It was late on a Friday evening early in November. Commissioner Frank Reagan sat at his small kitchen table. Danny sat across the table from him. A bottle of scotch sat in the middle of the table. Frank reached for it, refilled his glass, then offered more to his son, who refused. Frank and Danny had been at each other's throats for days, and this evening was no different.

"I should have gotten that promotion when the position opened up. I passed the Sergeant's exam ages ago, and I worked hard to do that. I'm next on the list," Danny complained.

"How the hell do you know where you are on any list?" Frank demanded.

"I just know, okay?"

"No! It's not okay, and I will be taking it up with Lt. Gormley first thing Monday morning! Lt. Dean is a good man, well qualified for the job, and a great asset to the department. I gave him the position to keep him here. You'll have your turn, Danny, but not right now."

Frank picked up his drink, took a large swallow of it. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and he didn't want to have this conversation. When Sgt. Harvey Madison of the 50th Precinct has unexpectedly announced he was leaving the force due to personal health issues, Frank had offered his position to Lt. Spencer Dean, who had filled in for Lt. Carver at Precinct 54 while she was on vacation, then had done the same for Sgt. Madison when he had requested a leave of absence prior to announcing his decision of early retirement. It had not been an easy decision for Frank, fully aware Danny would expect the position to go to him. And he knew Danny and Linda were in need of the increase in pay.

"I can't believe you'd want Dean around. I'd think you'd want the man as far away as possible." Danny reached for the bottle of scotch, deciding he could use a bit more.

Frank's jaw tightened. He leaned over the table toward Danny. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You know what it means, Dad."

"There is nothing going on between Dean and Nicole, and I've had enough of you insinuating that there is!" Frank's voice was loud. He was quickly losing his patience with his son.

"Just how can you be sure of that?" Danny asked, then took a swig of his drink, sat back in his chair.

"Not that it's any of your business, but because I asked her months ago. She assured me there wasn't and she's given me no reason since to think otherwise. It's common knowledge that the Lieutenant and Detective Baez are now dating. I'm sure you're pissed off about that, too. You're just lashing out, Danny, using this nonsense about Nicole and Dean to hurt me because you think I've wronged you, and I've had enough of it!" Frank slammed both hands on the table.

"And I've had enough of you two fighting!"

Both men turned at the sound of Nicole's voice. Neither had been aware of her standing in the doorway, or how long she had been standing there.

"I could hear you both halfway up the stairs. Any louder and you'll wake Henry. Danny, I think it's time for you to go home. Go spend time with your wife, and stop trying to cause problems here."

"Are you throwing me out?"

"Yes! I am. Need I be more clear? Get out."

"Nicole!" Frank said in protest.

"I'll deal with you in a minute, Frank."

Frank opened his mouth to protest, but then chose not to.

"Well, easy to see who's wearing the pants around here these days. Do you ask how high when she tells you to jump, Dad?"

"That's enough, Danny! Go home," Frank replied.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me twice. I'm out of here!"

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Nicole said.

The kitchen turned silent after Danny stormed out of the room. The only sound was the steady hum of the refrigerator. The silence was soon broken as the front door slammed shut.

Still seated at the table, twirling his glass of scotch in his hands, Frank said, "I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Nicole, I can take care of them myself. Especially when they involve my son." He stared at the glass as he spoke.

"Fine. Except that battle seemed to include me as well. But enough of that, let's talk about this."

She pulled a prescription pill bottle from the pocket of her long silk robe, slammed it down on the table in front of Frank. He recognized it right away as the blood pressure medication his doctor had prescribed right before his and Nicole's wedding.

"What about it?"

"What about it? It's obvious you haven't been taking them. Why?"

"Because I don't need them." Frank continued to avoid eye contact with her.

"Says who?"

"Says me. I checked my blood pressure when we returned from our honeymoon. It was fine. I don't need any pills."

Nicole pulled out a chair from the table, sat in it next to Frank. "Of course it was. You were under no pressure, no stress during that time. And you were taking the pills. Have you checked it since?"

"No," he said, finally raising his head to face her.

"God, Frank. You need to take them, unless your doctor tells you otherwise. You promised me you would."

"Okay! Fine! I'll take them." He opened the bottle, took a pill out, popped it in his mouth, washed it down with the remainder of his scotch.

"Seriously, Frank?"

"What? I took the damn pill. What more do you want?" Frank stood, pushed his chair in. "I'm going to lock up, and head to bed. Are you coming?"

"Not just yet."

"Well, don't be long."

And with that, Frank walked out of the kitchen, leaving Nicole sitting at the table alone.

She remained at the table, staring into the darkness of the next room through the open doorway. She and Frank had certainly had their share of arguments when they were dating. But this was their first real fight in the month they had been married. This one troubled her. It was the first time one had ended with Frank walking away from her. In the past, they had usually ended with her in his arms.

After several minutes she stood, pushed her chair in, reached for the bottle of scotch. She started to recap it to put it away, poured a small amount into Frank's empty glass instead. She picked up the glass, inhaled the aroma of it, then downed it, shivered at the nastiness of it. She had wanted to share in the enjoyment of this drink with Frank and his family, but had found the smell of it much more pleasing to her than the actual taste. She capped the bottle, placed it in the cabinet, then carried the two glasses to the sink, rinsed them and put them away. She turned off the lights, and left the room.

XXXXX

After going through the usual nighttime routine, Frank turned off the overhead light of the bedroom, turned on his bedside lamp, got into the bed. He reached across the bed, turned on Nicole's lamp, adjusted her pillows the way he knew she liked them, then, after adjusting his own, sat up in the bed waiting for her. He could hear no sounds of her downstairs, or coming up the stairs. He wondered why she hadn't made her way up yet. He told himself she was probably still in the kitchen. No matter how clean he or Pop tried to leave it, she always seemed to find something still in need of last minute cleaning, though he knew she would never want Pop to know that. Frank had been pleased, and proud, at how hard she tried to make his dad always feel wanted and needed. She had been adjusting quite well here, in his family home, insisting there was no need to change anything about it, other than requesting one of the extra bedrooms to turn into a study for herself. He was well aware that everything in the house was a reflection of his deceased wife Mary, from the china in the dining room cabinet to the accent pillows in this room that he had once shared with Mary, and now shared with Nicole. Looking around the room, he decided he would insist she redo the whole room, furniture and all. She had been a decorator before becoming a writer. It was time she put her own special touch into this room. Time to make it their bedroom in all ways.

As the minutes passed and she still did not come up, he began to worry that she had decided not to join him at all, choosing to sleep in one of the other bedrooms instead. He stepped out of the bed, reached for his robe, not wanting to chance running into Pop in the hallway wearing boxers only. He had been accustomed to sleeping in a T-shirt as well in the past, but Nicole had nixed that immediately, insisting she preferred cuddling next to his bare chest over a cotton Tee. After slipping the robe on, he went in search of her. He checked her new study first, in case she was reading last minute emails. The furniture had been moved to the basement. She had brought her large antique desk, chair, and matching bookshelves from her home, allowing the rest of her brownstone furnishings to be sold along with the home. She had set up her computer right away, but the room was still stacked with unpacked boxes, most of them filled with her hardback book collection, photos, and other mementos. Not finding her in this room or the other two bedrooms, Frank headed downstairs, finally finding her in his den, curled up in his chair. The room was dark except for the dimmed light of the accent lamp on the table between the two large chairs.

"I thought you were coming to bed, Nicole. You know how I feel about going to bed without you. Why are you in here?"

She raised her head at the sound of his voice, wiped her eyes before she spoke.

"I thought you might need some time to cool down. I was coming in a few minutes."

Frank was overwhelmed at the realization that she had been crying. He couldn't recall ever seeing her with tears in her eyes, with the exception of the time in The Sandwich Shoppe when Erik Raul had slung filthy words at her. And of course, during their wedding ceremony. But those had been tears of joy. There was no joy in her face now, only sadness. He reached for her, pulled her out of the chair, embraced her, holding her close. She slipped her arms around his waist inside his loosely tied robe, rested her head on his chest.

"Nicole, I didn't need time to cool down, I needed you in the bed next to me. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time in the kitchen. It just makes me look weak when my wife is fighting my battles. I can't afford to look weak, in front of my officers, the city, or my children."

"I understand that, Frank. I'm sorry. I just worry about you. I love you."

"I know. And I love you." He squeezed her tightly, kissed the top of her head. "Come on, let's go to bed." He took her by the hand. She followed him as he led her up the stairs to their bedroom.