Five Minutes Longer

Author's Note: Legit teared up at the end of this episode. I don't have time to give "Some Kind of Hero" the full multi-chapter treatment I would like because life is just too busy these days, but I am happy to humbly offer up this one-shot of missing scenes for all the fans out there. Written, as usual, in a two-hour post-episode avalanche when inspiration is at its strongest.

Please note that I took one liberty with this story. I'm assuming that when Erin yelled at her father about not knowing that Jamie was working undercover, she meant not knowing since the incidents of "Moonlighting." In my head, the entire family knew about what was going on with Jamie up until that point (because really, how do you explain away that damage to his face?), but they all thought he was pulled at that point and only Frank and Danny knew he was continuing to operate within the Sanfino and Cavazerre families. I guess time will tell... it would be very interesting to re-watch season two under the presumption that the rest of the family never had any idea Jamie was undercover at all.

Anyway, on with the story! I hope you enjoy and please leave a review on your way out if you do; I love hearing from you all. *hugs*

Strangely enough, he never saw the fire.

Where there's smoke, there's fire. That was right, wasn't it? He couldn't remember. He couldn't think, either, because the fire alarm was going off at piercing full-volume wail, bouncing off the walls of the empty hallway, and the smoke was dense and sticky, coating his throat with the taste of day-old wet cigarettes. Adrenaline mixed with fear in his veins, and his head throbbed, pounding in rhythm with his racing heart.

Jamie pulled his left arm across his face, breathing hard into the crook of his arm. He was folded at the waist, as low as he could get while keeping his feet beneath him, using the faint glare of the emergency lights to find his way. When he had first entered the ratty building and dashed up the narrow stairwell, he had been met by the last few tenants still straggling out - an old woman being helped down the stairs, a middle-aged man with a six-pack of beer cradled protectively in each arm - and he had directed them toward the front door, coughing as he waved them on, pushing deeper into the smoke.

There was no one around him now.

He needed to remember what he'd learned as a kid. Heat rises. Stay low. Stop, drop and roll. He'd had all sorts of fun with that one when he was little, to the point that Grandpa had bought him a firefighter costume one Christmas and his mother had organized the first annual Reagan family fire drill, complete with letting them roll escape ladders over the sills of their bedroom windows and climb precariously down the side of the house, under their father's close supervision, of course. It had all been good fun at the time. He'd never envisioned what it would really be like to be inside a building like this, lost and nearly disoriented in the choking black, heat pressing on all sides of him, unable to pull in anything more than the shallowest of breaths.

The smoke was in his eyes, his ears, and it lingered with dark grace in every breath he took. He fought to keep his mind clear, and finally spotted the apartment he was looking for - to his left, facing the street; yes, this was it. The door was ajar about six inches, and he pushed in without thought. The smoke was thicker here, but he straightened a fraction anyway, peering left and then right through smarting, streaming eyes.

A tiny kitchen. A living room, the television still on. A playpen.

He rushed over, grabbing the side and leaning close to see.

A baby was there, lying on his stomach. He was moving feebly. Jamie scooped him up without prelude, and saw the child's face was bright red, his expression screwed tight with rage, his wails lost beneath the fire alarm. "Shh, I've got you," he muttered, as much for himself as the child, and tucked the baby in close to his chest.

Retracing his path was easier than he thought it would be, and he was halfway down the stairs when an explosion nearly shook the steps right out from beneath his feet. He lurched, hitting the wall hard with his shoulder, but he didn't wait to see what would come next. He flew down the remaining stairs, seeing the smoke thin, seeing the light ahead-

-and suddenly Renzulli was there. "Jamie! Jamie," he shouted, and his arms came up around the child, tugging him free. Jamie let him go, and stumbled after his partner into the light, gulping in the fresh breaths.

New York air had never tasted better.

)()()()()()()(

As the ambulance pulled away, Jamie leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. Renzulli spun to face him, his face lined with concern. "You okay, kid?"

Jamie nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, fine."

"You sure? I swear, I thought you were dead when that apartment blew. You trying to kill me or something?"

"Not intentionally."

"You're a cop, not a firefighter. Do I need to remind ya of that?"

"Nah, I got it." He took another deep breath, feeling his headache beginning to recede.

"Good, 'cause for a second there I thought maybe you'd mixed the two up." Renzulli shook his head, expression going cross. "You saved that kid's life and all, but damn, I can't believe you did that, Reagan."

"You went in too," Jamie pointed out.

"Only to get your crazy ass. I'd rather be dead right along with ya than have to face your old man. I couldn't stop thinkin' about what I was going to tell your pop if you didn't come outta there."

Jamie flicked his eyebrows, shrugging off the comment. "I couldn't stop thinking about the baby," he admitted.

Renzulli eyed him. "And that was all you thought about, wasn't it? They said 'hey, there's a baby in there,' and that was it for ya. You didn't think about the fire or the smoke or even your own hide?"

Jamie blinked up at Renzulli before straightening. "There was a baby," he repeated blankly.

Renzulli shook his head, but a firefighter in full turnout gear approached them before he could speak. "You the cops who got the kid out of there?" the firefighter asked.

"Yeah," Renzulli said. "Well, it was mostly the kid here."

The firefighter eyed Jamie as he wiped his face carefully and stifled a cough in his fist. "You all right, son?"

"Yeah, fine," Jamie replied. "Smoke, you know?"

"Do I ever," the firefighter smirked, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a pair of patrol cars. "Thought you might want to know that your on-scene commander just showed up."

Renzulli nodded, clapping Jamie on the back. "Hey, kid. Before we talk to the brass, one last thing?"

"Let me guess. You're going to make me start wearing a leash?"

"Nah, I gave up on keeping up with ya a long time ago." Renzulli smiled. "You done good, kid. Real good. I'm proud of ya."

)()()()()()()(

"...I was thinking, I'm really proud of you."

The words were unexpected, and Jamie gripped the back of a chair in his father's conference room, grounding himself. "I don't know why."

"No?"

"Dad, I..." He swallowed. "I didn't even think about the undercover investigation. When that man told me about the baby, it was like my mind short-circuited. I should've thought twice before-"

"Before what?" His father heaved a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Son, like I said, you were doing your job. How am I supposed to fault you for that? If I were doing mine, I wouldn't let you be working street patrol while your undercover work is still ongoing. That would've prevented this whole issue."

Jamie frowned. "I think I'd rather be defending low-life crime lords in a courtroom than flying a desk in the precinct, dad. OCCB has been good about keeping me away from where the Sanfinos and the Cavazerres congregate. This wasn't something you could've anticipated."

His father shot him a droll look. "Now you're bucking me up?"

"Well, maybe I'm getting the feeling that you're not telling me everything." Jamie shrugged at his father. "You're proud of me, I get that. Now what aren't you saying?"

"Plenty," Frank muttered. "And as the police commissioner, plenty I can never tell you."

Jamie sighed. "I get that. But for what it's worth, dad? I would do it all over again."

His father looked at him, and he smiled, wide and genuine. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jamie nodded, and focused on the pride in his father's eyes.

He would ignore the glimmer of fear.

)()()()()()()(

It was chilly in the patrol car.

Jamie thunked his head back against the headrest of the passenger seat, rolling his eyes at the tinny voice coming through the cell phone. "Erin," he tried again. "Erin!"

"I told you, I'm talking and you'll get your chance when I'm finished. How could you not tell me about this? First you're rescuing babies from burning buildings, and then I find out you're still undercover with that crime family? How is it that I have to find out from Danny, of all people?"

"Erin, I can't talk about this now," he protested. "And what's Danny doing telling you anything?"

"I thought you were finished with undercover work after that little incident last fall," she hissed. "Jamie, they beat the hell out of you and that's when they thought you were one of them. What's going to happen if-"

"I'll call you back," he snapped. "This isn't the time, this isn't the place, and we're not having this conversation on an unsecured cell line. Plus, if you want to yell at me, you're going to have to get in line." Jamie closed his phone with a firm click, ending the call abruptly.

He swallowed, then glanced hesitantly over at Renzulli.

His sergeant's eyes were focused on the road ahead, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "I thought of another one," Renzulli said flatly.

Jamie looked at the door handle and wondered if a sudden, flying leap out of the car would be the less painful of his present options. "Did you?"

"Two months ago. You claimed - claimed - to have a hot date with a brunette girl from the Upper East Side. I don't remember what you said her name was but I think it was a vegetable."

"Paisley?"

"Something like that. So tell me kid, was that one real? Or was it just another cover story for this little undercover gig of yours?"

"Sarge, that was real. I swear."

Renzulli frowned deeply. "You lied about going to Florida in the fall."

"I told you, I got my ass kicked by the guy running the boiler room. I couldn't show my face until the bruises went away."

"I did wonder how you came back looking paler than when you left here," Renzulli admitted, but seemed to quickly remember himself and scowled again. "But that doesn't excuse it, kid. I can't believe you would lie to me like that."

"Sarge, you know as well as I do how this works." His cell phone rang again, and Jamie swore under his breath, snapping it open without checking the caller ID. "Erin, I already told you-"

The voice surprised him. "I need a hero," the familiar voice sang, loudly and slightly off-key. "I'm holding on for a hero 'til the end of the night..."

"Danny, are you drunk?" he asked, startled.

The singing broke off abruptly. "No! I'm just giving credit where credit's due, little brother. Nice work out there."

"Thanks, but you know I can't talk about this right now."

"What's the latest on that? Dad gonna claim the baby waltzed out of there on his own?"

Jamie glanced at Renzulli again from the corner of his eye. "Danny, I really can't talk right now."

"Fine, fine."

"Except," Jamie added suddenly, sharply. "Where do you get off talking to Erin about this?"

"Sorry kid, I can tell now that I'm distracting you from work," Danny teased. A click in his ear followed, and Danny was gone.

Jamie closed the phone, then his eyes, and again contemplated the door handle. "Sarge?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, all right? I've said it already and I'll say it again, and I'll keep saying it as many times as I need to, but... I need to know you're in my corner, okay?" He hated how desperate the words sounded, but they needed to be said.

Renzulli was quiet for a few moments before speaking. "Your dad told me that if your cover gets blown, it could mean your life. Did you know that?"

The words made his stomach turn a little, but he kept his voice steady. "Yeah, I knew that."

"You know I've got your back, kid. You know I'm always in your corner. I'm just a little... surprised by all this."

Jamie ducked his head. "I know."

"And I've had all of two days to deal with this, too," Renzulli added. "You, running into burning buildings and scaring the crap out of me, and then me getting called to the principal's office only to find out you've been undercover for months. Not to mention having to pick up the credit for your good deeds." He shook his head, teeth biting into his lower lip. "Just for the record, kid, every one of those things sucks."

"I know."

"Reagan, I'm letting you know." Renzulli glanced over. "You've put me in a rotten position here. I don't appreciate it."

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" Jamie snapped. "I'm sorry you have to take this credit, I really am, okay?"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Renzulli said flatly. "Yeah, getting a commendation for something you did is pretty shitty, but this isn't about that. This is about you putting your life at risk and never saying a word. I understand that you have to maintain confidentiality and all that, but kid... I already trust you with my life, you know? You need to let me protect yours."

And that had been their last conversation, right up until the press conference in Precinct 12 with captains and lieutenants jostling for position, camera flashes filling the air with a dizzying light show, and Renzulli's large, somewhat manufactured smile as he shook hand after hand in the receiving line of officers. Somehow, Jamie ended up in front of him.

He did what he knew he had to do. He grabbed his partner's hand without hesitation. "Congratulations, Sarge."

Renzulli leaned forward and yanked him into an unexpected hug. Jamie blinked and tried not to squeak as the cameras swung in their direction, murmurs of approval rippling through the gathered press. "I thought your dad was gonna throw up on me," Renzulli whispered into Jamie's ear.

And that's how Jamie knew they were okay.

)()()()()()()(

"Just do me a favor... don't do nothin' heroic."

Those words rang in Jamie's ears long after he left the bar, and long after the special dinner Erin had cooked up for him. They had mixed with the words of his dad, settling over his heart with a warmth even brighter than the weight of the velvet box in his pocket. There's no greater reward than saving a life.

It was remarkable how many heroes he had in his own life. His father, Joe and Danny were the obvious ones, but there were so many more... his mother, in her courageous battle against cancer. Erin, laboring day in and day out for justice. Even Nicky, standing by her friend at school after the texting debacle. There were so many ways to live a good life; so many ways, big and small, to be a hero.

There was no doubt in Jamie's mind that with noble acts came danger and risk. But when he thought of that baby; when he thought of the lives his own family had saved, in so many ways...

...it was worth it. No matter what happened, it was worth it.

"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson