Man On a Mission

Author's Note: This is a very brief follow-up piece to episode 2x16, "Women With Guns." I wrote it fast and dirty, and obviously it contains spoilers. I'm undecided if I'll add any additional chapters, so if you like what I've done here, please let me know and feel free to bring story ideas and/or plot bunnies. Enjoy!

Monday morning in New York City dawned bleak and dismal, with heavy fog shrouding the tops of the skyscrapers. It was cool for March, damp and cool, and even the normally vibrant sunrise seemed painted in black and white.

But for Frank Reagan, the world was awash in color.

The spring in his step didn't go unnoticed by Detective Baker, who eyed him suspiciously from the doorway of his office before opening her portfolio and launching smoothly into her daily briefing. "There were two murders in Brooklyn over the weekend, sir... both have suspects already in custody. We also recorded forty-eight robberies, bringing us to three hundred and fifty-six for the week. That's up eight percent over the same week last year, but still down year-to-year."

"Mmm-hmm." As was customary for Frank, he tossed his overcoat onto a chair and then stretched a little, taking in a deep breath. The air smelled good; tasted good in his throat. He wondered if Ingrid, his cleaning lady, had slipped one of her beloved Glade Plug-Ins into a wall socket during her evening dusting. Had his office always smelled this good?

"Overall it was a relatively quiet weekend." Baker tilted her head to one side. "But it seems you may have already known that, sir?"

"Seemed like a good weekend to me." He stepped easily over to his office windows, moving casually with his hands in his pockets, taking in the mist of white fog that clung closely to the glass. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind." He glanced over his shoulder. "Chiefs' meeting at eight?"

"Yes sir."

"Have I told you lately what an excellent job you do, Baker?"

Her brow knitted. "Sir, is there something going on that I should know about?"

"Not a thing." He grinned, and wondered only briefly just how stupid it probably looked.

One of Baker's eyebrows crawled slowly toward her hairline, but beyond that she wore a poker face that was borderline remarkable. "Yes sir. I have Sam Croft waiting for you, sir?"

"Show him in," Frank replied, and settled behind his desk as Baker slipped out. The leather chair was an old friend, and as he relaxed, it was only with an effort that he managed to get Melanie from the comfortable place she occupied at the front of his thoughts to a quieter, more subdued place in the back. It was hard not to think of her, but he had a job to do. The job had to come first.

His office door swung open, and the familiar face of his fixer popped around the doorframe. "Got a second, Frank?"

"For you, Sam? I've got three or four." He gave a welcoming nod to his head of confidential investigations.

Sam headed straight for the steaming coffee on the side table. "Do you mind? I had a long weekend."

"Not at all." Frank leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk blotter, observing his friend and colleague. "What brings you here so early?"

Sam handled the delicate coffee setting like an old pro, pouring it deftly into a delicate white cup. "Just wanted to check in and see if you had any questions for me about the dossier."

"What dossier?"

Sam perched himself on the arm of Frank's sofa, coffee secure in one hand, his grin wide. "The one between your elbows, there."

Surprised, Frank looked down and saw the leather portfolio right before him, centered on the desk. "Huh," he said. "Well, obviously, I haven't had a chance to look at it too closely."

"No worries." Sam breathed deeply of the coffee's aroma, a look of appreciation flitting briefly over his features. "The documentation goes into detail on the arrest and setup, so you know. I thought you might appreciate an insider's look."

Frank opened the portfolio but didn't bother to review the neat reports inside. "Seemed pretty straightforward, from what I heard." Who would've thought that it would have been someone Melanie trusted implicitly who betrayed her? It only went to show that you had to keep your friends as close as your enemies anymore. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the savvy and talent of his oldest son. Not to mention the discretion.

"Yeah," Sam said. "It wasn't bad. A little nerve-wracking, but I've seen worse. Your boy did a great job, by the way."

"He learned from the best," Frank grinned.

Sam's eyebrows lifted as he sipped the coffee. "You did undercover work?"

Frank's pleasant, relaxed thoughts, which up until that moment had been meandering through sunshine and meadows of wildflowers, halted abruptly and with something of a jerk. "You're... not talking about Danny?"

Sam slowly lowered his cup, setting it down on the end table. His sharp eyes did not leave Frank's. "You didn't hear about Jamie's incident this weekend?"

"What incident?" His mind flashed back to Sunday, the last time he had laid eyes on his youngest son. Jamie had been fine; intact and healthy, which was always the initial measure of "fine," but he had been acting normally, too. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary.

"Johnny Tesla turned up dead," Sam said bluntly. "The Cavazerre elders thought your son might've had something to do with it, particularly after Bianca Sanfino went missing a couple of hours after Jamie met with her."

Frank blinked, resting his hands on the portfolio. "This all happened this weekend?"

"It did. I've been working on it since I first got word about Tesla. Figured Jamie would be involved to some extent."

"What's the inside story?"

"No idea yet. Our boys in organized crime are trying to get their arms around it. Noble Sanfino's uncle apparently went ballistic after the girl disappeared and tried to get his hands on Jamie over it, but the OCCB boys were there in time. They wound up arresting Jimmy Riordan to cut the whole thing off at the pass." Sam continued to study Frank, frowning a little. "Didn't OCCB brief you about this over the weekend? I would've thought you would know."

"I was... busy." He looked down at the paperwork before him. "His cover stayed intact?"

"Yeah, but they cut it too close getting him out of there. Razor close, I thought." Sam shrugged. "Your boy did great, though. Held his own, kept the character. Probably going to be bending your ear pretty soon about hazard pay." He chuckled at the joke, but soon cleared his throat awkwardly when Frank didn't crack a smile. "Listen, I'll let you look through the reports. Give me a call if you have questions, all right? I'll stay on top of it for you."

Frank nodded, not looking up. Snippets of text were already leaping out at him; transcripts of heated phone calls, undercover officers tracking his son through the seedy darkness of a hotel in Tribeca, eighteen missed calls - eighteen? - from Noble Sanfino at one point, and the setup OCCB had clearly identified in Brooklyn. The setup that was meant to pull Jimmy Riordan deep inside the Cavazerre family's fold in what the unit clearly suspected was an "information shakedown."

Something deep inside Frank's gut twisted. He had seen the evidence and crime scene photos from people who were brought in for a conversation with crime families, particularly the "shakedowns" they were so fond of.

It was part of the job. He knew that, and he had trusted the OCCB to keep his son safe. They had not failed him. Jamie was fine.

But how could he have been in the dark about this? Even with the attack against Melanie, he should've known. Someone should have called him. Jamie should have called him.

His office door opened again, and Baker stepped inside. "Sir, the chiefs are assembled and ready."

"Hold them," he replied flatly, all traces of his earlier good mood gone.

Baker straightened, senses clearly on alert. "Sir?"

"I have a phone call I need to make," he replied distractedly, allowing himself only a handful of breaths to skim the report before closing the portfolio. He knew enough; he didn't need all the details of what Jamie had been involved with. He honestly didn't know if he could handle them at this point.

"Yes sir." Baker stepped out, closing the door behind her with a firm click.

Frank picked up his cell phone and called his youngest son.

It rang twice, three times, then clicked over to voicemail. His son's bright voice filled his ear, and he swallowed, waiting for the beep.

"Jamie, it's your dad. Sam Croft was just here, and... well, he filled me in on everything. I want to talk to you. Sounds like you did a good job, son. Call me."

He hung up.

But he held the silent cell phone in his hand for a long time afterwards.