it was time that she went back to work. It wasn't just that Henry wasn't a baby anymore, my business wasn't doing well, and we needed the money. She hadn't had a job since we were in college and really wanted to get back in the swing of things, so she decided to invite some of her co-workers over for a dinner party. She thought turducken sounded impressive but not too difficult to put together and decided to take a stab at making one. I encouraged her, which was a mistake.

"It turned out that it was a lot harder than either one of us thought because you have to get the bones out of the birds. We had all three of them up on the counter. I was working on the turkey. She broke a bone in the chicken and managed to spear her hand with it.

"We had this huge cat, Andre, named for Andre the Giant. I had Henry at work with me one day when Sarah wasn't feeling well, and Andre was prowling around my construction site. Henry fed him part of a tuna fish sandwich I'd packed for his lunch. Usually, cats don't bond with people, but Andre took to Henry, and we ended up taking him home.

"Mostly, Andre was an outside cat who had an unfortunate habit of hunting birds and leaving tributes of bird parts on our front step. He was inside that day because there had been an ice storm and Henry was afraid that Andre would get frozen or hurt outdoors. I guess the minute Andre smelled those birds, he must have regarded them as his feline prey. While I was helping Sarah stop the bleeding in her hand, Andre jumped up, clamped his mouth on the wing of the chicken and dragged it off.

"Sarah was furious, but I calmed her down and promised I'd go to the store and get her another chicken. I said that if the butcher was on duty, I might even be able to get it boned for her.

"She and I made the turducken. It was a little dry. I think we roasted it too long. But dinner wasn't bad, and a couple of our guests became friendly with Sarah, so the whole thing would have been a success except that the raw chicken that Andre ate was contaminated with salmonella. Henry's poor cat got sick as a dog. Not only did we get a considerable vet's bill that we could barely manage to pay, but Andre made messes all over the house. Henry helped to clean them up, and it wasn't a fun time for any of us, least of all Andre. But Andre recovered, and Sarah's hand healed. So turducken means everything ends up all right."

"I get it," Jackson acknowledges, "but I can't remember anything like that happening in my family. My dad never cooked with my mother. He and I would make stuff together when we went on survival hikes, but the only time Mom will let him help her is if she needs him to carry something heavy, like the turkey at Thanksgiving."

"Why do you think that is?" John wonders.

"I'm not sure, but I think it has to do with Dad being a cop, especially when he was on the street every day. Her kitchen is her safe zone. She worried about him a lot, but you've had enough to do with him now to know that he lives and breathes police work."

"And he's very good at it," John declares, recalling the little things Commander West noticed that gave lie to John's claim of being alone when he was attacked in Ben's guest house. John guesses that the Commander figured out that Lucy or at least some woman was there, but let it go when John charged in to help rescue Jackson and the cops with him, who were about to be killed.

"He is," Jackson agrees. "He made commander in record time. Mom was relieved when he moved up and wouldn't be on the street much anymore, but she's angry at him because she thinks he pushed me into police work."

"Did he?" John queries.

"I don't think so. I can't remember a time when I didn't admire what Dad was doing. But Mom got really upset at both of us when I decided to follow in his footsteps. I guess it was bad enough worrying about him, but she has a tough time worrying about both of us."

"Maybe you need a West Family turducken," John suggests.

"If I thought Mom wanted to hear from me, I'd come up with one right now, but she hardly wants to talk to me, and she really hates seeing Dad and me together. I can't even take them to dinner. I want to fix it John, but I don't know how. I can't quit being a cop. I told you before; I don't have a plan 'B'"

John sinks down on the bench in front of the lockers. "Yeah, there are some things you just can't fix. If there weren't, I'd still be married to Sarah and Henry wouldn't have to get on a plane to come and see me." John pulls on his favorite plaid shirt, drawing comfort from its familiarity. "You want to go get a beer?"

"I promised Lucy I'd meet her for the karaoke competition. It's the semi-finals, and we're going to rock it. But you should come along and cheer us on. That waitress who was hitting on you will probably be there."

John usually leaves the shirt open, but he buttons it up. "I can do without the badge bunny. My life is complicated enough right now. But I'll watch you and Lucy kick ass at the microphones."

Jackson claps John on the shoulder. "Great!"

Lucy and Jackson are harmonizing perfectly, but John doesn't recognize the song. That's par for the course. He doesn't know at least half of what they sing, but they sound terrific together.

Lucy sounds terrific by herself, too. It was the first thing that caught John's attention about her, at the academy. She was singing "Against All Odds," an appropriate enough song, while she was working out with weights. Better still, it was one he'd actually heard before and liked it. John spent 20 years hefting construction supplies and has the biceps to show for it, but he couldn't figure how she had the air to lift and sing at the same time - especially that well. He was impressed and offered to be her spotter. He was even more impressed by her prowess when they sparred, which they started doing regularly. While she had him flat on his back and was straddling his hips, a kiss had seemed the most natural thing in the world. But getting it on with each other was something rookies were not supposed to do. The fact that they sneaked around only made their assignations more exciting.

When they graduated from the academy, while their relationship may not have been the best idea, it wasn't against regulations, unless it created a conflict of interest. If Grey had known they were together, he might have made the case that it did, after John left Bishop to rush in to save Lucy. But at least according to Captain Andersen, John saved two lives, and Grey had to let it drop. He still didn't know how Bishop figured out that he was with Lucy, but Talia insisted that the liaison would damage Lucy's career. Maybe. Women in the L.A.P.D, like Bishop, Lopez, and the captain, seem to be able to more than handle whatever the cop old boy network dumps on them. The real problem was that he and Lucy both lied to keep their relationship secret.

John had always told Henry that the one thing he couldn't tolerate was lying. He should have taken his own advice. The falsehoods that bound him to Lucy had ended up not only ripping them apart but threatening both their careers. Commander West could have nailed both him and Lucy to the wall.

So now he's back to just watching Lucy sing. That's fine, it's really for the best. He only has to keep telling himself that. And if he doesn't, both Ben and Bishop will remind him on a regular basis. It's a bit lonely, that's all. He turns to gaze at the server who's taking the drink order at the next table, the one who'd slipped him her phone number on a napkin. She smiles expectantly, her over-plucked eyebrows rising.

He can't do it. He can't just fall into bed with a woman, no matter how enthusiastic she is. If there's anything he's learned, it's that there has to be something there, something real. It will have to be more than a great singing voice or the ability to pin him to the mat. He's never had a true soulmate. Sarah was fun in college, but if she hadn't become pregnant with Henry, he never would have proposed to her. Other than their shared love for their son, they never completely meshed. Lucy couldn't fill the empty places in his being, either. Maybe the woman his heart is searching for is out there somewhere, and when he doesn't have to concentrate so hard on surviving while learning how to be a good cop, he'll be able to find her.

John takes a last swig of his beer, leaves some money on the table for a tip, and heads for home.