Jamie sat uncomfortably in the back seat of Danny's car, as the two older Reagan men conversed in low tones outside.
They were cleaning up his mess. They had managed to get him out without any of the thugs being any the wiser, so concerned were they about scarpering themselves. He squirmed in his seat and felt the dull flush across his cheeks intensify, this was mortifying.
An ambulance was on scene, tending to the barely alive informant and the remaining gang members were handcuffed and sitting out of his direct line of vision, handcuffed, waiting for a police van to come and get them.
The Commissioner turned and shot his youngest a furious look, before turning back to Danny and issuing more instructions.
Jamie blanched.
He hadn't seen his father this angry in years.
Especially at him.
Rightly or wrongly, he was the baby of the family, and rarely drew such ire.
He watched in consternation as a wailing police van roared onto the scene, with anxious looking cops instantly departing it. He gulped as his father took control of the situation, appraising the new arrivals of the situation, and evidently instructing the herding of the prisoners on board.
Danny arrived back and murmured to his father who nodded brusquely. Spinning on his heel, the oldest Reagan son stormed to his car and threw himself into the driver's seat.
If Jamie was uncomfortable alone, he was doubly uncomfortable with the addition of his seething sibling.
The hot headed Detective turned around and shot the quailing officer a ferocious glare.
"You've done it this time little brother" he growled, "You've really gone and done it this time."
With that, he bit his lip, and turned around in his seat and stared angrily out of the windshield.
He had been firmly warned by his father not to antagonise the situation, and that he, and he alone would deal with Jamie.
There was an oppressive silence, as the younger Reagan couldn't exactly come with a convincing counter argument.
Even with a Harvard Law degree.
After another five minutes of issuing instructions, the PC wrapped the disastrous operation up, and bidding a good night to his men, made his way to the car housing his oldest and youngest.
Sliding into the passenger seat, he deliberately kept his tone level and his words to the point.
"Danny, I need you to drop us off at the house, and then go home to Linda and the boys ok?"
Nodding stiffly, the younger man kicked the car into gear with a mumbled "you got it pop."
There was not another word spoken as the car raced through the streets of New York as darkness began to descend.
All too soon for Officer Reagan's liking it screeched to a halt outside the familiar red brick home.
Frank clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder and deftly exited the car, swiftly reaching the back seat passenger door.
Opening it, he jerked his head at his youngest.
"Out."
The kid took a deep breath and hesitantly obeyed.
Danny shot him one last look before he shut the door, it was still angry as hell, but there was something there that Jamie instantly recognised, having exchanged that look with his brother more times than either cared to admit throughout their lives.
Sympathy.
Frank Reagan swept up the garden path at a brisk gate, with his youngest trailing miserably in tow.
Throwing the front door open, he waited for Jamie to skirt past him.
To the kid's intense relief, the house was completely empty after dinner, save for Henry who was eying him from his usual chair in the corner.
Closing the door, Frank took a deep breath and fought to keep his tone steady.
Pointing up the stairs, he shot a stern look at the silent Jamie.
"Go to your room. Now."
Blushing, the young man nodded jerkily before taking the stairs, two at a time.
Their father had pretty much left their respective rooms in the same condition as they'd left them, which was basically a necessity given the frequency of which they all stayed over.
Pushing open the door to the familiar room, Jamie felt a small bout of calmness.
The scents of his childhood were in this room, and despite the current situation, they still bore their soothing qualities.
Throwing himself down on the bed, he stared blankly up at the ceiling.
He was so dead.
How could he have been so moronic?
A rookie cop, taking on an established gang, all on his lonesome?
He felt the flush cross over his face again at the mere thought of his asinine actions. That informant could have died under his very eyes, because he didn't have the experience or expertise to intervene appropriately. He could have sent the whole gang underground, only to resurface with an even deeper contempt for the law. He could have embarrassed the whole goddamned police department.
Groaning, he turned on his side and stared hopelessly out the window.
He knew none of the reasons that rattled through his mind were the real cause of his father's anger. The real cause was that…he could have been killed. He could have been shot, at point blank range, and not one of the low life's that were in that bar would have batted a lid.
That's why Commissioner Reagan had been so angry he had been barely able to catch his breath.
Jamie felt a burning guilt begin to stir in him.
Joe's face sailed over his consciousness, and the burning intensified.
He had put his family through that fear again, for no reason other being too arrogant to know when to quit.
Gulping, he stared out the window at the shimmering darkness and wondered wearily how one Sunday could go so awfully, horribly wrong.
Downstairs, the situation was not much better.
Henry Reagan watched quietly as his son paced back and forth in agitation, trying valiantly to calm himself the hell down.
"You should have seen it pop…he was all alone in there. It was chaos. Absolute chaos."
The elder man watched in concern as the colour continued to drain from his son's face, whilst battling feelings of conflicting anger and staggering relief himself.
Eventually deciding to intervene, he stood and pressed a hand on Frank's shoulder, bringing the frantic pacing to a standstill.
"I know Francis…I know" he murmured gently, "Jamie screwed up. Big time, but…this is not Joe. This… is not… that. This is your kid… who made a mistake, but thankfully, didn't pay the ultimate price."
The calming influence his father always had on him, washed over the younger man, and he felt himself relax slightly.
"Thank God" he murmured, feeling his chest constrict with the mere possibility of losing the baby of the family.
Henry chuckled despite himself.
"I always said Jamie was a Danny in the making."
Frank glared.
"Don't even joke pop."
Chuckling some more, Henry took in the stance, and the breathing of his only son.
"You think you're calm enough to go and talk to him now?"
Frank's brow furrowed, as he appraised himself. He would never dream of having it out with one of his kids unless he was completely in control of his own emotions. As he tuned into his own senses, he found a healthy amount of manageable anger, and a seemingly never ending pool of relief.
"Yeah dad, I'm calm enough" he answered honestly, relieved by the level tone in his voice.
Having no hesitation in believing the man in front of him, Henry nodded slowly.
His own feelings now, were that of extreme sympathy.
For all his firmness, and his imposing figure, he knew his son was a complete soft touch at heart when it came to his kids.
Taking any of them in hand was not something Frank brushed off easily, it genuinely caused him pain.
He detested it, but he would never fail to do it.
Their jobs were too dangerous.
The elder of the two crossed over to the nearby dresser, and extracted the heavy, well worn hairbrush that resided there.
Passing it to his son wordlessly, who took it in great distaste, he squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.
"Not easy is it, when your kid is a perpetual rule breaker?"
Frank rolled his eyes at the teasing.
"You only had one to deal with one. Try three."
Henry laughed as the younger man began to make his way up the stairs.
"No thanks son, I'll pass."
Hearing this on the sixth step, Frank couldn't help but chuckle.
As he reached his youngest son's door, he hesitated, and chuckling couldn't have been further from his mind.
Rightly or wrongly, Jamie was the hardest of his kids to discipline.
The large age gap between his youngest and his siblings meant that Jamie hadn't been involved in the many escapades of the gang that was Joe, Danny and Erin. His naturally easy going demeanour also meant that he had rarely butted heads with his parents. All in all, Jamie was the proverbial "good" child.
Frank smiled slightly to himself as he hovered.
Of course, all his children were good. But, he had a pretty, and thankfully, small amount of experience in disciplining Jamie with more than a look and a scolding. Which was why what he was about to do was so damned difficult.
Squaring his shoulders, he summoned up the anger he had felt at the risk taking behaviour of the kid, and knocked on the door.
The quiet and morose "come in" served to un-square his shoulders.
Sighing, he gently pushed the door open. Seeing his son sprawled on his bed, he shut the door and strode across the room and sat down beside him as the kid straightened up, and sat up.
"Hey son" he murmured quietly, placing the hairbrush in the middle of the two, and groaning inwardly at the look of misery that shot across his youngest face at the sight of it.
"Hey dad" he eventually answered, squirming in his seat.
There was an almost companionable silence for a moment, before Frank cleared his throat.
"You want to tell me, just what on earth you were thinking?
Jamie winced at the familiar tone that all the Reagan children were so accustomed to.
He fidgeted with his bed spread, and licked his lips nervously.
"I…uhh, well I guess I just thought that it would be a…a good way to establish myself, you know, landing a collar like that…uhh, that… gang."
Frank exhaled sharply and shook his head wearily, whilst Jamie blushed as the full force of his stupidity hit him again.
It sounded so much worse when said out loud.
"Does it still seem like a good idea now?"
The young man bit his lip and looked down.
"I guess not."
Evidently, this was the wrong answer.
"You guess?"
Jamie blanched at the sharp tone.
"No sir, it wasn't a good idea."
Frank exhaled again.
"Better."
The elder man took a deep breath.
"Jamie…why do you keep trying to prove yourself son?"
The quiet, gentle tone threw the younger man for a minute, as he struggled to answer, whilst his father waited patiently.
"I…I guess, you know…with Danny being as good as he is, and Joe as good as he was…and you being you…I just wanted to make you proud of me…to prove that I should be a cop."
He clamped his mouth shut, and squirmed in his seat, feeling more and more embarrassed by him imbecilic behaviour.
Frank stared at his youngest for a moment.
The earnest and almost vulnerable explanation tugged on his heart, and he couldn't help it as he reached out and pulled the kid into his chest for a hug.
Speaking into his mop of dusty blond hair, he kept a strong arm around him.
"Son…I've been proud of you since the day your mother told me she was pregnant with you. I was proud of you before I even met you…there is no need for you to try and make me proud, you understand?"
His kid's hair tickled his chin as he nodded his head up and down in eventual agreement.
"You've got to stop comparing yourself to Danny, or to me. We have years on the job son, you're just starting off. Every cop is a cop in their own way; you can't model yourself entirely on another officer. As your commissioner, I know you're going to be a fine cop, and then a fine detective and so on. As your father…you're my son Jamie. Just as Danny is my son, and Erin my daughter, you're different, and I'm proud of you all, equally. You don't need to do anything else. Understand?"
He felt his chin being brushed by the kid's hair as it bobbed up and down again, but the rigid torso in his arms instantly melted, and the elder of the two was assured his words had hit home.
"Good man."
He released his youngest, and was relieved to see that he was no longer so stiff with guilt, but there was a significant amount evident in the blue eyes.
"I can't let this pass without some kind of punishment Jamie. I dealt with the official side of things; there will be no ramifications on the job. Which is against everything I stand for, you know that don't you?"
Jamie nodded slowly, the guilt bubbling away in his stomach.
"This is the one and only time I will do this for you. Just like there was only one time I did it for Danny, and only one time I did it for Joe. This is your only get out jail free card, and you've used it. If you ever pull something like this again, you will face the full and strongest ramifications the department has to offer, am I clear?"
The gulping and nodding of his youngest let him know it was clear.
"You're not being punished as a police officer; you're being punished as my son, understood?"
Jamie blushed and chewed his lip.
"Yes dad."
Appraising the kid for a moment, Frank nodded. He scooted back on the bed, and looked at his son sternly.
"Stand up."
The young man blushed some more, but obediently dragged himself to his feet.
"Take down your jeans."
The heat in Jamie's face was now enough to fry a particularly over easy fried egg.
"Dad…can't I just…paint the garage or something?" he couldn't help but suddenly whine, his hands resting on the waistband of his jeans.
Closing his eyes wearily, Frank shook his head.
"Jeans down, now."
Knowing there was no hope, Jamie groaned but obediently if albeit slowly, unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to his knees.
Nodding approvingly, his father reached over and gently pulled the kid over his knee by his wrist.
He debated for a moment, before tugging his sons boxers down to meet his jeans, to the sounds of Jamie's sighing.
He generally would give the boy a bit of a warm up over his boxers, but the young man was way out of line this time.
He wrapped a firm arm around Jamie's waist, and lifted his right knee slightly.
"You understand why you're being punished Jamie?"
The morose nodding, and the muffled "yes dad" answered him, and he closed his eyes sadly.
He hated what he was about to do with a passion.
The first swat cracked around the room with a strong force, accompanied by the answering yelp from his youngest. A second swat quickly followed, and Frank was soon in full swing, meticulously spanking every inch of his sons upturned backside. His years on the force had given his hands a firm texture, and judging by the increasing amount of "oww's" and yelping coming from Jamie, he was putting them to very good use.
He didn't lecture, as he brought his hand down on the now rosy red backside, knowing that he'd said all he needed to say. Instead he wrapped his arm tighter around his son's waist as he began to squirm across his knee. He moved his hand down the soft and tender sit spots of the kids butt, and quickly lit a fire there. The yelping and whimpering instantly increased in response.
Groaning to himself, Frank forced himself to continue, drawing on the feelings of fear he had felt for his youngest son in the dangerous situation he'd been in.
The spanking continued in earnest for a another two minutes or so, before Jamie completely dispensed with his attempt at stoicism and allowed himself to begin crying across his father's knee. He cried away the guilt and remorse he felt for his stupidity as his dad's hand came down again and again.
Eventually, the last swat from Frank's hand fell and he reached over to scoop up the dreaded hairbrush that each of the Reagan children harboured a healthy hatred of.
He tightened his hold on his son, knowing that the squirming was going to take a sharp turn upwards.
Taking in a deep breath, he stiffened his resolve and took a firm grip of the heavy brush, before bringing it down sharply on Jamie's now scarlet backside.
The first yelp tore at his heart, and he closed his eyes miserably.
He brought the brush down again, and quickly settled back into a regular rhythm. His son's crying was beginning to dissipate into a quiet weeping, and he knew from experience and instinct, that his lesson had been nearly learnt.
When the youngest Reagan's torso went lip over his knee, he laid down two more stinging swats before throwing the brush down and instantly resting a hand on his son's head.
Using the other to rub the small of Jamie's back, he expertly calmed the kid down with gentle words and his reassuring presence.
He didn't attempt to dislodge the boy, allowing him to cry himself out over his knee until he had no more tears to cry.
Eventually, Jamie's breathing had returned to normal rhythm, and he made to push himself up. Frank quickly, but gently, tugged his sons boxers and jeans back into place, and waited for the young man to button them back up before reaching out and pulling him into his arms.
The younger man instantly melted, and rested his hot head against his father's chest, breathing in the familiar and calming scent.
"You ok son?" Frank asked quietly, anxiously.
Jamie sniffed slightly, before wriggling out of the embrace and looking up at his father seriously.
"Danny owes me twenty bucks" he croaked out, his voice hitched from his crying.
Frank blinked.
"Huh?"
The rueful grin that looked back at him nearly floored him with relief.
"We had a bet…that you were too old to tan us like you used to."
Frank snorted and shook his head in exasperation, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hair, before sobering again.
"How're you doing?"
Jamie instantly recognised the concern and answering immediately, and honestly.
"I'm fine dad…and… I'm sorry. I deserved that, and I won't do it again."
The smile that shone back at him was prideful.
Placing a hand on his sons shoulder, Frank looked at him seriously.
"Now Jamie…you lied to me. You told me you couldn't come to dinner, because you were ill. That was obviously not true, right?"
The kid blanched, and threw his hands back to cover his backside.
Frank couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"Your backsides safe, just answer the question. Did you lie to me?"
Jamie shuffled, wincing as the rough fabric of his jeans brushed against his scorched butt.
"Yes dad" he eventually murmured.
Frank nodded encouragingly.
"You know how I feel about that, don't you?"
The young man nodded miserably.
"You don't lie to me Jamie Reagan. Ever. Not to mention the fact that you can't lie to me. I knew there was something seriously up with you the minute you opened your mouth on that phone call, which by the way, is how we found you, courtesy of your cells GPS."
Jamie cursed that goddamned phone, as his father continued.
"You're confined to this house for two weeks, I don't care how old you are, you're a Reagan, and you don't lie to your family. You go to work, and home again. That's it, nowhere else…is that clear?"
The kid instinctively pouted sulkily, but under his father's intensifying glare and the outrageous heat in his backside, he forced himself to nod.
"Verbal question requires a verbal answer."
Biting back an exasperated sigh, much to Frank's amusement, Jamie opened his mouth.
"Yes dad, it's clear."
Feeling the full force of relief that the whole sorry incident was taken care of, and reassured that his son had learnt his lesson, Frank reached out and pulled him in for another hug.
"Love you, son" he murmured into his hair, the relief that the kid was still breathing still strong in his consciousness.
Jamie heard the relief in his dad's voice and closed his eyes in gratitude that he had a family like his, and murmured into his chest.
"Love you too dad."
Releasing the kid once more, Frank suddenly grinned devishly, and pointed at the door.
"I think your grandfather wants a word with you."
Jamie stared in horror, his blue eyes widening with apprehension.
"Oh come on…"
….
TBC
….
A/N: Please let me know what you guys think. This was super fun to write, and I'm thinking of doing a Danny/Frank storyline next.