"Chief?" Scooter nudged the door open and walked in. "Chief, are you okay?" Flip sat up, rubbing his eyes in a poor attempt to hide the fact that he'd been crying.

"Sorry you had to see me freak out like that, Scooter. I know this is even scarier for you, since you're so young," he said. "You wanna sit down?"

Scooter came over to the bed, sat beside his brother and patted his shoulder.

"You don't have to act tough just for me, Chief," he said. "You and me can be scared together, okay?"

"I-I'm not scared," Flip protested. "Because Pop's gonna be just fine, you'll see! All the others were just talking garbage down there, about the worst happening."

"Flip..." It was rare that Scooter ever called him by his name. Flip rubbed his eyes furiously, trying to fight back more oncoming tears.

"I'm not scared," he repeated. Who are you trying to convince, a voice in his head asked, Scooter, or yourself? Scooter looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes, and the tears spilled over. Scooter nestled against his side, sniffling; Flip felt his shirt being soaked with tears and instantly felt better in spite of himself. Crying wasn't so bad if someone else was doing it with you.

"I wish we'd gone along with him, Chief," Scooter said miserably. "We could've protected him."

"No we couldn't," Flip said. Being made aware of his father's mortality had made him aware of their own. "We'd be dead if we tried anything. Guys like that'll shoot anyone, even kids."

"Why'd he have to shoot Pop?" Scooter wailed. "It's not fair! Pop never did anything wrong, bad things like this should only ever happen to bad people!"

"Aw, Scooter...remember all the times Mom and Pop said sometimes bad things happen to good people?" Flip mumbled, pulling his little brother closer. "You're right, though."

Scooter sniffled, reaching for Flip's hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Just remember, Chief. You've got me no matter what happens, okay? I'll always stick by you." Flip almost smiled at that; Scooter was the best second in command anyone could ask but, but even more so he was the best brother anyone could ask for.

"Thanks, Scooter."

-x-

Anne sighed as she pulled her pajamas on and flopped down on her bed. Even with Alan's comforting words in mind, that nagging worry in the back of her head wouldn't leave her alone.

He may need a blood transfusion. She'd give blood to her father without a second thought, but the idea that he was that badly hurt...she shivered, drawing the blankets up over herself and burying her head against the pillow. She felt scared, upset, but most of all angry. Part of her wanted to hunt down the creep and bean him with rocks until he was a bloody mess, or even watch someone else do it. What right did some stupid jewel thief have to shoot her father? No right at all, she thought bitterly. I hope when they catch you they give you a life sentence, you jerk!

Being angry wouldn't make Pop better, though; she knew if Alan were here he'd say that and she was a little mad that his zen had gotten in the way of her anger. But he was right, and it wasn't like she could use her anger against the guy. A grown man with a weapon wasn't the same as kicking some jerk who was annoying her or picking on Tom.

It just didn't seem real. This sort of thing happened to other kids' families; Anne thought of her friend Melissa's cousin confined to a wheelchair for life after a motorcycle crash, her friend Jason's mother dying in that plane crash, or Tom's friend Gareth and his notoriously troubled parents. We lost Mom, she thought, but it wasn't like this. She was just sick...no one shot her, she wasn't in an accident.

Still, when one thought about it, it was still kind of the same, right?

No, she scolded herself. Stop thinking like that. Pop isn't gonna die, and it's not gonna do you or him any good to think about that. He'll be fine. He'll be just fine, even if he needs your blood, he'll survive, he'll be just-

"Anne?"

A soft voice caught her attention, and she turned to see Nancy standing beside the bed. She looked tiny and lost and scared; without a word, she pulled back the covers and patted the space beside her. Nancy eagerly climbed in and the sisters embraced. Just like when Mom died.

"Why did the doctor have to say all that stuff about Pop dying? I don't want him to die," Nancy whispered, blinking back tears. Anne brushed her sister's bangs away from her face and kissed her forehead.

"It'll be okay. Pop's strong, he'll come out of it like nothing ever happened," she said. Nancy sniffled and looked up at her with wide, sad eyes.

"Aren't you scared, too, Anne?"

"Well, yeah," Anne admitted, "but you remember what Alan said. We've gotta think positive or it's not gonna do any of us any good."

"But what if the worst does happen? There's ten of us, what if they split us up? We've gotta stay together," Nancy protested. Blinking back tears, Anne held her sister closer and rubbed her back.

"Then we'll stay together. No matter what happens, Henry won't let anyone split us up," she said. "But don't think about that, because Pop's going to be just fine, okay?"

Nancy buried her face against Anne's shoulder with a sharp sniff.

"I hope you're right."

-x-

"Stanley? Are you almost done?" Suzie asked, knocking on the bathroom door. She heard her brother spit out his toothpaste, run the water and open the door.

"Sure, it's all yours," he said. Suzie headed into the bathroom and brushed her own teeth quickly, then washed her face and ran a comb through her hair. When she finished, Stanley was still waiting outside.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Normally she'd have teased him about forgetting to floss or clean his ears, but she'd learned that when Stanley didn't smile, it was the worst time to make jokes. "You want to talk?" Stanley nodded gratefully.

"Could we?"

They went back to Henry and Stanley's room and sat down on Stanley's bed. Suzie sighed, leaning against her brother's shoulder.

"We blew it," she said. "This time we really blew it, didn't we?"

"How? It's not our fault some maniac pulled a gun on Pop," Stanley said. "Boy, if I could ever get my hands on that jerk...!"

"I mean, we always thought Pop was invincible," Suzie said. "I feel like we've kind of taken him for granted, you know?"

"Eh, I wouldn't go that far," Stanley said. "Maybe we just took the danger for granted. I mean, think about it. We're always with him on cases and he doesn't usually get called in for this stuff." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Boy, weren't we stupid, thinking it'd all be okay. Henry and I should've gone with him, or maybe we should've begged him not to go out there, or even told him to be careful, or-"

"Stan." She hugged him, tears stinging her eyes. "It's too late to go over what we should've done, and we both know it."

"I...I know." His shoulders hitched slightly, and he swallowed hard. "The only thing we can do now is tell him we're sorry when he wakes up."

"But you know what he'll say," Suzie said with a short laugh. "My children, you are not to blame for the perpetrator's rash and violent ways. He is the one who chose to carry a firearm, and he is the one who chose to break into the store tonight." That got a tiny smile out of her brother.

"Yeah, that's Pop all right. Always knowing just the right thing to say..." He sighed. "Why did this happen to him? He's such a good guy, he never deserved this."

"I don't know." Suzie closed her eyes. All the platitudes such as sometimes life isn't fair, sometimes bad things happen to good people, all the advice she would normally give a friend in this situation just seemed useless right now. "Pop was in the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess."

"Or that creep was," Stanley muttered. "I just...I hate feeling so powerless! When Pop got arrested in Hawaii that time we nailed the real thief just like that, but this time..."

"I know. This time there's nothing we can do except pray hard and think positive," Suzie said. "And it just doesn't feel like enough."

Stanley sighed, shifting slightly so that his head was resting against her shoulder; she welcomed the closer contact.

"He's really gonna be okay, right? The doctor, he just said all that stuff cause he has to."

"Of course," Suzie said. "Everything's going to be just fine." I hope so, she added mentally.

-x-

"Alan?" He felt the tug on his sleeve just as he was heading down the hall. Mimi was standing outside his and Tom's bedroom door, in her pajamas, clutching a stuffed rabbit and looking sadder than he'd ever seen her before.

"What's wrong?" he asked, putting an arm around her. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I can't even sleep. Alan, will you come sit with me? Nancy's with Anne and I'm all alone in our room and I-I'm scared," she said. Alan knelt down to give her a hug, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway to her and Nancy's room.

"Of course," he said. While he loved all of his sisters, he had a special sort of bond with Mimi; it was difficult to refuse her anything, especially at a time like this. He walked into the room and sat down on the one part of her bed not occupied by stuffed animals.

"Sorry," Mimi mumbled, setting the bunny down beside Alan. "I should've moved them first."

"It's okay, I don't mind sharing," Alan said gently, he as well as the rest of the family knew how she treasured those stuffed animals. Plus, he reluctantly admitted to himself, it was a bit of a comfort to be surrounded by them. Mimi snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest and sniffling.

"Oh, Alan, I'm trying to think good thoughts like you said but I'm still scared," she cried. "Every time someone gets shot in the movies, they always die!"

"Aww, Mimi, that's just pretend. People die in the movies for the drama, it's not the same in real life," Alan said, ruffling her hair. "I mean, yeah, being shot isn't like getting a paper cut, but a shot in the arm is...well, it's like a higher-scale broken bone. It's bad, but if it's taken care of fast it won't kill you."

"But the doctor said he was bleeding a lot," Mimi said.

"Don't worry about that. There's a lot of blood in the human body, I'm sure he's still got enough left to live." But the human body only has so much blood, he reminded himself. And he still might need that transfusion.

"Really, Alan?" Mimi looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes and he felt a twinge in his heart. Now was not the time to give into his worries, not when she needed him to be strong more than ever.

"...yeah," he said hesitantly. "Yeah, he's got plenty of blood, and they'll fix his arm up real good. Promise."

She frowned.

"Are you sure? You waited a long time before you said that."

"Of course I'm sure!" He forced a brighter smile. "Come on, you know me. Always the level-headed one, calm and unflappable. Yep...that's me."

Mimi frowned, shook her head and slipped her little hand into his, squeezing tightly.

"It's okay to be scared." And he squeezed back just as tightly, nestling his head against hers and sighing with relief.

"It's just...it's hard, sometimes, always being the level-headed one," he said. "I'm good at it, but every time I feel anything other than calm, I'm worried I'll let everyone down."

"You didn't let us down when you cried over Mom," Mimi said. "It's okay if you get upset or worried or scared, we'll always love you anyway." She kissed his cheek. "Especially me."

Alan smiled a little, genuinely this time, and rested his head against hers.

"I love you too, sis."

-x-

The phone had rung twice that evening, Grace Van Inkley to check up on them and a telemarketer trying to sell them something pointless; he couldn't be bothered to find out what it was. Henry had considered calling the hospital to speak with Lieutenant Morris, but it was almost midnight and the hospital had probably kicked him out for closing.

Henry sighed. He'd been as strong as he could for his siblings, but now that he was alone there was nothing standing between himself and his own fears. His father was lying in the hospital, seriously hurt, and even the doctor's "good chance" assertion couldn't stop him from fearing the worst.

He sighed again, staring out the window at the cloudy, starless night sky.

"God? I know you're here, even if you don't answer. So you can listen," he said quietly. "Please let Pop be okay. I know, we took it for granted how dangerous this stuff can be, but we never will again, I swear. Just..." He swallowed, fighting back tears. "When Mom died, we got through it, but only because of Pop. If we lost him..."

He sank down onto the couch, swallowing back the sobs that threatened to break through.

"He's the most wonderful father in the world, the best one we could ask for," he whispered, his voice breaking. "If we lost him, I don't think we could go on. Please, God...don't take him from us. Don't take our father from us. Please..."

His eyes drifted to the mantle, photos of the family lined up in a row. Mom and Pop on their wedding day, Pop with him and Stanley as toddlers while Mom held their new baby sister in her arms, all the older kids on the beach, Mom with Chu-Chu resting in her lap, a candid photo of Pop and the younger kids, the family during their last Christmas together.

It was hard enough to lose Mom. If we lost you, too, Pop...

He shook his head, buried his face in his hands, and wept.

-x-

Despite his best efforts, Tom just couldn't fall asleep. His pragmatic side was battling his optimistic side; on one hand, it was important to consider a course of action should the worst happen. But he had faith not just in his father's strength, but the doctors as well. He was being cared for at one of the best hospitals in Sacremento, after all.

But even with that in mind, sleep still wouldn't come. Sighing, Tom got out of bed, threw his robe on and shoved his feet into his slippers. Maybe a cup of tea would bring about the drowsiness he sorely needed.

As he was walking towards the kitchen, though, he heard faint sobs coming from the den. He tiptoed into the doorway and nearly gasped in shock. It was Henry, looking more vulnerable and lost than Tom had ever thought him capable of. In all the years he'd known his oldest brother, he'd never seen him cry before, not like this. Part of him wanted to be scared. Henry was always the pillar of strength for the family, the substitute father figure when Pop wasn't around.

But that didn't mean Henry was made of stone like a literal pillar, he reminded himself. No matter how much you look up to a person, they're just as human as anyone else.

He shook off that urge to be scared, walked over to the couch and embraced his brother. Henry stiffened and looked up at him, face wet and eyes red.

"Tom?" He almost seemed embarrassed, as anyone caught crying would tend to be.

"It's okay, Henry," he whispered, rubbing his back. Henry shook his head.

"You don't need to do this."

"You held me like this all night when Mom died," Tom said, drawing him closer. "Let me do the same for you now." He felt Henry relax, followed by his brother's arms locking around his waist for security.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but Henry's sobs eventually died down. Tom loosened his hold and sat down on the couch beside him, offering a crumpled but still clean tissue from his robe's pocket.

"Do you feel any better now?" he asked.

"Not really," Henry said as he wiped his nose. "But...I'm glad you came in. Thank you, Tom, I really appreciate it."

"It was the least I could do," Tom said. "You're always there for me whenever I need a shoulder to cry on, how could I not give you the same?"

Henry gave him a watery smile, then hugged him tightly.

"You're something special, you know that?" he whispered. "I'm glad you're my little brother." Tom nestled as closely as he could, warmed from the inside out by his brother's words and embrace.

"You look exhausted," he said. "Why don't you get some badly-needed rest, and I'll wait by the phone?" But his suggestion ended in a yawn, and Henry laughed a little.

"Why don't we both go to bed? The phone's loud enough to wake us up, anyway." But no sooner had they gotten up than everyone else filed into the den.

"We can't sleep," Anne said. Henry sighed, burying his face in his hand.

"I'll go get some blankets," he said. Tom smiled a little. If nothing else, they could all be scared and miserable and insominac together.

-x-

Chu-Chu had wandered through the house for most of the night, peeking in on the various sibling pairs and listening to their conversations. Granted, as a dog, his understanding of human speech was limited, but he didn't need to understand human speech to know that the situation was indeed very bad. He didn't want to think about Pop dying or even being hurt, it was sad enough when Mom died. They were both such nice people with such nice kids.

Most pet owners treated their pets like "just animals", but not Pop. He treated Chu-Chu like one of the family, even gave him an allowance. Sure, most people thought he was a bit strange for that, but Pop didn't care. And he sure appreciated it; a dog never knew when he might need to buy a new bone or come across a nice set of squeaky toys in the pet shop.

He hated seeing the kids so sad. Stanley, the silly joker who managed to find a bright spot in almost everything, hadn't smiled a single smile that night. Suzie, normally so level-headed and serene, didn't seem sure in her assertions that Pop would be okay. Even dependable leader Henry had broken down that night.

Chu-Chu sadly padded towards his doggie bed, turned around twice, then laid down with a soft whine. All he could do right now was sleep.

-x-

And so the night went on like this. They slept in shifts, waited by the phone in shifts, and every now and then one of the younger children would awaken from a nightmare and refuse to go back to sleep unless an older sibling sat with them. At one point (sometime around two o'clock), Mrs. Van Inkley and Lieutanant Morris stopped in to check on them.

"Not sleeping isn't going to make the morning come any faster," Morris said, but even knowing that didn't do much for the insomina. Eventually, they left, but not before begging the children to please get some rest.

It was a little after three o'clock when everyone finally fell asleep for real that night. Under a mountain of pillows and blankets, in Henry and Stanley's room, they huddled close to each other for warmth and safety.