A/N: This was originally meant to be two shorter chapters, but as I was typing, I thought it might work better as one longer chapter.

Warnings: some strong language.

"And you just wanted to wait and tell me this?" Crockett asked, voice raised.

The tone made Mike wince, as did Chet's, "See? I told you to call him!"

"I-I just wanted to be sure it wasn't nothing," Mike replied, feeling more than a little defensive.

A collective sigh went up from the men in the room.

"Well," Crockett spoke up, "you were right about one thing, Stoker. Pfeffer did end up in prison. He was arrested for drug possession, DUI, and solicitation back in '67, and he's been in the joint more often than not for violating parole. He's been out since May now, working for some mechanic, and he does own a green Ford of the year and model you described. Of course, we don't have the condition listed, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was pretty beat up. Probably all he could afford right outta the joint."

Mike pursed his lips a bit but said nothing. Crockett continued, "His record says that he wasn't really… uh, entirely sane while he was locked up. Had a few run-ins with the prison shrinks, apparently talked about revenge a lot."

"Why didn't they keep him locked up if he wants revenge?" Cap asked.

"Honestly, everyone in prison usually wants revenge on someone, whether it's someone who testified against them, or the lawyer who didn't get 'em off, or the cop who collared 'em in the first place. They never really carry these threats out most of the time, that's just some TV bullshit. If they do, it's usually husbands or boyfriends lookin' for the woman who was supposed to wait or ratted 'em out. Not really the situation we have here…"

John opened his mouth to speak, but the tones dropped for a squad call, sending the two paramedics and Cap out into the bay. Mike turned to Crockett, asking, "What can I do, lieutenant?"

"Well I'm gonna try to track Pfeffer down and question him today. Whether or not that's gonna make him back off or make him more dangerous, I just can't say. Ideally, I'd like to put you in protective custody, but something tells me you wouldn't exactly appreciate that very much."

"No, not really."

"Then I suggest you go about your daily business as usual, being cautious about your surroundings, of course. If you could stay with someone or have someone stay with you for the night, that would be best, just so you aren't alone if something does happen. I'm gonna try to see if he's at work, but you know how some of these guys lie to their POs…"

Cap returned as Crockett headed out and asked, "So, Stoker, what's goin' on?"

"A crazy guy wants revenge on me, apparently. What's new?"

"Man, it's like déjà vu all over again," Chet said, "except it's you gettin' stalked and not Charlie this ti- oh. Do you think Charlie might be in trouble, too?"

Mike's stomach flopped.

"Well… if Angie was targeted because she knows me, then I guess… I guess he might try to hurt Charlie, too. I… I hadn't thought of that before…"

"You've been staying with Chet, haven't you?" Marco asked.

"Yeah, so if Pfeffer's been following me, he sure knows I'm close with Charlie."

A tense silence fell, and Mike ran a hand through his hair. This was getting worse by the minute. Charlie and Chet have just been through so much already… I don't know what her getting hurt like that again would do to them… Knots were tying themselves up in his stomach.

"Look, it's gonna be alright," Cap said after a moment, clearly trying to cheer everyone up, "This whole thing is gonna blow over in no time at all. I know it."

He didn't exactly sound confident, but Mike appreciated what he was trying to do.

"But what about Charlie?" Chet asked, his blue eyes wide with concern, "She's already had somethin' like this happen once. If-if she got attacked like that again, Cap, I-…"

His voice broke off, and he cast his gaze down to his lap. I know, Chet. I'm with you. Cap sighed, putting his hands on his hips. Nobody wanted a repeat of the Incident.

"We'll figure something out, Chet, don't worry. Maybe she could come and stay with me and Ginny for a bit. The girls are away with some friends, so they won't be home," Cap offered, "It'll at least give her a break from your cookin'."

Chet gave him a small smile that faded quickly. It was getting pretty difficult not to worry.

xXxXx

Chet had been worried since the day before, when Mike told him about the battered green Ford. Hearing he'd then seen the car near his apartment building that night made Chet as uneasy as ever. He could remember all too well what happened two years before, when his little sister was stalked and nearly beaten to death (along with Johnny), and now it was poised to happen all over again. He felt shaky and angry, but he didn't know who to be angry at. And that's the worst part. It's easier to be pissed off when you know who to be pissed at.

"…paying attention, Kelly?"

The sound of own name drew him from his thoughts. Cap, Mike, and Marco were all staring at him. Chet blinked and blushed slightly, asking, "Sorry… could you repeat that?"

"Why don't you give Charlie a call and tell her what's goin' on, Chet?" Cap suggested, "That way she'll be informed, and you can tell her she can stay with me and Ginny if she wants."

"I dunno, I don't want her worryin' and-"

"You should tell her what's happening," Marco spoke up, "It's not fair to keep her in the dark. Besides, she's a lot stronger than we give her credit for, I think. She really deserves to know."

"Alright… alright, I'll go do it now…"

Chet slumped into the dorm to make his call.

"Hello, this is Charlotte Kelly."

"Charlie, it's Chet."

"What's up, Chet? You don't sound too good. You feelin' okay?"

"No, I'm not," he replied truthfully, "Look, there's-… this thing with Mike just keeps gettin' worse. Now, we're all okay. Nobody's hurt. Just… Mike just let everyone know about this shitty green Galaxie that he's seen around town, like it was followin' him. Crockett's pretty sure it was followin' him… so, uh… we thought it might be a good idea for you to stay with Cap for a few days."

"Why? Why do I have to go-"

"To keep you safe. This guy tryin' to mess with Mike might've targeted Angie because they were close, so if he finds out how close the two of you are, what exactly would he try to do to you, huh?"

Charlie sighed on the other end of the line but said nothing. Chet wet his lips and continued quietly, "If someone's gonna get hurt in all this… I'd much rather it be me or Mike than you. I-I don't wanna see you hurt like that again."

There was another long pause before Charlie finally agreed, "Okay… okay. I'll stay with Cap. What does Mike think?"

"No one wants to see you get hurt, sis… especially not Mike."

Mike didn't have to say it aloud for Chet to know it was true. He'd seen the evolution of their relationship firsthand, and though he was the first to admit he didn't quite understand it, he was also the first to point out that they clearly loved each other. He waited for Charlie's reply.

"Alright… I guess Cap's gonna pick me up or something?" she asked.

"We haven't exactly worked out all the details yet, but we'll call dispatch later to let you know. Just make sure you pack a bag for a few days."

"Okay, I'll be ready. And Chet? It's gonna be okay."

"Yeah, that's what Cap said."

"You should listen to him. He knows what he's talkin' about."

"I know, that's how he got to be a captain. Anyway, we'll call tonight, and then I'll be sure to call tomorrow, too."

"I'll look forward to it. Love you."

"Love you, too, sis."

He hung up the phone and went to sit on his bunk, not quite wanting to go back out into the kitchen just yet. Why does stuff like this keep happening? Can't we all just have it easy for once? There was a knock on the door of the dorm, and Marco poked his head in. Upon seeing Chet was off the phone, he stepped in all the way, shutting the door behind him. Marco walked over and took a seat on his own bunk, facing Chet. Neither spoke. Chet pulled in a deep breath and let it out, drawing comfort from the company of his friend, allowing Marco's presence to calm him.

"You alright, Chet?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah… I guess… it's just-… why does somethin' like this have to happen to us again? Isn't once enough?"

"Nothing's happened yet-"

"But it might!"

Chet looks up, knowing he probably looks entirely miserable and possibly half-crazed. Marco just looks worried, his brows slightly knit, his brown eyes soft, little lines sitting there at the corners of his eyes.

"I don't know why this is happening again. I guess… sometimes bad things just keep happening to good people."

Chet snorted. Tell me about it. Marco went on, "I'm sorry, amigo. I'm sorry these bad things keep happening to you. You don't deserve this. Not you, not Charlie, no one."

"I just wish I knew why. Things have just kept on goin' downhill since I was thirteen. The only good thing really was gettin' my job here with the department and meetin' all you guys. I-… I don't know what I'd do without all of you…"

The last sentence is quiet, so quiet Chet couldn't be sure Marco had even heard him at all. He heard the bunk across from him creak and felt his own dip under added weight, felt a comforting warmth beside him. An arm pressed against Chet's back, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Chet leaned into the warmth slightly. Marco is a hugger, after all. This is as much for him as it is for me… which is good because I sure need it a whole lot. He leaned in a little more, giving Marco a nudge in the ribs with his elbow when the older man chuckled quietly.

"I think I'll give Mama a call," Marco spoke up after a minute or so, "She'll want to pray for you. Well, she'll want to pray for everyone. I swear the woman spends half the day praying."

"We could probably use it right about now."

Marco gave Chet a quick squeeze and went to the phone, dropping in a dime and dialing his mother's number. He was soon involved in a conversation of rapid Spanish mixed with random English that Chet couldn't quite follow. He sort of understood why people needed to pray. Coming from a sizable Irish family, Chet had three cousins devoted to the Church in various places across the country: one priest and two nuns (one a Franciscan and the other a Sister of Mercy). Chet thought maybe he ought to give one or all of them a call at some point because having more prayers certainly couldn't hurt, but his thoughts were cut short by the tones dropping for a man trapped.

xXxXx

Hank was a bit surprised at how quiet Charlie was on the way to his house, but if he was being fair, he didn't have much to say, either. All of Station 51 was on edge after what happened overnight.

The tones woke the shift at about quarter after three in the morning for a burning car, so the squad was called out too in order to make sure any injured persons could be treated. Hank knew the address was vaguely familiar, like it was near something he knew, but his still sleepy mind couldn't provide the information right away. The car itself was burning in an empty lot, but only a block from the lot was the apartment building where Mike lived. Mike didn't seem too fazed at first. After all, it was probably just a stolen car the thief set on fire to get rid of. It didn't happen all the time, but it occurred often enough that that particular assumption wasn't unreasonable.

Marco and Chet got the fire out fairly quickly, and John and Roy couldn't find any evidence of injured victims either in the car or in the vicinity. Torch job it is then. Shame really. It was a early model Galaxie, I think. Someone coulda fixed that up pretty nice and drove it for years… if it wasn't rusted out anyway. Happens with Fords sometimes. Hank turned back to the engine, ready to tell his men to clean up and get back to the barn. Mike was sitting on the running board, looking too pale and like he might be sick. Hank shouted for his paramedics, and they came running.

"What is it, Mike?" John asked, "Are you hurt?"

The engineer shook his head and pointed a shaky finger at the car.

"You know whose car it is? Do you think they might be hurt?"

He shook his head again, and John and Roy shared a look. That's when Chet spoke up, "Guys, that's a green '62 Ford Galaxie 2-door hardtop… with primer on the hood and the front driver's side fender. We all know whose car this is… and we all know this wasn't an accident."

The dark tone in Chet's usually cheerful voice sent a shiver up Hank's spine. Mike turned wide, fearful blue eyes on his captain. The car was too recognizable. Pfeffer must have lit it up after being questioned by Crockett. Did Crockett mention that Mike had seen it? That he knew he was being followed? No, he's smarter than that… Hank swore quietly and called for a police officer, then carefully shuffled everyone around and sent Mike and Roy back to the station in the squad. He certainly hoped Pfeffer wasn't watching from the shadows somewhere, but if he was, he wanted to make him think Mike was John. He made sure to tell Gage and DeSoto to go available while they finished up, then told Stoker (John) he would drive the engine back because he still seemed too ill to drive. With everyone in turnouts and helmets in the dark, it was a sound plan, especially if he was the only one talking. Mike and Roy were in the kitchen when they returned. No one went back to sleep.

Hank stifled a yawn as he pulled into his driveway. He'd called Ginny yesterday afternoon to let her know Charlie would be staying with them and why, hoping secretly his wife would choose to go to her sister's or mother's for those few days in case something did happen. She, of course, refused, saying, "Hank Stanley, I promised to stick with you no matter what. If you think I'm gonna leave you at a time like this, you're crazy."

Ginny welcomed Charlie with a hug, directing her to the guest room and telling her, "Now, you just make yourself right at home, darling. I've got breakfast on right now if you're hungry, and you'll have to tell me the things you like to eat so I can be sure to get them when I go shopping later. Oh, and let me know if there's anything you don't like so I know not to make it, alright?"

Charlie was a polite guest, if a little stiff. She's just worried about her brother and Mike. Hell, I'm worried about 'em, too. He knew Chet and Charlie were close, that they were basically the only immediate family the other had left. Chet's file stated his father was deceased in '58, an industrial accident, which meant Charlie would have only been six at the time. The image of the four Kelly children at their father's funeral hurtled unbidden into his mind's eye, reminding him of the firemen's funerals he's attended, of weeping widows and glassy-eyed children who may or may not have been old enough to understand what was happening. Hank had to suppress a shudder at the dining table. He couldn't imagine his own little girls growing up without their daddy, couldn't imagine his wife raising three girls on her own. Mrs. Kelly had three boys and a girl to raise on her own… and then one died over in 'Nam- He couldn't hold back the shiver that time, but if either woman noticed, they said nothing.

Hank could honestly say he felt bad for Chet and Charlie. He couldn't say he pitied them, however. Pity wasn't what he felt at all. Hank just happened to be good at picking up on things, especially when his men were involved. He knew from listening that all their grandparents died between '58 and '68, that there was a brother between the two Kellys he knew that died over in Vietnam, and that their mother succumbed to lung cancer in '71. If there were any other deaths, Hank hadn't heard about them, but at the rate they seemed to be going, it wouldn't surprise him to hear it. He let Ginny in on this information back in their bedroom while Charlie watched some TV and finished breakfast.

"Oh, that poor kid… sounds like she lost half her family before she was twenty," Ginny whispered, "That, and then she was almost killed two years ago and-… goodness, I dunno how she does it, Hank."

"I just feel so bad. I wish there was more I could do for her and Chet and Mike."

She hummed in agreement, then asked, "Do you believe everything's gonna be alright?"

"Yes, I do… but-… I'm a little worried about what we'll have to go through before we're alright again."

Another little hum. Hank found himself reaching for her hands, wanting them to anchor him, to reassure him as they so often have.

"We can do it," Ginny said after a long moment, "Everything will be fine… as long as we all stick together. I know it."

She stood on tiptoe, smiling gently, and Hank obediently stooped to plant a kiss on her lips, giving her a smile of his own.

"Tell me, Ginny, how'd I get lucky enough to marry you?"

"Simple. I thought you were cute, absolutely dreamy, and I decided I wanted you all to myself."

"You got me."

"I sure did… and now I've got you well trained, too," she smirked, standing on tiptoe again. Hank chuckled softly, problems momentarily forgotten, and bent to kiss his wife again.

Ginny headed out to the store that afternoon, after finally getting Charlie to admit what foods she did and didn't like. Charlie had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up like a cat on one end, and Hank dutifully laid a blanket over her before deciding to doze off in his chair. A small noise woke him, something unrelated to the white noise of the TV or the air conditioner. Three daughters had Hank fine-tuned to any noises like that, especially if they might be a nightmare. He looked around blearily for the source, and sure enough, it was Charlie having a nightmare. It didn't seem like a bad one. She wasn't thrashing and tossing and crying out, but she had little twitches in the muscles of her face and arms. Hank rose from his chair without even thinking and went to sit by her on the couch, reaching out to brush some stray strands of hair from her forehead, murmuring soothingly, telling her everything would be alright. His movements were softer than he ever imagined they could have been before he'd had daughters.

He watched as Charlie shifted under her blanket, finally calming after a minute or two, her features softening. She looked about as young as his daughters in her sleep, her twenty-three years fading sharply to sixteen. Charlie shifted again, nestling closer to Hank in her sleep, and murmured something that sounded a lot like, "Daddy…"

Something twisted painfully in Hank's chest. Six… she was only six when her daddy died… Did her own father once do this for her? Did he soothe her bad dreams and little hurts? Did he tell her bedtime stories, like he used to for his children? Did he hold her when she cried and tell her everything would be alright? Hank swallowed around the lump in his throat. He adjusted her blanket to make sure she was comfortable, and murmured, "It's gonna be alright, Charlie."

His stomach gave a funny little flop he barely noticed… barely.

xXxXx

"Come on, Mike, you okay?" Chet asked, shaking his friend gently.

The engineer started, turning wide blue eyes on Chet, who felt something twist in his chest and stomach. He'd never seen Mike like this. Mike Stoker was the rock of 51s: solid, steady, calm. He was not excitable. He took the time to think before he spoke. He never got mad, and Chet was almost certain he'd never seen the man yell in anger. Mike was even there to calm Cap down if he was too amped up over something. To see Mike so truly upset was unsettling. Chet gave the older man's shoulder a comforting squeeze, saying, "Come on, Mike. We'll stop by my place so I can grab some things and then go to yours, 'kay?"

Mike was shaking visibly when he stood, his face still pale, so Chet suggested he would drive. He knew Mike wasn't well when he agreed without complaint. Both were silent on the way to Chet's apartment.

"I'm sorry," Mike blurted once they were inside.

Chet felt his mouth fall open but (for once) couldn't think of anything to say. Mike went on, his voice increasingly thick, "I'm sorry you all got dragged into this. I-I… I can't believe this happened. Now-… now, I've put everyone I care about in danger because of-… shit, I don't even know what all this is. One of my best friends was almost killed, another is danger staying with me, and-and the girl I-… shit."

Mike dropped onto the couch, his face in his hands. Chet went over to sit beside him, resting a hand on his back, telling him, "Look, Mike, none of this is your fault, babe. This is almost exactly what happened to Charlie a couple years ago, remember? It's not your fault this cat wants revenge for something that happened years ago. He's crazy. This whole fuckin' thing is crazy. No one coulda predicted somethin' like this would happen. 'Course, I'm not sayin' you can't be worried or-or scared. I am. Just don't blame yourself."

"Do… do you think they're gonna be okay? Charlie and Cap and Ginny?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Chet answered immediately, "They're gonna be okay. I know it."

Mike nodded jerkily and put his face back in his hands, still shaky, still pale. Chet remained at his side for a long moment, trying to be a comforting presence, feeling the older man lean into his warmth. He left his hand on Mike's back, feeling the strong shoulders jump as he tried not to cry out loud. I didn't realize he was this messed up over it. He never let on. Mike was so good at being silent and stalwart that no one could've guessed until last night that he wasn't handling this situation well. He could handle anything, after all. He never panicked or showed fear, even when he must be terrified for his friends' safety, even when he was hurt that spring. Chet swallowed against the growing lump in his throat and asked quietly, "You want me to make some coffee, Mike?"

"That depends," Mike sniffed, "It gonna be better than your usual coffee?"

Chet huffed, smiling, and replied, "Yeah… it'll be the best I've ever made."

Mike picked his head up from his hands and wiped at his face, sniffling loudly and drawing a shaky breath. He said, "Well, I guess I can't pass that offer up."

Chet gave his friend a solid pat on the back and went into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of black coffee. He handed the larger of the two to Mike.

"Y'know, why don't we just hang out here for a bit before headin' over to your place?" Chet suggested, "I'm pretty tired after last night… might try to catch a nap or somethin'…"

Mike made a noise of agreement, and in no time at all, they had both drifted off to sleep there on the couch… and if Chet woke to discover they were using each other as a pillow, well, whose business was that, anyway?

xXxXx

The sun was just starting to set when Mike and Chet finally got ready to head over to Mike's apartment. Chet called Cap's house to let Charlie know they were heading over and that she could call them there if she needed anything.

"Hey, she wants to talk to you," Chet said, passing Mike the phone.

"Charlie, is everything alright? Cap and Ginny treatin' you well?"

"Very. They're bein' so wonderful to me, treatin' me just like I was family," she replied, "What about you? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay…"

"Don't lie to me."

"I-… I'm just worried about you, is all."

"Funny… I'm worried about you, too."

"Look, I'm sorry… I'm sorry you have to go through all this again."

"It's not your fault," she told him, unknowingly echoing her brother, "Just… just both of you stay safe… for me. Keep each other safe."

"I'll try… for you."

"Good. Call later tonight, so I know you're both okay."

"Alright, I will. It's… well, uh… it's nice to hear your voice."

"Yeah… it's nice to hear yours, too. Anyway, I'll let you go. Stay safe. Both of you. And remember to call me, Mike."

Chet came back with his duffel as Mike hung up the phone. He gave Mike a long look and asked, "You wanna swing by the station and get your truck?"

"Nah… you better drive still…"

Chet simply nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. Mike certainly appreciated everything Chet was doing for him. He didn't have to do half as much as he'd already done. He'd let Mike stay with him, made him comfortable, made him feel like it wasn't his fault. Mike still had trouble believing that, that it wasn't his fault. It has to be… why else would I feel so shitty? He looked back to the curly-haired man driving the grubby van.

Mike felt that he understood Chet pretty well. He tended to rub most people the wrong way, usually because his mouth worked faster than his brain and because he liked to have a little fun with people. Really though, Chet was a big softie. He was the first one to try and make a little kid feel better when they were hurt or scared, to comfort a victim. Chet was first in line to cheer up his shiftmates, too, the first to offer a friendly word or a listening ear.

"Thanks, Chet," Mike said quietly as Chet put the van in park.

"Aw, it was no trouble. You don't live that far-"

"No, I don't mean just for driving here. I wanna thank you for-for everything you've been doin' for me during this whole thing. You've just been-… well, you've done a lot for me, and-and none of it was somethin' you had to do… so thanks."

Chet blinked at him for a moment, and then his expression softened. He patted Mike on the arm, saying, "You are very welcome, Mike. Come on, let's go inside. You're makin' dinner, right?"

"Sure, if you want me to."

"Of course I do! You're the best cook at the station!"

Mike chuckled, and Chet continued, "I mean, I kinda thought it was part of the deal. I'm stayin' here with you, tryin' to keep you safe, so I think I might deserve a good meal or two."

They trooped up to the second floor, Mike tense and instinctively looking around. Chet put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, saying in a low voice, "Calm down. Hey, there's no one here."

The hairs on the back of Mike's neck were on end. But it feels like someone's here… someone who shouldn't be. Can't you feel it, too? Mike didn't feel any relief when he unlocked his apartment door and went inside.

"Couch looks comfy," Chet commented, then smirked, "unless we're sharin' the bed like you offered Charlie."

"I might be willing to give up my bed to you, but I'm not sure I'd wanna share with you, Chet."

"Why not, Mike? I will have you know I am a great cuddler."

"That may be, but you snore."

Chet laughed, and some of Mike's tension ebbed away. He ducked into the kitchen to check what he had to use for dinner. He heard Chet drop his duffel.

"See, babe, you got all worried for no reas-"

Mike waited for Chet's telltale snicker, calling, "That's not funny, Chet."

He didn't hear it. The hairs on the back of his neck went up again, adrenaline beginning to course through his system. Mike slowly went into the living room.

He did not like what he found there.