A/N: Here is a short, one part story that my muse just had to write! Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Finney reflects on a painful memory that has turned into a life lesson.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone that pertains to Third Watch. (sigh)

Special Thanks: To Cosmic Castaway for reading it and making sure it sounded ok. Thanks again girlie! Also to all of you who take the time to read it, thanks!

Not My Father's Son

They always say that a son reflects his father, or at least that's the way it's supposed to be. In my case I hope that's not true. Sure, I feel guilty saying that about the man that gave me life, but when I think about all of the hell he put me through I don't.

I have very mixed feelings towards my father. That man is the reason I became a cop, well before I knew the truth about him. He had me out at the firing range when I was four years old, pounding it into my brain at a young age to join the brotherhood in blue. Little did I know that while he was teaching me everything I needed to know about handguns and artillery he was out plotting against fellow cops, making plans to kill someone's father, someone's husband. What a coincidence, 20 years later I get paired with that cop's son with no clue of my father's dirty deeds. They of course would later blindside me out of nowhere. I guess the saying is true, what goes around comes around. I'll stand by that until I die.

I always wondered why when I'd ask my dad about his day he couldn't look me in the eye. I always thought maybe he was just tired, maybe he thought I was too young to hear about the cruel streets. In all reality it was all because he was ashamed. Deep down he knew what he was doing was bad, and he couldn't bear to face his son that wanted to be so much like him.

He always told me to be a better cop than he was. To me that was him trying to inspire me, to help me make it through the academy, to pass every challenge that was pushed in front of me. Yet again my father deceived me. He was saying it because he knew he was dirty, a complete disgrace to the department. His mind thought he was doing right, it seemed as if he was pushing himself to see just how much he could get away with, but deep down in his heart he knew he was taking advantage of the shield. It's cops like him that give the rest of us such a bad name.

My first day of work was a nightmare. Because I was the new rookie at the precinct right? Wrong. My last name is Finney, and as soon as everyone learned it they had some sort of vendetta towards me. Only a few select officers knew about my father's past, but everyone knew he was captain of the Internal Affairs Bureau, better known as the rat squad. That's why I thought everyone was treating me like shit, because of IAB. The truth would be revealed to me soon though, that the old timers knew my father was trash, and assumed I'd probably be down the same path. Like father like son.

Then there is the whole matter of my father saying those three words that mean so much to people. As a kid growing up I always thought that maybe he was just saying I love you to my little brother and sister and not to me was because I was the oldest and he was trying to make me a strong person, as if saying "love" would weaken me. I never realized how much him not saying it hurt me until he actually did say it to me, if that makes sense. And it was over the phone for that matter, not even face to face. Strange how just a few words can alter someone's feelings.

I remember when Davis found out my father was behind the death of his dad. He changed with the drop of a hat, but could you blame the guy? I always wondered if he blamed me for any of it. I had nothing to do with it of course, but there could still be some resentment set in since I have the Finney name. He did seem to act different around me for awhile. I never worked up the courage to ask Davis, hell I probably never will. It'll be a question that will remain unanswered, as it should.

I'll never forget the day I confronted my dad about the allegations of murder towards him. He pulled me aside, saying they are only doing this because of jealousy. I found that very hard to believe. What a desperate attempt to dodge the questions I was asking him. He was right about one thing though, it was very hard for me to ask him if he did it, but I had to know. It was like someone punched me in the stomach when he replied with words that will forever be etched in my memory. "I'll never do a day in jail." He couldn't give me a direct answer, which proved he was guilty immediately. I don't think I was the same after that conversation.

His suicide is one of the most painful memories I'll ever have. It could also be taken as a life lesson for me. That's the night he called and said he loved me, and that's when I knew he was up to something. The entire drive over all I could hear was his voice echoing through my head like thunder. I love you. He NEVER said that.

I fought the urge to puke when I found him in his car; his skin was already pale. Even if my father had a bad past he was still my father, and we did share some good things together. I tried hard to fight back the tears as Davis stood by, practically in awe over the whole situation. There was no holding the tears back; the ducts were opened up like floodgates. I couldn't even control my voice as it cracked when I called out his name.

How could he be so selfish? At first that's all I could think about. I was so angry. He took the coward's way out instead of facing his problems like a man. He took his own life leaving my family out in the cold.

I feel bad about getting Davis to help me cover up the suicide, and not a day goes by that I feel I owe him something, anything. He helped my family and I would never be able to thank him enough.

Since I was young I could never handle my mother crying, and as soon as she got home that's what she did. Her eyes saw her lifeless husband lying down by my feet, beside his car. I did the only thing I could think to do, pulling her into a tight hug as her tears soaked through the fabric on my collar, down to my skin below. She knows his death wasn't an accident. She's smart enough to see it, probably anyone is. Thankfully the department didn't press the matter.

At my father's wake I had never felt so uncomfortable. All of my superiors as well as my father's, standing, staring at us as if we were as dirty as he was. Their fake smiles made me want to punch a wall out. They knew it was suicide also, but that doesn't matter to me. My mom got his pension and knowing that can make me rest a little easier at night.

I think that this chapter in my life has made me a different person, but for the better. I'm stronger than I ever was before. I miss my father almost everyday but everyday I strive to not be the cop that he was. It might sound like I'm betraying my own flesh and blood, but it's the truth, why should I lie about it? Without even realizing it he made me a better man. His mistakes and crimes did help someone, they helped me. Helped me to see that you do not follow every example your father sets. He's not the perfect man you think he is when you are four years old, where he can do no wrong.

May CT Finney rest in piece. Even in death he's raising me to be a better person than he was.

The End