Sunlight was streaming through the French doors of their hotel room by the time they woke up the next morning. Jack McCoy had just finished dressing when he heard a knock on the door. McCoy was taken aback when he found his by daughter smiling ath his confusion, when he opened the door.

Rebecca grinned at her father as he embraced her. The radiant glow coming from his daughter seemed to transform her from the unsure young girl he'd raised into a vibrant woman who was clearly confident in who she was and what the future held.

"Thank you for coming out such short notice, Daddy."

"Daddy," McCoy sputtered as he kissed her forehead and held her out for further inspection. "You haven't called me that since you turned thirteen."

"Well, I hoped I've matured a little since then," she said as she glanced around. "Where's Brooke?"

"In the bathroom getting ready. As for coming out, did you really think your old man wouldn't fly out to check out this groom of yours himself? It's not every day a man loses his only daughter."

"Oh Dad. You didn't lose me, you just gained a son-in-law."

"How did that line go over with your mother," McCoy countered with a knowing smile. "You know she's been planning your wedding since you were old enough to ask for Bridal Barbie."

Rebecca flushed slightly as she shifted her feet uncomfortably. McCoy recognized the nervous habit and his eyes widened.

"Rebecca Eileen McCoy," he said with feigned sternness. "If you think I'm telling your mother you got married without her-"

"Of course not Dad! I called her to get my courage up to tell you I'd gotten married without you to walk me down the aisle. I, I hope you're not too hurt-"

"Becky," McCoy began as she lifted her chin and met her sheepish gaze. "I won't say I didn't want to walk you down the aisle, but you know the bottom line for me has always been your happiness. Now, what is it you haven't told me…or your mother?"

Rebecca sighed heavily as she leaned closer to her father and looked up at him with resignation.

"Sadie,Sadie, married lady!"

The pair turned towards the bathroom and Brooke emerged, looking at the younger woman with delight as she crossed the room to embrace Rebecca. McCoy watched as the two women exchanged pleasantries. As they embraced, his daughter began to express her regrets about the baby. McCoy quickly caught her eye, as he briskly shook his head and interjected a comment about lunch to redirect the conversation.

"Actually, Charlie thought you might like to go somewhere that's still serving breakfast. There's a little café near the tower and the river-"

"He's meeting us there," McCoy asked as he reached for the two jackets that lay on a nearby chair.

"He's getting a table while I get you two."

"Well, then let's go. I have a few questions for this mystery son-in-law of mine."

"Questions? Such as," Rebecca warily asked.

"Such as, has this glorified reporter ever worked for a rag called the New York Ledger," McCoy shot back as he opened the door.

As the three made the short walk from the hotel to the café, Rebecca not only assured her father her new husband had no association with the Ledger or any other 'National Inquire knock off' and preceded to answer the laundry list of questions about her new husband that the two prosecutors tag teamed her with.

"No, yes, and maybe," Henning deadpanned as they crossed the avenue, bringing the Eiffel Tower into view. "No, Charlie has never worked on the tabloid circuit, although he read the series the Ledger ran about the falling out Dad and I had while he was living in New York a few years ago. Yes, we will definitely be back in the states when his contract is up here in a few months and there is a chance we will be moving to Manhattan. Charlie has a few offers on the table and there are more opportunities for me to expand my career if I'm closer to the major U.S. publications, so yes we are considering New York. But don't get your hopes up until he signs a contract. Remember, if we move back to the city, we'll have to find a townhouse or an apartment and you know what rent to like so…"

"You know, your Dad just got the last of his stuff out of his old place not too long ago," Brooke reminded her. "I bet if he talked to his old landlord you two could stay there, at least until you two have more time to look for something bigger."

"And if you don't mind a little commuting, you know the cottage at the beach is yours," McCoy offered while his expression betrayed his natural excitement at the prospect of having his daughter nearby.

Becky shook her head in amazement and squeezed her father's arm.

"Come on you two, let's see how things play out before we start buying furniture and picking out houses. After all, I'm still adjusting to being a bride, as well as the fact I'll be a m-"

"Becks! Over here!"

McCoy turned to follow his daughter's gaze and immediately found himself at once concerned and comforted.

The man who stood beside the gate that led to the flower adorned café by the River Seine was tall and dashing looking in his tweed jacket and Oxford shirt that was open at the neck. To McCoy's fatherly eyes Henning to be maybe a few years younger than his EADA Michael Cutter, which made him approximately ten years Becky's senior.

While the difference in age raised parental red flags, the looks the couple exchanged as they were reunited made their happiness evident to anyone with eyes.

"Daddy, Brooke, this is my husband, Charlie," Becky said excitedly as she held onto her husband's forearm.

"Jack McCoy. It is a real honor to meet you at last," the younger man as he extended his hand. "Congratulations on your appointment. Arthur Branch couldn't have picked a better replacement."

Brooke and McCoy exchanged surprised glances as the two men shook hands.

"You sound like you've been a New Yorker at some point Charlie," Brooke remarked as the hostess moved towards them.

A few minutes later the group had been seated at a table that over looked the river. Once the hostess left to fill their drink orders, Henning explained that he had been raised in Manhattan and had only left the city a decade before to take his current position with a critically acclaimed news magazine in its Paris bureau.

"I remember reading about several of your cases over the years, Mr. McCoy. In fact both my parents are quite close to Adam Schiff and he's mentioned you on more than one occasion."

"Adam was a very patient mentor," McCoy responded with the same wistful smile that came to his lips whenever he thought about his former boss.

As the two men continued to discuss matters of business and Manhattan, Becky turned to Brooke as their drinks arrived.

"How are you and Dad doing," she asked quietly after the waitress had set their drinks down and taken their order of lunch. "When Danielle called I wanted to fly home and be there for you both, but it was a zoo here. American Airlines had unexpectedly grounded its flights for maintenance checks and –"

"Listen, you're allowed to have a life. I know your Dad will appreciate the thought, but neither of us expected you to drop everything and fly home," Brooke responded in a hushed tone as she squeezed her step daughter's hand. "Your Dad is fine. He's been wonderful, but I know he needed a distraction. We both did. Your call couldn't have come at a better time," she continued as she held up Becky's hand and inspected the twin bands on her finger. "The ring is gorgeous! I want to hear every romantic detail and see every picture you had taken of the wedding. Your Dad said it was here in Paris?"

"Actually, Charlie proposed in Monte Carlo," Becky explained, as the two men turned to listen. "We'd been down there to cover a story on the annual Baccarat tournament and I had just won a hand at one of the poker tables-"

"A hand," Henning interjected incredulously as he turned to McCoy. "Beck's gift for understatement always amazes me. Your daughter won the pot in a high stakes poker game with several of the local champions. I warned her that these men were professional sharks and she informed me quite proudly, she'd been taught the game by the best and had hustled in every pool hall between Centre Street and the Bronx. Obviously, that skill paid off in Monte Carlo, as well."

McCoy smiled at the memory of the first time he and Lennie Briscoe had taken his daughter to learn the rules of the game. It was a week after her twenty-first birthday. The rift that would survive almost a decade had begun to form between them and unspoken tension hung between them the moment she'd walked into Bennie's Bar& Grill; once Briscoe arrived no trace of animosity was allowed to survive the night.

Before the night was over the two men and not only trained their young apprentice in the ways of darts and pool, Briscoe had demonstrated the numerous ways a man in a bar could try to get a bright beautiful and newly legal young woman into a less than wholesome situation and McCoy had taken on the task of teaching the novice how to pace one's drinking and walk away from a win before walking away wasn't an option.

Although their relationship deteriorated fast after that night, it was an evening that remained a fond memory in both of their minds.

"Hum, when you tell your mother this story, feel free to give Lennie all the credit for turning you into a professional gambler, will you?"

"Dad," Becky said with a knowing grin. "Where exactly did you think Mom, Danielle, and Judge Petrvosky took me the next weekend? Between Lennie and Judge Petrovsky, I'm surprised I didn't make my name in Atlantic City, instead to doing through the four years of hell you and Mom insisted on at Cornell."

As the group laughed McCoy shook his head in mock dismay.

"Just remember without that 'hell' you'd have never of landed the job that apparently landed you a husband. Oh and when exactly is your mother arriving? I'm surprised she wasn't on the first flight out when she heard about the wedding."

"She and Don were waiting for her jury to come back. She called this morning from the airport. They'll be meeting us at the villa Saturday. Actually, that works out nicely since Charlie and I have to stay in Paris until Charlie puts next month's addition to bed."

"I thought the point of this trip was for me to have time to properly interrogate the man that swept you off your feet until I was satisfied he was good enough for my daughter," McCoy joked.

"Oh you'll have time enough for that," Henning assured him. "We should be down Saturday afternoon, Saturday night the latest and our calendar's are clear until Thursday, so you'll have plenty of time to get out the rack or whatever other means of persuasion you might have in mind."

"Besides Dad, this will give you and Brooke at least one more night to yourselves. You two didn't even get a honeymoon, so just relax enjoy the train ride and make yourself home at the villa."

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When McCoy finally laid down on the twin size bunk his daughters comments came to his mind causing him to grimace as he glanced around the tiny compartment.

"What's wrong Jack?"

"Nothing. I'm just gaining a rapid appreciation for Amtrak," he said as he gingerly rolled onto his side and faced his wife.

"Remember she's a newlywed, Jack. For her, closeness is still a romantic thing," Brooke said as she found her back pressed against the wall of the tiny sleeping compartment.

"Closeness is still romantic to me, but crowded is not. Listen, if we spoon you might have a little more room," he offered as he stood up once more.

The compartment itself looked fine in the brochure his daughter had handed him. It had a private bathroom and two twin bunks along with a small table that stood between two seats that looked out over a window that showed the French countryside as it whisked passed them while the train made its way south.

"You're sure you don't want to break down and sleep in the top bunk?"

McCoy shook his head as he lay down once more. Although he and Brooke had slept apart more than once since their recent marriage, neither of them relished the idea of being apart again. Once they had seen the sleeping choices, both had agreed a little inventiveness was better than spending even one night of their vacation in separate beds.

"If this doesn't work, I say we throw the bedcovers on the table and make a bed out of that," he replied as he wrapped his limbs around her. "How's that?"

"Better. So, what's the verdict? You still haven't told me what you think of your new son-in-law."

"She seems happy. That's what matters."

Brooke strained to look over her shoulder and meet his eyes. What she saw made her smile sympathetically.

"Becky's happiness matters. So does her father's. Tell me."

"I'll sound like a hypocrite."

"Most fathers' are," she said with a sigh. "You're a man. You see things she won't. That doesn't mean you're a hypocrite. It means you love her. Tell me."

"He's solid, or so he seems. The idea they might be back in Manhattan…that will thrill Liz…I know I'd love to have Becky closer to home. He seems smart, self assured..."

"Oh man. Are you going to make me be the bad guy? Do I have to say it," Brooke asked impatiently.

"No. I'll say it: He's too old for her."

"And she's not eating," Brooke chimed in and smiled at his surprised scowl.

"You noticed that too?"

Brooke nodded as she laboriously turned her body until she faced him once more.

"I noticed you noticing," she replied gently. "Jack, I know you know this, but it has to be said; she's not a little girl anymore. She's an internationally acclaimed photojournalist. She didn't get there being naïvee and unsure of herself. She a confident, intelligent young woman; something I have no doubt you are at least partially responsible for."

"You think I'm over reacting?"

"I think you're being protective," she countered as she ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you're comparing Charlie to the scoundrel you were at that age; a cocky, brass, young man who was arrogant enough to think you could take on the world and win-"

"Sounds like you did a background check on me," he grumbled.

"I'm surprised you didn't do one on Charlie…you… you didn't, did you Jack," she asked with caution as McCoy lowered his eyes. "Oh man! If Becky ever finds out-"

"I didn't do it, I just thought about it," he said gruffly. "If I had, I wouldn't have done a double take when I realized the man has to be a good ten years older than she is."

"Yeah, ten years," Brooke said as she tried to suppress her laughter. "That puts them miles apart."

"I told you I'd sound like a hypocrite. I know. You and I have a gap of sorts. Liz and I had nine years between us, but-"

"She's going to be fine, Jack. She didn't get married to shock you. She didn't get married because she had to. She got married because she loves him. You know that, right? You know no child of yours would do anything they didn't want to do."

"I suppose," he grudgingly admitted. "I suppose she could have done worse."

"Harvard graduate, managing editor of one of the top magazines in the country, a guy that appears to adore her…yeah Jack… I suppose she could have done worse."

"You know," McCoy began coyly as his hands noiselessly slipped under the covers. "There are consequences to being such a wise ass."

"You'll end up on the floor if you try it," she warned as his hands crept under her nightshirt.

"We'll see," he responded as she gasped while his hands mercilessly tickled and probed.

As Brooke struggled against him, eventually the hands that had been pushing him away rested on his shoulders while the tickling lessened and the probing increased before he silenced her protests with a kiss.