"Hey, Slyv." Andy whispered, kneeling down awkwardly by the headstone of his murdered wife, laying the small bunch of flowers gently by the stone marker that signified where the woman he loved was buried.

He'd come here regularly for years, especially as Theo got older, knowing it was important that his son remembered the magnificent woman his mother was. He'd been no more than a toddler when she'd been shot and killed at the court house, yet it seemed important to Andy that her memory lived on, even when she no longer did.

He'd hardly been here in the last six months. He'd been consumed by the care and attention that John had needed, spending nearly all of that time in Miami trying to help his old partner get back on his feet.

He'd stopped by here the last time he'd returned to New York, promising his wife that there was important work he needed to do in Miami and giving his word that he would always come back as often as he could to visit and honour her memory.

Judging by the neatly-trimmed grass, it was obvious that Theo had been here recently, no doubt on break from his college studies. He smiled as he remembered the nights he and his son would sit in the ratty old armchair of their apartment, the young boy on his lap, as they looked through old photos of the woman they'd both lost.

He wished he could hold on to those days when Theo was nothing more than a young boy, so full of wonder and innocence about the world. After coming home from a hard shift at the precinct, Theo would clamber up on to his lap, asking him to tell him another story about his mother and it would be enough to help him relive those precious memories of his time with her.

As Theo grew older, his inquisitiveness about his mother lessened as he learned to accept the fact that she was no more than a memory and one that he could not remember all that clearly, being so young when she'd died. Theo had grown up and left for college and it seemed as if the only thing that still tied father and son was the loss of Sylvia, but even that didn't seem like enough these days.

"I see Theo's been here recently," he remarked, admiring the neat lines of his wife's final resting place. "He looks just like you, you know."

He laughed to himself. It was a good job Theo took after his mother in the looks department. Andy Sipowicz could fool himself about many things, yet there was no denying he'd been ridiculously lucky that a woman as beautiful as Sylvia had fallen in love with him. He was no looker, the years of hard living had taken their toll on his body, he knew he was no one's idea of a catch, but Sylvia had obviously seen something in him that was worth loving – even if he had no idea what it was.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back here, John's been keeping me on my toes."

The mention of his old partner brought back fresh memories of the last time he'd been here. He'd been so full of determination to do the right thing when it came to John, refusing to see anything other than what needed to be done to clear his name. He'd promised Sylvia that he would do everything in his power to never let the man down again.

He was a bitter, grumpy old man who'd had too many run-ins with alcohol, yet he was also a man who kept his word once he'd given it. John had tested his patience severely at times, with his depressive mind-set and inability to stop blaming himself for what had happened. There were times that he'd had to throw the man against a wall and shake some sense into him, willing John to keep fighting despite the emotional baggage that seemed intent on dragging him in to the dirt.

His methods might have been unorthodox, but a part of him liked to think that they had worked in some small way. The way he'd handled the stubborn fool might not have been a textbook example of how to deal with an emotionally scarred man, but they were his rules and he was making them up as he went along.

"That guy's damned hard work at times," Andy muttered, placing his hands on his thighs, shaking his head ruefully. "I might've lost my temper with him once or twice…."

He smiled as it occurred to him that Sylvia would probably have said the same thing about her errant husband. How many times had she let him have his fits of pique and temper tantrums? How many times had he stuck his head in the sand and refused to change his ways, even when she showed him that there could be a better way?

Maybe he and John were too alike. Two peas in a pod – both stubborn as mules and set in their ways.

"Truth is that I feel so out of my depth, Sylv. I honestly don't know what to do at times to help him… God, if I could go back and change what I did….I never would have let him choose the path he did."

Even before he'd said it, he knew it was wishful thinking on his part. John was nothing if not resourceful and sneaky when he'd needed to be. He doubted he ever would have guessed what his partner had been up to until it had been too late. Still, it didn't stop him feeling as if he could've or should've done more to help him.

"I probably won't be able to make it back here for a while. I need to go back with John….help him get his feet back on the ground...the same way he did for me."

Memories came to mind of the way John had stood by him through those dark days in the early nineties. He'd been a useless drunk, yet his partner had done everything in his power to keep him on somewhat of an even keel. The poor guy had carried him for the best part of three years, always steadfast in his support when it came to his partner.

There had been times when he nearly lost his rag with the young and naïve John Kelly. The man had been insistent on sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted as he tried desperately to stop him drinking himself into an early grave.

And he nearly had. The whole Marino debacle had almost cost him his life, yet who had been there when he woke up in the hospital?

His partner.

When he'd been shot and hospitalised, John would have been well within his rights to request a new partner. Yet he hadn't. The young fool had waited for this old soak to crawl off of his considerable ass and make his way back to work, treating him as if nothing had changed in those last few months.

Now the tables had been turned, it was his chance to repay back some of the faith and loyalty that John had shown in him. Granted, the man could have done with some loyalty and faith twenty years ago, but there was no use in grumbling over something that couldn't be changed. Deserving or not, he had been given a second chance at repairing a friendship that had been fractured for too long and he was determined that this would be an opportunity he would not throw away.

He stopped talking, feeling as if someone were standing close by, watching him. Lifting himself to his feet, he looked over his shoulder and found Kyle standing on the path a few feet behind him.

"That's John's boy, Kyle. He's a good kid….just like his father….. I gotta look after them….keep an eye on them, you know? If I ever have grandkids…..I want them to be like that boy."

Clearing his throat, he made his way back to the young man he considered a part of his own family.

He'd appreciated that Kyle had given him a few moments to himself at the graves of his parents, smiling to himself as he once again marveled at the fine young man his boy was becoming.

Now he was here, he suddenly found himself not knowing what to say to the two people who had always seen the best in him and had never once doubted that their son would grow into a good man. His father had died when he was no more than a boy and while his mother had been elderly and infirm when she finally passed away, neither of them truly knew that their only son was a criminal.

Had his parents been watching over him, knowing he'd only done those things because he felt as if he'd had no choice? He'd been placed in an impossible situation and no matter which way he turned, someone was going to get hurt.

And so he chose to put himself at risk, protecting those around him by pushing them away, making them think he was something he wasn't. That had been his intention at the time, yet the lines between good and bad, right and wrong, had become so blurred that he became unable to differentiate between the two.

He'd slipped into the role of petty criminal so easily that it frightened him. After being kicked off the force he'd sunk into the murky criminal underworld and at times had found himself at ease there. The lies flowed so easily from his tongue that he'd started to believe them himself. Had his parents been watching over him, protecting him from any real harm during his time undercover?

Well, he'd got away with it for twenty years, almost fooling himself that he could outrun his past. It had been a mistake that ended up costing him dearly. All of those people that he'd loved and lost, if they were looking over him then why hadn't they done anything to protect him from those sadistic Malucci monsters?

After everything he'd sacrificed, he'd been left to the mercy of those thugs. The next generation of Malucci's were just as unforgiving as their fathers as they set about seeking vengeance on the man who'd destroyed their family.

Had it been the divine intervention of his loved ones in Heaven that saved him from dying out at sea?

A part of him had meant what he'd said to Andy, that he would rather be dead than stuck in the endless mire of this pitiful existence.

How cruel could life be to one man? What had his beloved Marisol meant when she'd told him that he had to go back, that his work wasn't done yet? What else was there left to do, how much more blood did he have to spill before he could finally rest in peace?

There were days when he honestly didn't know, days where he couldn't see the point of such a torturous existence. Yet there were other days when everything seemed so right. Many of those times had been with Calleigh, she had been the one to show him that there was a reason to carry on, even when the road seemed too long to travel.

And then there was his boy. His dear, sweet Kyle. The two of them had grown so close during his recovery that he honestly couldn't bear the thought of not having his son in his life. If he ever lost his boy he knew that it would be the death blow, the final nail in his coffin. The loss of Kyle would destroy him, he would never be able to recover or live another day without him.

And then there was Andy. A man he'd feared would hate him for the rest of his life. The fates had smiled upon them, giving both men a fresh start at a friendship that once meant so much. It had been difficult and awkward at first as the two of them felt each other out, yet it was not long before they'd fallen back into the groove of their relationship.

His anger and pity were self-indulgent, proving destructive and costly when it came to his relationships with the people closest to him. This return to New York had been unexpected and unwanted, but it had provided him with the chance to finally lay a few of his demons to rest.

He had started with the NYPD, making them know in no uncertain terms that he owed them nothing. He'd paid his debt to them repeatedly and had finally made a stand against both them and the FBI, making it clear that he would no longer be a puppet that could be jerked when they felt like it.

Losing his cool with the Chief had been embarrassing, yet it had also been strangely liberating as he found himself suddenly more at peace than he had felt in days. He had made his position with the NYPD clear, he would not bow to their demands. His job and his duty to them were done. He would walk away from this city knowing he'd given his all and that he would do no more.

He would no longer apologise to the suits that had left him at the hands of the Malucci's. He'd given everything and received nothing return for his troubles. Although there were people he still had to make things right with, the NYPD was no longer one of them.

And what better place than to start with his parents? They were the two people who would have felt his seeming betrayal the deepest had they still been alive to witness it. Perhaps it had been their good fortune that they hadn't.

"Mom, Dad…." The words seemed to die in his mouth, what could he possibly say to explain his actions? "I've done a lot of things I wished that I hadn't, but I tried to do them for the right reasons… I want you to know that…uh….I've got good people around me….the type of people you'd be proud of…Kyle….he's such a good boy….more than I deserve…. I only wish you'd been around to meet him."

Clearing his throat, he found himself getting uncharacteristically choked up at the thought of just how many good people he had around him right now. "You know why I haven't been back until now, I can't come back either…..I know you understand why it has to be this way….I can't be here….this isn't my home anymore. I have a life and people who care about me in Miami and I want you to know that I'm doing ok. Things aren't great, but I'm getting there…..day by day."

He wiped furiously at the errant tears escaping from his eyes, pulling himself to his feet quickly. "I love you. Always have, always will."

"So, the rumours are true. John Kelly…back from the dead."

He'd recognised the voice in an instant.

How could he have ever forgotten it?

"You ok, Andy?"

He turned and smiled at the young man whose eyes conveyed the concern he obviously felt toward him. What did he or John ever see in him other than a bitter old man?

He didn't know and was much too tired to hazard a guess as to why right now. This trip was turning out to be an emotionally draining one for him too and he had no doubt that Kyle felt the same way.

It had felt good to pay his respects to Sylvia, it had enabled him to keep a lid on the guilt he felt for not visiting her final resting place more often. His wife had often been more pragmatic than he, using logic and intellect to dictate her actions rather than the rash impulsiveness that he preferred in his dealings with other folks. He had no doubt that, were she here now, that she would tell him that he would be better served helping John than wasting time laying flowers for a woman who wasn't alive to see them.

Foolish or not, he would not deny his heart completely. He had made a promise to himself that he would always come back to New York to visit her whenever he could. John was taking strides in completing his lengthy recovery and would not tolerate this old man's close proximity for ever. There would come a time when he would be required to step back and allow John to find his own feet again. But that time was not now and wouldn't be for the foreseeable future. There was work to be done both here and in Miami, he had to be on hand whenever his friend needed him.

It was important to Kyle that this useless old man hung around for a bit longer, too. There were many times when Kyle's youthful naivety refused to let him understand the way his father acted at times. The boy was much like a younger version of his old man, all emotions and innocence, risking his heart without fully understanding the consequences of doing so.

Kyle would soon be back with his unit, training to become a military police officer in a bid to emulate his father. The young man would worry about John constantly and so it was vital that he himself remained close by to keep an eye on the stubborn idiot.

It might have been the thing that had kept him alive, but John's stubbornness bordered on stupidity at times. The man had a way of being able to see the good in the people around him and yet none in himself. But he had people around him now who were just as determined as he was to make him see that he wasn't the monster he made himself out to be.

The blonde-haired boy standing next to him was a reminder of all of the good that John had accomplished in his life. When the hard-headed fool refused to believe his life had any worth it would only take the mere mention of his son's name to shock a little sense into him.

Not one to put much stock in the supernatural, the thought occurred to him that perhaps Kyle was the guardian angel that John had always been looking for. After everything he'd been through, the man deserved to have something pure and true in his life. Kyle wasn't perfect, none of them were, yet the boy was everything his father needed and a whole lot more besides.

"I thought Dad could do with a little privacy."

Kyle could be emotionally naïve at times, yet he had an astonishing ability to read the body language of those around him and allow his own actions to be dictated accordingly.

"You met your grandparents?"

The young man nodded, a wistful smile on his face. "I guess I spent so long not knowing who I was or where I came from that it's a little hard to get my head around having so much family."

"Family means a lot to your old man. He'd always wanted to be the kind of cop his father was…..he provided for his mother until the day she died."

Kyle's eyes flicked up to him briefly before settling for staring at something unseen in the distance. "He thinks they're ashamed of him….that they view him as some kind of monster."

"They don't," Andy replied quickly and with a quiet force. "Believe me, kid, they don't. It's what he thinks of himself, that's why he can't see what a good man he is."

"Why doesn't he believe us when we tell him then?"

"Because it's not us he needs to hear it from. He needs to tell himself that he's forgiven and he needs to believe that it's true."

"How the hell is that gonna happen?"

"That, kid, I don't know…."