Chapter 13

"Why Daddy sad?" a precocious and observant Kaylin worried later that evening as she was helping her mother with Joey's nighttime tubby. "Him sick 'gain?"

"No, baby," Eddie assured as she carefully let the little girl gently shampoo her infant brother's thin wisps of blonde hair while they kneeled beside the tub together upstairs, knowing that after a quiet dinner Henry had taken Jamie outside to sit on the back deck for some stargazing and private grandfatherly TLC coupled with a few good belts of scotch to help him come to terms with what was about to happen imminently elsewhere.

"His heart is hurting though because one of his good friends, Mr. Rigsby, isn't feeling well right now, and Daddy is upset because he misses him a lot."

"Oh, did he go 'way to a new place like Nagyanya?" Kaylin asked as she had been equally disappointed that evening to learn about her grandmother's impending departure from their home now after Eva had come home late and explained to them that her offer was accepted, and she would be moving to the new brownstone apartment near Prospect Park within the next few weeks. "Me'll miss her."

"A bit like that," Eddie agreed, tired after the long, worrisome day thinking about her husband and what he was facing with little sleep from the night before, and not in the mood to scare Kaylin or get into an existential discussion with her daughter over the concept of heaven or what might be waiting in the great beyond. "Careful of his eyes, like this, baby," she directed as they washed the sweet-smelling no-tear suds away from Joey's face and Kaylin beamed with pride at being able to help with such an important task now that her brother was at home. "Great job, Kay! You're such a good big sister! Can you get me the towel over there, so we can dry him off and make him snuggly warm now? And a new diaper too, honey," she added and lifted the baby out of his seat in the tub.

"Besides Nagyanya isn't moving too far away, only about twenty minutes so we'll still get to see her lots."

"Not at night-night time for stories," the little girl reminded her of a favorite thing she would miss as she brought the items over. "Joey likes them too," she added to bolster her case like the Harvard-educated Supreme Court justice Jamie jokingly fancied her to be someday.

"Sometimes even at night," Eddie encouraged with a smile as she dressed her son in a clean onesie for bedtime. "She's going to have a guest bedroom there all set up so you and your brother can stay over once in a while like you do at Grandpa's house."

"Will Bear get to come too then?" the little girl brightened at the thought of another place to take her best four-footed buddy for a sleepover.

"Oh, well, hmm… that's a really good question, sweetie," Eddie hedged to buy time as she searched for a way out. "I'm not sure if Nagyanya is allowed to have pets in her new apartment," she covered quickly for her mother, knowing there was no way Eva would ever permit her feline nemesis to touch so much as a paw in her new space barring a nuclear war even though the two had maintained somewhat of a truce here over the past few months. "She probably has to find out once she's there for a while, so we'll ask her about that later, okay? How about if we knock on her door and see if she'll watch Joey and tell you both another one of those stories while I go and check on how Daddy is doing?"

Having skirted that potential family crisis, Eddie made her way downstairs and paused for a few minutes in the kitchen to brew some of her favorite mixed berry decaf tea, denying a strong desire to spike it with something more substantial as she looked out on the back deck where two of her favorite men appeared to be in deep conversation.

"I feel like I should be on one of those planes with Quincy heading out there right now no matter what Rigs said," Jamie admitted as he relaxed back, staring up at the stars and a few of those slow-moving, blinking aviation lights above them on a clear night while pushing his trailing leg softly against the decking to swing just slightly in his new and very comfortable oversized hammock—a much appreciated early Father's Day present from his two beloved munchies professing their love for him to the moon and back, or so said the illustrated crayoned note that has been found with it.

"Death isn't something that requires a witness, son… you of all people should understand that considering some of the things you've gone through," Henry advised as he took a sip from his tumbler while he likewise sat back with his feet up on the wicker coffee table, feeling the warmth as the amber liquid went down, and thankful to be able to enjoy the fine taste as he had not needed anything stronger than a few ibuprofen the past few days.

"Isn't exactly something I'd want to face alone again either if I didn't have to," Jamie answered honestly.

"Then that's your choice, and it depends on the circumstances doesn't it? Sometimes maybe this is better. The world doesn't always turn around us, and it's not your call in this case. Going against what someone else wants and making it about you is wrong."

"I know, but this doesn't feel right either."

"You're not responsible for Rigs' cancer any more than you were for your own mother's or what happened to Joe. Just like your father wasn't responsible for any of that or Gerry's death, although it took him a long time to come to grips with both."

"Gee, I wonder where we get that from?" Jamie chided his grandfather with a soft frown as he glanced over, having been already brought up to speed with the story of his father's tragic experience in the war. "What happened to Grandma Betty wasn't your fault either, Pop; it was another heart attack that took her and yet you've carried that guilt all these years."

"Maybe not for that, but it was my fault the way she spent those last two months… it wasn't what she wanted, Jamie. I went against her wishes and forced her to have that surgery when she had already made her peace. I couldn't… or wouldn't… accept the fact that she was ready to be with Peter because I wasn't ready to let her go. Those final weeks at home when I had to care for her because of the complications… to do everything for her… she lost her dignity, and that wasn't right because it's all she had left. I took that from her, and I regret to this day that I didn't listen. It was purely selfish. Rigs wants to hold on to what he was before, so let him have that. He's counting on you to be there for Quincy now... to be his family. Remember him that way; that's how you two boys need to honor him."

"I will," Jamie promised softly as he knew his grandfather was being honest on all counts and a bit of peace came to his heart while he grew to accept those directions from the Commander as the right thing to do in this case just as his beloved wife stepped out on the deck to join them. "C'mere, lambchop," he offered, wanting to feel her close, and she gratefully joined him to lay pressed up against his side as he wrapped his arms around her tightly and continued his slow, soothing rocking motion back and forth. "Thank you for this… all of it," he whispered with a kiss as he held her, and she melted into his touch. "I love you and the kids so much more than anything else… you're my life."

"Aw, we love you too, and I see Pop and the scotch are working their magic," she replied in a relieved tone and gave silent thanks to find him in a much more mellow state, although her curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to make sure she hadn't missed anything important since Henry had promised not to continue the rest of story without her. "So where did he leave off? Did he tell you about Albert Thompson?"

"You mean the part about Dad finally hitting rock bottom after less than a year on the job because he let stuff get to him and didn't think he deserved to come back home or be happy after what happened to Gerry? Yeah," Jamie acknowledged with another squeeze and a vow to heed the lesson. "I got the message."

###

"C'mon, Frankie… you look like hell this morning," Lenny Ross smirked as he looked across the parked squad car at his young partner who was obviously still feeling the effects of their wild night before, which had culminated in what he considered a most satisfying fashion with a beautiful international blonde on a layover in his bed around four in the morning, leaving little time for sleep before their scheduled first shift. "Here, take a hit… hair of the dog," he advised as he pulled a small flask out from under the front seat. "Do you a world of good."

"Not sure how you're so together," Frank grumped openly as he rubbed his exhausted, aching head and pushed it away. "We're on duty."

"Oh, what?" Lenny laughed as he unscrewed the cap and followed his own advice anyway, dumping a good measure in his coffee. "What is it? The part about hanging the kid off the roof or winding up the night with the two stews at the Hotel Oswald?"

"Both."

"Hey, look around… this city's an ugly mess, and we're the sheriffs in charge of taking it back block by block. You did what was needed to get him... he's a damn skell that took down a cop… one that was standing right next to you when he got hit. In my book that deserves a medal even if your father doesn't think so. Should have done us all a favor and let him drop four stories… woulda showed the rest of them we mean business. And what happened after? Well, so everyone wanted to buy you a drink… we had a rough day yesterday and needed to unwind a little. Besides, we're both single, and that last part happened when we were off-duty. No harm done."

"Not proud of it."

"Well, I'm proud of it… we got a wannabe cop killer off the street."

"At what cost? He only became that because we went in there with our guns out first and asked questions later," Frank asked with a heavy heart since the events of the last twenty-four hours or so were just catching up with him now as the shock and subsequent alcohol stupor were both beginning to wear off. All of this had started just before dawn the day before when three hand-picked units had been sent in as backup with a pair of detectives to roust a suspected gang member out of his E. 100th St. Harlem apartment, albeit with questionable intel and thin probable cause. An enthusiastic and gung-ho rookie, Frank had nonetheless volunteered for the entry team and had been just behind the lead officer as they breached the door when a bullet fired nearly instantaneously from the living room missed him by a narrow margin before striking Officer Williams in the upper arm.

"Turns out he wasn't even in the gang… just a kid scared out of his mind, not fifteen yet, trying to protect himself after he and his brother had been threatened for refusing to get jumped in. We did their dirty work for them, Len. It was a message… someone played us. The whole thing stinks of a setup."

"Yeah, sure. Hey, the NYPD hits your door, tells you to get down and your first reaction is to pull a nine-mil from under the couch cushion, shoot a cop and jump out a fourth story window to get away, you're no angel. He deserved what he got and more," Ross insisted with contempt and no mercy. "You're just lucky that Williams took the hit. A split-second difference and that would have been you with a neat little hole drilled through your chest."

"Almost wish it woulda been," Frank admitted to himself under his breath as the guilt of watching while yet another comrade took a round meant for him had pushed him very nearly over the red line. "He has a family… a wife and kid," he reminded. "Doc says there's nerve damage. He may never work the street again."

"Yeah, that's too bad, but if he wanted to protect them, he shoulda transferred outta here. This is the Wild, Wild West, Frankie… and don't you forget it… a place for screw ups and young guns looking to make their bones like us."

"I guess," Frank agreed as his heart panged at that notion, not sure where on that spectrum he fell. His low rank and status upon graduation from the academy had left him with few options for rookie placement, even with a big whale of a hook who had solidified his position as Chief of Detectives and was garnering the growing respect of those around him for a move further up the chain of command. Henry's disappointment with his son's conduct since his return to the states had become a point of contention that shoved a wedge between them culminating in the fight that caused his father to kick him out of the family home and promise him no favors. This reckless lifestyle and attitude had long since driven Mary away as well, even though she had done her best to be patient and help him try to turn things around in the beginning before it became apparent that action was well above her pay grade. The final straw had come a few days after his appointment to the 2-5 when he had irresponsibly taken those funds that had once been earmarked for a ring and a life together and had instead plunked it all down on a brand-new blue '71 Chevy SS Chevelle… one just like Gerry had spent countless hours longing for all those months in country. A single look at that car as he drove up and Mary had merely turned and walked away again.

"I'm telling ya," Lenny continued in the background. "Going out the window after him alone and chasing that kid up the fire escape before jumping across three rooftops like a bull moose, then hanging him off the edge like that when he slipped will get you respect around here. I almost thought you were gonna drop him for what he did," he chuckled with a smug look over. "Should have, woulda made you a bigger hero than you already are."

"Almost did," Frank answered, and the natural way that admission came out was a shock, even to his own bitter mind. He remembered the frightened eyes of that boy, Albert Thompson, looking up at him while he literally held his life in his hands. But for the grace of God he hadn't let go even though he had honestly wanted to. Had he really fallen that far? To the point where he was willing to do anything to retaliate against the perceived enemy, becoming no better than a cold-blooded killer himself? Those minutes after the grenade had exploded in the jungle and taken with it his best friend had been spent flat on his back, reeling from both the physical and mental pain of what he had seen plus multiple shrapnel wounds, staring up at the sky and waiting for his own end to come, his only regrets being that he'd never see his sweet Mary Margaret again and would be unable to avenge Gerry's death by taking at least one of them with him before it happened.

"And I'm no hero," he choked back some fresh grief for both those losses as he considered what that word truly meant and who it should be reserved for. "Don't ever call me that again."

###

"Geez, no wonder why Mom always hated that car," Jamie mused as he considered his current feelings towards the vehicle which sat in a garage not far away and had been ingrained through so much of the family's history, yet had nearly taken everything from them on more than one occasion. "Surprised she let him keep it after they were married. How'd they ever get back together after all that?"

"That day was a big wake up call for Francis," Henry admitted with a wry glance over at his grandson. "Albert Thompson was set up, he was a victim himself, and your Dad almost crossed that line between justice and vengeance, Jamison… and you know how that is, don't you?" he added with obvious emphasis, of course referencing that time Jamie himself had taken things into his own hands after ditching his partner Vinny at the bodega to pursue a suspect in his grandfather's mugging at the ATM, having nearly done the same as his father when he likewise chased a perp across the rooftops until he was dangling high above.

"Must run in the family," he coughed. "Like father, like son."

"Huh?" Eddie puzzled as she had no frame of reference as to what they were talking about. "Danny you mean… not the boy scout? You did that?"

"Um… well, there were extenuating circumstances, and I'll tell you about it later," Jamie downplayed with a guilty smirk and shake of his head, vowing that the details of that little story of him going off the reservation would never come out. "Besides, Pop, I had the right guy, and you already admitted that in my case you would have dropped him yourself... I didn't. Now, what about Mom and Dad?"

"Oh, well, your father's eyes were finally open, and he could see the handwriting on the wall. He knew if he stayed up there with the crew at the 2-5, that eventually, he'd wind up jaded just like Lenny and the rest of them, so he came to see his mother and me the next night and asked for our help to clean up his act a little…"

###

"Henry! It's after nine o'clock! Someone is knocking on the front door! Were you expecting a visitor this late?" Betty Reagan fretted as she hovered in the kitchen dressed in her housecoat and slippers, afraid to answer it herself and instantly rendered anxious since in her experience as a cop's wife, nothing ever good came of an unannounced late-night call. Even though Frank was still estranged from them, that didn't mean she worried any less with the knowledge he was out on the streets wearing a badge like a target at any given time.

"Please tell me, 'tis not an officer?" she begged to know in a shaky voice as her husband went to the door and peered out.

"Yes, but it's one you'll be happy to see again… at least I hope so," he added under his breath as he undid the locks and opened the door wide to reveal a sheepish-looking Frank Reagan standing nervously on his parents' front porch, still dressed in his patrol uniform with that much-maligned Chevelle parked out front by the curb.

"Francis," he stated simply as Betty rushed over before pausing at her husband's shoulder to hold back a little as they both tried to read their prodigal son's state.

"What's wrong, dear?" she queried finally after a long, uncomfortable silence before going to his side and squeezing his arm as she waited for some notice as to what this was about while looking up in the face of her six-foot-four son that despite everything he had witnessed to her still held the innocence of a child.

"Tell us," she encouraged softly once more.

"I um… well, you said not to come back until I was ready to talk…" Frank finally admitted through a rough, raspy voice filled with emotion as he bit his cheek and tried unsuccessfully to quell it, but the once tightly held valve was opened, and that was enough, he had his mother's welcoming arms wrapped around him like a loving vice grip before he could say another word.

"Come in then, dear, it's your home again. I've been waiting along with all me heart to hear you say those words to us," Betty assured as she led her son into the living room and sat by his side on the couch, never relinquishing her taut hold on him for the next several hours as they spoke honestly through tears about what had brought him back to this place, and forgiveness was offered and accepted on all sides. Henry had heard the reports about the incident the day before of course, and it was with great relief that he convinced Frank there was a better course forward for him to take in the department.

###

"Only time I ever pulled a hook for him," Henry concluded with a smug smile as he looked out over the yard and recalled that night. "I could see it was a real turning point for the boy and the next day worked an immediate transfer to the 3-5 so he could stay here at home with us again. Living under this roof with his mother watching him like a hawk put him back on the straight and narrow pretty quick. A few weeks later he decided it was time to see Mary…"

So, there was a bit of a housekeeping in the past few chapters since a few elements for the next installment had to be set in place as Eva and Armin Janko's unresolved feelings for one another will be tested once he is released from prison, and the events that follow will shake their daughter's faith in her father to the core again. Next, we finally will hear directly from Mary as Frank tries a smooth move to pick up his old flame, hoping that absence has made the heart grow fonder, but will it backfire?