Disclaimer: Don't own them, just write about them.

Summary: Post "Scrambled" chat between two people in a bar based on the line: "You could still be a grandfather."

Scrambled Situations

Who the hell did he think he was? What the hell did he know? Where did he get off talking to him like that? When did he earn the right to play Captain Crusader and dictate morals for all? And why did it piss him off so?

All of the questions went through Lennie Briscoe's mind as he replayed the 'discussion' he and Rey Curtis had just outside of the fertility clinic about embryos and such. "You could still be a grandfather. Does that seem right to you?" Rey had said, or something like that. That wasn't the turn Lennie expected the chat to go.

When Lennie mentioned his opinion of possible hope in a cure for Debra, for anyone suffering, he meant it with sincerity. But, what Rey had said, after asking if he wanted to make this personal, that was said with spite. Arrogant, youthful, ignorant spite – and that was what ticked Lennie off.

No, that was a lie. Well, not the whole truth anyway. Lennie nursed his second club soda, watching the bubbles of the carbonation rise one at a time. It was Rey's daring nerve to mention Cathy that riled Lennie up. It was the memory of his baby girl, and the baby that baby girl had….

-----

Lennie was a grandfather thanks to Cathy. But, that was something he found out the hard way, when he had resurfaced from a descent of a drink of the bottle. It was his other daughter who kindly told dear old dad about Cathy's new beau. It was his other daughter who pointed out to him how long ago Cathy had slipped out of their mother's house and frequently stayed at this beau's place.

By the time Lennie learned of Cathy's bundle of joy, he learned that she had given the baby up for adoption. Oh, how he wanted to yell at his wife for that one! He wanted to shake that woman by the shoulders and demand to know what she was doing with their precious children to allow this to happen.

Then again, his absence didn't help, either. So, Lennie deserved a better part of the blame, he thought. He took out a small photograph tucked behind Cathy's. The adoption was open, so Cathy had arranged a meeting with the parents in the park. From a distance, Lennie watched, teary-eyed about the love he was sure that child was getting. He took a snapshot with a disposable camera some few yards away.

Lennie had lost sight of the adoptive mother, focused on the baby, his baby, and a father Lennie should have been. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, inviting him to join them.

Lennie tried to keep his face neutral, recognizing this woman as the baby's other mother. He quietly accepted the invitation, and the only visit he had with his grandchild.

-----

"That good of a day?"

Lennie turned to see Jack McCoy take a seat beside him. "Must be if you're sitting next to me at this hour," he quipped.

"So, who do you want to slug?"

"Pardon?" Lennie asked.

Jack ordered his drink, then turned to Briscoe and said "Who do you want to slug?" Off his look, Jack added, "You want to beat the crap out of someone. If it was me, you'd have swung by now. So…?"

Lennie matched Jack's smile. "Point taken, counselor." He finished his club soda then ordered another one. "Rey."

"He gets to you, too?"

Lennie heard the younger man's side of the head-butting between the two based on Catholicism. "Well," Lennie said, "he is just a kid."

Jack shook his head. "Every now and then I expect that 'kid' to tell me I should be Catholic even at work."

"I know," Lennie said. The fact that the senior partner heard an earful about that, it amazed him that the remark had yet to be made to McCoy. "But, I doubt that's what brought you down here, either."

Jack took a sip from his drink then shrugged his shoulders. "This whole case, the idea of who decides, the idea of dreams and possibilities and lost opportunities…"

"Daughters?" Lennie ventured.

"Daughters," Jack said. "There are times I wonder what would have happened if I chose differently in this line of work, you know? What if I cut my hours back when my wife asked me to? What if I was home more often for my daughter? What if we had a second child, a sibling for her?"

Lennie nodded, aware of the majority of arguments that mangled a marriage. There, he was one up on McCoy in ending two. Then again, there was a time he was one up on the daughter count, too. "You can't always get what you want. And if you try sometimes, you might find…"

Jack turned with appreciation. "I never imagined you a 'Rolling Stones' guy."

"Eh, Jagger knew a thing or two," he said. "The thing with daughters is that we fathers want them to have that fairy tale life, or as much that can work in reality."

"And of course," Jack said, "the problem with that is-."

"Nobody's promised a happy ending," they said at the same time.

They chuckled at that.

"Nope," Jack said, "nobody's promised a happy ending."

Lennie slapped Jack on the back. "But, we sure as hell try day in and day out to bring them one in cases like these, don't we." Jack nodded. "That's what counts," Lennie said, then turned the chat to things not work related.