I had hoped to have this ready for Memorial Day but didn't quite make it. So I figured the 4th of July would be a good substitute. :) Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow.

As usual, if you recognize it from the show, I don't own it.

Chapter 1

Detectives Joss Carter and Lionel Fusco stood across from each other looking down at the body at their feet. In perfect synchronization, they looked up at each other and then turned their heads to view the apartment buildings that surrounded the playground where they stood.

Fusco sighed, "Wanna bet everyone saw the shooting but no one saw nuthin'?"

Carter frowned, "Fusco, in this neighborhood, it's par for the course."

Lionel grunted his agreement and stepped back so the ME could finish examining the body.

"You got preliminary time of death for us, CeCe?" he asked the woman.

"From the liver temp, I'll say time of death was four to five hours ago," CeCe replied as she tossed a braid over her shoulder. "Looks like he took five slugs to the chest, fired from fairly close range but not in contact."

"Could be a drug deal gone bad or an argument between friends or any one of a dozen scenarios," Lionel said grumpily.

Joss sighed, "We better get to it then." She turned to the uniform who had called in the body, "This is your beat; you recognize him?"

The uniform nodded, "Yeah, street name's Little Loco. Real name is Lyle something. He was just starting an exciting career as a money runner for one of the local dope dealers. He's got a long record of petty crimes. I've run him in several times myself."

"Real solid citizen there, can't imagine why he wound up in a bag," Fusco sniffed as he watched the ME zip up the body bag. He turned to his partner, "You ready to go bang on some doors?"

Carter nodded, "Let's get it over with." Quickly she assigned the various uniforms to each building that had a view of the playground, leaving the building closest to the crime scene for her and Fusco. Then she and her partner trudged over to the building to begin the tedious process of going to door to door looking for witnesses.

Fusco and Carter entered the building lobby. It was a two story building that, like every other building in the neighborhood, had seen better days... about thirty years ago. The paint was chipped, the linoleum was cracked and the hallways were covered in graffiti. Both of them knew the odds of finding someone who saw the crime and would be willing to talk to the police were slim, but they had to try. You never knew when you might get lucky.

Fusco headed for the stairs, "I'll take the top floor." And he vanished up the steps.

Carter started knocking on doors. No one appeared to be home in the first couple of apartments, no one answered the door at her knock and she heard no sounds coming from inside.

The third door was answered by a Hispanic man who looked to be in his sixties in a wheelchair because he was missing most of his left leg. To Carter's surprise, he seemed delighted to see her.

"It's not every day a pretty girl comes knocking! Come on in!" he smiled cheerfully.

"Um, NYPD, sir. I'm here about the shooting on the playground," Carter was completely caught off guard by the man's cheerful greeting. She showed him her badge but the man barely glanced at it.

"Aw, shucks, I was hoping I was getting a date! But you can come in anyway," the man's cheerful demeanor was not the least bit diminished by Carter's badge. He opened the door wide and Carter stepped in the small studio apartment that held a bed, a small kitchenette along one wall, a TV and a dinette set with a table and two chairs.

Carter held out her hand to the man, "I'm Detective Carter."

"Alejandro Padilla, Call me Paddy," the man's handshake was feeble and Joss could tell he was quite sick. Her suspicions were confirmed when he let loose with a terrible hacking cough. He burst into laughter and another bout of coughing when he saw the look of concern on Carter's face.

"Don't worry, worse than it sounds," he finally managed to rasp out with a very dry laugh. "Just kiddin', I'll be fine."

Carter sincerely doubted that was case, but decided not to press the point. Arguing might set off another round of coughing and she didn't want to watch Paddy lose a lung right here in front of her.

"Well I hope you feel better soon," Carter said, though she had a feeling that he was probably terminal. Even if he wasn't, access to health care in this poor, run-down area was sketchy at best; there was only one small free clinic within a twenty block radius.

"Thanks, ma'am. Now I suppose you are here about the shooting last night?" Paddy asked politely.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Carter decided to sit in one of the chairs from the small dinette so she would be in on the same level as Paddy in his wheelchair.

"I didn't see much. I heard the shots and looked out the window but the punk was already down and the shooter was running away."

"Did you get good look at him?"

"Not great. I can tell you that it was a white guy, around five ten or eleven, medium build, blonde with blue jeans and a brown leather jacket. Some of the local boys had a problem with some Russians the other day, so I'm assuming it was one of them."

"Problem with the Russians? Can you tell me more about that?"

"I don't know too much, except that I saw a couple of Russian dudes screaming at some of the local punks the other day. I don't speak Russian, but the few English words I heard sounded like they felt cheated on some deal."

"Can you identify the guys in the argument?"

"I got a good enough look at them to pick them out of a line up if that's what you mean."

Carter smiled; they might actually crack this case after all; she had expected it to wind up in the cold case files. "Yeah that's exactly what I mean. Would you mind looking at some mug shots down at the precinct?"

Paddy laughed which set off another round of coughing, "Do I look I have anything better to do?"

"Paddy, when was the last time you saw a doctor?" Carter was quite concerned about this man.

"I was at the VA just the other day. Nothing they can do for me, honey. I'm dying."

"You're a veteran?"

Paddy sat up straight in his chair, "I was an Army Ranger. Did three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. Last tour is where I lost my leg. IED."

Carter nodded, "I did a couple of tours myself."

"You were in the Army?"

"I was an Interrogator."

"No kidding? You know any Rangers?"

Carter hesitated, for a second, thinking of John Reese. "Yeah, a few."

Paddy grabbed a photo album and opened it to a picture of Ranger unit, "These were my boys! That's where I got the nickname Paddy. O'Hara here," he tapped his finger on a corporal, "Decided that I drank like an Irishman, so he named me Paddy and the name stuck."

Carter looked the photo over then idly began turning pages while Paddy kept up a running commentary on who was who in all the photos and where they were taken. Then she turned another page and froze.

Staring back at her from the past was John. He was walking, his body partially turned towards the camera with his head turned so he was looking directly into the camera. He had been caught mid-stride with his helmet in one hand and his rifle in the other. He was smiling, a real, wide genuine smile, not his usual smirk. His hair was coal black without a trace of the silver that was now on his temples and scattered through his hair. His eyes didn't hold that haunted look that Joss saw so often, this John wasn't sad, or grim or hard. This John hadn't been damaged by years of Black Ops and CIA service. This John was happy and whole.

With a stab of regret, she realized that she would never know this John.

Paddy noticed her reaction to the picture and to Joss's relief, misinterpreted it. "Oh you like Sergeant Davis? All the girls did."

Joss managed to smile. "He was a real ladies man?" she asked shyly.

"Naw, Sarge was always surprised the girls liked him, but they all did. They'd get a look at those eyes of his and that's it, they wouldn't even look at the rest of us."

Joss smiled, "He's a good looking man. I can see why he got the girls." He owns this girl, she thought.

"Sarge took care of us all. He took this wet behind the ears recruit and saved my bacon more than once. He was a good man."

Still is, Joss thought to herself, reaching out to run her fingers wistfully over the photograph. She wished she could have known this John.

Then something Paddy said hit her. "Wait, if you were a young recruit when the war started…" her voice trailed off unsure how to say it.

Paddy finished the job for her, "I must be younger than I look. Yes, ma'am, this is the result of some hard living and some poor health. I'm thirty six years old."

Carter barely managed to keep from staring. "Oh," was all she managed to say.

Paddy shrugged, "It's my own damn fault. Once I lost my leg, I got hooked on painkillers washed down with a couple of bottles of vodka a day. Tried every drug out there, some more than once, whatever I could get my hands, mostly. My family got tired of dealing with me and didn't want me around, so I was homeless up 'til last year."

"Why didn't you go to the VA?"

"Too proud and too mad. I didn't want to stop drinkin' and usin'."

"So what changed your mind?"

"I finally just decided that I wanted to stop. But by then it was too late." Another hacking cough tore through Paddy's body. "By the time I got to the VA, I had cancer. The doc thought I'd had it for a couple of years and it'd had plenty of time to spread. I probably got more cancer cells in my body than I have regular cells at this point."

Carter felt sad for this man; no one deserved this fate, especially a man who had given his limb in the service of his country. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

"I've made my peace with it. Doc thinks I have a few months to live. At least I'm off the streets, got my own little place here. I'm comfortable."

Carter realized that she had spent far too much time with Paddy Padilla, Fusco was probably looking for her by now. She reluctantly closed the photo album and handed it back to Paddy. "It's been lovely meeting you. Will tomorrow be convenient for you to come down to the station and look through our mug shots? I can send a car for you if you'd like."

"Thanks, getting around these days is kinda tough." Paddy took the card Joss offered him. "Thanks for taking the time to talk with a stranger. I don't get many visitors."

Carter took her leave of Paddy and walked back to the playground here Fusco was impatiently waiting for her. "What took you so long?" he growled.

"I found a witness who saw the vic arguing with some Russian dudes a few days ago."

Fusco looked shocked, "Someone in this neighborhood TALKED? Wow, I guess there is first time for everything."

"Yep, he's former Army Ranger, they don't intimidate easily. He's coming down to station tomorrow to look at mug shots."

Fuscous snorted, "There really is a Santa Claus!"

Carter smiled back, "You have no idea, partner."

Lunchtime rolled around and Carter told Fusco she had an errand to run. She walked to the park, found a nice sunny bench and dialed her favorite number.

"Hi, sweetheart," the soft sexy voice of John Reese answered. Joss's nipples immediately stood at attention and there was a rush of heat between her legs. She firmly repressed her body's reaction to her lover's voice.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked.

"I have several. I'm watching the most boring woman in the world have lunch with her best friend who seems to be the second most boring woman in the world."

Joss laughed, "Not the most exciting case, eh?"

"I'm so bored I'm hoping Leon gets in trouble again soon."

Joss laughed. "Wow, you are bored. Well, I had an interesting morning."

"Tell me about it then, I can live vicariously through you."

"I met someone," Joss said in flirty tone of voice

"Am I going to have to kneecap a rival?" John teased back. Joss could hear the smile in his voice.

"He's already missing a leg. He's a veteran."

"Oh? Do you know him?" Joss could tell John was interested now. He had a soft spot for veterans.

"No, but you do. His name is Alejandro Padilla."

There were a few seconds of shocked silence and then John exclaimed, "Paddy? You met Paddy?"

"Yep, he's a witness to a murder Fusco and I are working."

"You said he's missing a leg?" John sounded concerned.

Joss immediately stopped flirting and got serious. "He's in a pretty bad way, John. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but he's dying. He had a hard time after he lost his leg and now cancer is getting him."

"Where can I find him?" John's voice was very soft.

Joss gave John the address. "That's a rough part of town," John noted.

"VA bennies don't get you the penthouse suite."

"True."

"He did say he was comfortable," Joss tried to be reassuring.

John was still concerned, "But if he has cancer, he won't be comfortable for long."

"When the time comes, I have people I can call to get him into some good hospice care, John. We can make sure the end is as painless as possible."

"Thank you. Don't expect me tonight; when I'm done here I think I need to pay a visit to an old friend."

"I was hoping you would say that. I think he would love to see you. He spoke quite highly of you, how you took him under your wing and protected him."

John paused, and then said in a choked voice, "He was a good kid."

"He said you were a good man," Joss said softly.

"He hasn't seen me in years, Joss."

"You are still a good man; I will never stop believing that," Joss said fiercely.

When John didn't reply for several minutes, she said, "John?"

"I'm still here," he said in voice that was choked with such emotion she'd rarely heard from him. "I'll see you later."

Joss hung up, smiling.

As she expected, Joss did not hear from John that evening.