A/N - The first half of this chapter takes place in the episode 4.19 Secret Arrangements - After Frank & Danny's fight but before the dinner scene.

The second half takes place in 4.20 Custody Battle - After Sunday dinner but before Danny and Jamie's scene at the bar.


The crisp morning air filled Abbey's lungs and she checked her pace as she passed the distance marker along the Brooklyn Bridge Park promenade.

"Fish! Fish!" Michael shouted from the seat of the jogging stroller, his hands pointing in the direction of the pier.

She smiled and slowed, heading to the far end of the roller rink where she could usually count on a few early morning fisherman willing to indulge her wide eyed toddler.

Turning the corner there was only a single fisherman casting into the river. It took her a few steps, but even in a time-worn field jacket and ball cap she was certain she'd recognize him nearly anywhere.

She approached with a smile, "Aren't you a little far from Bay Ridge, Sir?"

He turned, one eyebrow arching over his sunglasses, "Aren't you a little far from Queens, Detective?"

"Queens?" She tilted her head, "Sir, I haven't lived in Queens since before Brian and I got married."

His smirk fell away, "Oh."

She smiled, "Our apartment is on the edge of Vinegar Hill and Dumbo." She gestured vaguely behind her.

"Dumbo." He muttered, checking his line, "Can't believe that actually caught on; silliest name for a neighborhood." He thumbed over his shoulder, "Jamie's apartment is a few blocks from here; said the stripers were running pretty deep this week." He shrugged, "Figured the few extra miles were worth the extra luck."

"Oh, is he going to be joining you?" She twisted to look down the pier.

He shook his head, "On my own this morning." He looked down to Michael, "Clearing my head a little before church and family dinner."

"Fish!" Michael shouted.

The Commissioner looked down and smiled as she rolled her eyes, "How do you say it nicely?"

Michael pouted in clear exasperation and blinked his blue eyes at her, "Mumma - Fish, peeeze."

"I always knew I liked your kid." Her boss grinned, "Already showing signs of the right priorities."

She sighed, "Visiting with the folks who fish here has gotten to be a bit of a habit since the weather started getting nicer." She looked to the cooler at his feet, "Any chance you've caught something he can poke?"

"Poke..." He smirked, "Sounds like my boys at his age." He shook his head, "Unfortunately the only thing in there is some bait. I haven't been catching to keep."

He hesitated, looking at Michael, "But, if he'd like and you're not in a rush, he can hold the rod, do some fishing himself…"

"Sir?"

"Fish PEASE, PEASE." Michael bounced his legs.

"Bring him over here." The Commissioner gestured with his head.

Intrigued, Abbey undid the stroller straps and Michael launched out of his seat.

"Do you want to fish, young man?" The PC smirked as Michael's eyes went wide.

"PEASE!"

Abbey winced as he threaded the rod through the low rungs of the railing and gestured for Michael to grab hold.

"Sir, I don't know how expensive that rod is but I should remind you that he's not even quite two yet." She shook her head, "I would advise against trusting him with it."

He shrugged and looked to Michael, "Can you hold this real tight?"

Michael nodded and the Commissioner straightened, discretely holding the rod steady with a grip on the part that extended through the rail.

He smiled confidently, "I've taught 4 kids and 3 grandkids how to fish, each starting right about his age." He looked down at Michael who was concentrating hard at holding on to the rod. "Only lost a rod and reel once."

Abbey smiled, "Who dropped it?"

"Who do you think?" He grimaced, in her direction. "Danny never had the patience for fishing." He pushed at the bridge of his sunglasses, "Or much else."

He grimaced and checked his watch, "You two are out and about awfully early for a Sunday."

"Michael's an early riser. Weekends I get the early tour." She rolled her shoulders, the sea breeze starting to chill her heated skin, "Trying to let Brian sleep in."

He nodded, and glanced down, "Hey there, Mikey, let's roll it in a little, okay?"

He gripped the rod and moved Michael's hand to the reel and covered it with his own, ratcheting in the line a few clicks and giving it a quick tug.

Michael beamed at his mother, "I fish Mumma."

She bit her lip, "Yes you are."

"Alright, that's good, right there." The Commissioner reset their hold and smiled down at Michael before looking back at Abbey, "Don't let all the talk of the terrible twos scare you; this is one of the best ages."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yep." He looked over the water, "They're like little sponges. And even if he learns to start talking back, at the end of the day you and Brian will still be his biggest heroes." He frowned, "In the eyes of a two year old, Mom and Dad can do no wrong."

Abbey shifted, having a clearer sense as to why he was compelled to 'clear his head' this morning, "Have you heard anything else from the DA's office?"

The Commissioner glanced at her sideways, "No."

"We going to do anything about it?" She crossed her arms, rubbing away her goosebumps.

"Nothing we can do." He sighed.

"I saw the files from Sergeant Gormley." She tried prompting.

"Yeah, that was a mistake." He exhaled, checking the line.

She frowned, "You found something?"

"Nope." He pursed his lips, "But Danny found out I asked for them."

"Oh." She winced. "So he thought you were checking up on him?"

The Commissioner set his jaw and huffed through his nose, "The files confirmed what I thought; that my son is an expert of negotiating the grey areas." He frowned, "He's always been one to test the rules, find the boundary, step on the line…from when he was this tall." He gestured to Michael.

"And I know I disappoint him that I don't play those games." His lips rolled in, disappearing under his mustache. "But I just can't anymore."

"I can hardly imagine you disappoint him." Abbey defended automatically, surprised at the defeated stoop in his shoulders.

"He is." The PC nodded, "He's always adored his grandfather; as do I; Pop was an excellent cop…" He sighed, "But it was a different age and the things Pop and his buddies talk about just don't work anymore, they can't."

She could see him scanning the water from behind his sunglasses.

"My old man romanticizes the old way of doing things and Danny eats it up, tries to follow in his footsteps; has since he was three when Pop gave him his leather slapper."

He shook his head, "Neither of them seem to understand why I don't condone any of it; but I can't and I won't. I won't let this department slide back into being what the protestors and media paint us as." He gestured definitively, "Cops can't get physical with suspects, promotions cannot just go to the guys with hooks and I can't talk about ongoing investigations."

Abbey blinked, "You didn't tell Detective Reagan you're not the one prompting the investigation?"

"No." He pouted, leaning on the rail.

She shifted, "Sir, I understand not being able to talk about the investigation itself but would it really be so bad to just say where it was coming from?"

"Shouldn't have to!" He shot back, frustration creeping into his tone. His chest rose with a deep breath, "I have never given my kids any reason not to trust me. If my word isn't good enough for him then whatever assumptions he makes are all on him."

She looked down, not feeling comfortable giving voice to her disagreement.

"Hey!" The Commissioner called out, pulling her attention the same time Michael shouted and let go of the rod as it began to shake and pull.

The PC's grip saved the rig from a watery demise and he readjusted it back over the top rail and situated himself behind Michael, bending over and encouraging her son to 'help' reel in whatever was pulling the line.

Shortly a flapping silver fish was appearing from the water.

"Come on Mikey, we almost have it." The PC grinned as Michael clapped eagerly, covering his mouth with his fingers and looking up to Abbey in amazement.

She nodded, "Good job buddy. You caught a fish."

"My fish!" He shouted, pointing as the Commissioner brought the end of the rod over the rail and lay the small fish on the cement.

Michael reached out to touch it but jumped back as it thrashed.

The Commissioner pulled a rag from his pocket and used it to hold the fish still.

"Congratulations Mike, you caught a herring." He explained as he removed the hook.

Michael looked on with a serious expression. " 'Ring." He repeated.

"Yeah." The PC nodded with a smirk, holding the fish.

Michael frowned, " 'Ring bleed!" He backed up and reached for Abbey's hand, "Fish ouchie hurt Mumma."

She smiled and knelt, "No baby, it's okay. Just a little cut."

"Yeah, he's fine, see his tail flapping?" Frank held out the fish, "You want to touch him?"

Michael took a tentative step forward, extending a hand to lightly poke at the top of the fish's head. He grinned and looked between the two adults. Then, before Abbey could stop him, Michael leaned in and kissed the fish. "Feel bedda, 'Ring."

"Ugh…" Abbey groaned even as the Commissioner chuckled.

"I bet he feels a lot better now." He praised, "You ready to let him go?"

Michael's eyes grew wide, "Go?"

"Yeah." The PC nodded, "Back swimming with his friends."

"Fish go home wid me?" Michael frowned and looked to Abbey.

She shook her head and rubbed his hair, "We don't have anything to keep him in and he'd be lonely. He needs to go back to his Mumma and Daddy."

Her son considered her with amusing solemnity until he turned and nodded his approval, " 'Ring needs Mumma."

"Good choice." The PC approved with a grin, "Ready?"

Michael nodded, and the Commissioner gestured for him to join him as he released the fish back into the river.

"Bye 'Ring! Bye!" Michael looked through the rail and waived.

"Good job." The PC nodded, "First catch. Now you're a real fisherman."

Michael looked up, awe on his face. He looked to Abbey, "I fishman, Mumma."

Abbey picked him up and kissed his cheek, "Yes you are baby." She mock glared at the PC, "What have you started with my son?"

A broad grin deepened his dimples and wrinkled his eyes, "The kid already had the instinct." He tilted his head to make eye contact with Michael, "Your boy's a natural."

Abbey kissed the side of Michael's head to hide the irrepressible smile the Commissioner's rare grin prompted in her.

Too soon it faltered and fell, replaced with a wistful expression, "Such a great age." He reaffirmed. "Mike actually really reminds me of Jamie when he was little."

"Yeah?" Abbey raised an eyebrow, putting Michael back down.

"The focus and compassion…" He smirked, "But he would never touch a fish at that age, nevermind kiss it."

"Uck." She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I'll be scrubbing his face pretty raw when we get home."

"Consider yourself lucky." He shook his head, "The first time I told Danny he couldn't keep a fish he tried to hide it in his shirt. Slime and fish stink everywhere. His mother made me throw out his outfit."

"I wan fish more." Michael tugged on the Commissioner's jeans and gestured to the rod.

The PC grinned but Abbey sighed, "I think once is enough for today." She held out her hand, "How about you say thank you to Commissioner Reagan?"

Michael gave an exaggerated pout but looked up, " 'ank you fishing Ishner Aigan."

"Your very welcome." He nodded, "You can fish with me anytime."

Michael grinned and looked to Abbey as if to be certain she heard it. She sighed, "It seems we'll be picking up one of those kiddie rods sooner than later."

"My job here is done." The Commissioner gloated, watching as she strapped Michael back into the stroller.

"Look at that thing," He commented, "I used to cut leg holes in a regular backpack to carry my kids around because the strollers were too flimsy. You could take that thing to the frontlines."

She shrugged, "It is pretty great. Not to mention pushing him doubles the workout; half the distance."

"Yeah, well I think I'll stick to fishing for my early morning exercise." He grinned, picking his rod back up.

"Yes, Sir." She indulged.

He smiled and pulled a small tupperware of bait out of the cooler, resetting the hook.

She hesitated, "Sir, about Detective Reagan…"

He paused his movements and looked back to her.

She swallowed, "I could find a way for him to become aware of the source of the investigation."

"You'll do no such thing." He retorted immediately before sighing, "But thank you for offering."

She looked back, steadfast, "I'd like to help if I can."

"Have a good Sunday, Detective." He dismissed with a sigh and a nod in Michael's direction, "Take as much advantage of these times as you can."

"Yes, Sir." She accepted, "Enjoy your Sunday."

She turned the stroller back in the direction of home as the Commissioner cast his line back into the water.


"Is that Dino over there?" Garrett elbowed Abbey and gestured to the corner of the room where a balding man could be seen blatantly flirting with a table of young women.

Abbey nodded, sipping her beer, "He and Laura divorced 18 months ago."

"Rebounding." Garrett smirked, turning back to the bar, "Good for him."

"Yeah." Abbey shrugged non-committedly.

Garrett tilted his head, "What's with that?"

She shrugged, "Nothing. Just…" She sighed, "I kind of miss Chief Hines."

Garrett glanced back over his shoulder, "What's wrong with Arbogast?"

She glared at him for a beat, checking to make sure they couldn't be heard, "Nothing really. Just…" She winced, "His style I guess? He's high strung. Everything he brings to the PC is at level 10. Hines just churned through things; got it done orderly and quietly with no fuss."

"Well at least they both have a better sense of humor than Bell did." Garrett offered.

Abbey sipped her beer in place of replying. She was not a fan of Chief Bell but didn't feel compelled to explain it to Garrett.

Garrett looked down, "So…things still tense when you left this evening?"

"You could say that." She nodded. "He was doing that thing where he just sits in there, not really working?"

"Sulking." Garrett offered, "What he does is sulk."

"That sounds petulant." She defended.

"But it's true." He rebutted, "Again I am forced to remind you that the Reagan pedestal you've erected in your mind is not reflective of reality."

"I hate it when you do that." She muttered.

"Offer perspective?" Garret guessed.

"Make it sound like I have none of my own." She shot back. "Like I'm not aware the man has flaws. "

"Sometimes…" Garrett tipped his beer.

"It's called loyalty and choosing to focus on the good instead of constantly characterizing someone by their shortcomings." She rebuked.

Garrett shook his head, "Hey, I feel loyalty too, you know I do. I'd even go so far as to call Frank a friend. But sometimes he needs a little reminding of reality." He smirked, "Though I suppose I would need to keep up your way of looking at things if I had to fill your shoes."

Abbey crossed her legs, "I'm wearing 3 inch pumps today, I'd very much like to see you in my shoes."

Garrett rolled his eyes.

"Hey." A familiar voice interrupted, "Where's the Commish?"

Abbey turned to see Danny Reagan approaching from the front of the bar.

She looked to Garrett who looked back to her with a raised eyebrow before he shook his head at Danny, "Back at the office last we knew. It's just Baker and I shooting the breeze here tonight."

Danny frowned and looked at his watch.

Abbey straightened, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nah. Nothing." Danny waived her off, "I had asked if he wanted to meet up tonight and he said he'd be here."

"Well we weren't expecting him but you're welcome to have a seat with us while you wait?" Garrett offered.

Danny glanced around the room one last time before nodding, "Yeah, sure. Why not?" He settled onto the stool around the corner of the bar next to Abbey and grabbed the bartender's attention.

Garrett looked him over, "So, you called your old man?"

"Yeah." Danny shrugged, "I know he usually blows of some steam with Erin when things get messy but he can't exactly do that with this Collins / Cutter thing." He smirked, accepting his beer, "I'm playing back up."

Abbey smiled as Danny tried to portray an air of nonchalance but she knew the rarity with which the PC and his eldest shared an evening together and considering the tensions of the previous week she was pleased to see the development.

Danny narrowed his eyes at her, "What?"

"Nothing." She shook off.

He smirked, "Yeah right, 'nothing'. What is it?"

She shrugged, redirecting, "The DA's investigation over?"

Danny looked back, his beer stilled midway to his mouth and the corner of his lip turned in an understanding smirk.

"Don't really know, don't really care." He nodded and sipped his drink, "I trust the folks at 1PP to back us lowly squad detectives."

Abbey smiled and took a long drink from her own bottle. She had hoped the Commissioner had come to an understanding with his son prior to the events that now seemed to be causing a rare rift between him and Erin.

She sat back, quietly listening as Danny and Garrett began debating the NBA playoffs and the Knicks' dismal season.

It wasn't long before she heard the familiar heavy footsteps before she saw the Commissioner approaching. He hesitated a beat, eyes taking in Abbey and Garrett next to his son.

Danny noted the hesitation as well and leaned back with a shrug and a grin, "You were late; I had to find other people to drink with."

The PC rolled his eyes and claimed the empty seat on Danny's right, "You get more and more like your grandfather every day."

Danny shrugged, "Nah, he'd have my hide too; I was also late; came in just a couple minutes ago."

His father gave an amused huff while loosening his tie and gesturing to the bartender, "So what were you two talking about with such animation?"

"Certainly not Erin or Officer Cutter." Danny smirked.

Frank glared at him before looking away, picking up his beer. "Your sister really believes she's right, y'know." He muttered, "She's not backing down, certain that something nefarious went on."

"Doesn't the M.E.'s report make that pretty much a non-issue? It's the context we're talking about here." Danny shrugged, "And for that we gotta take Cutter's word on it."

"Unless your sister's right, he's covering and his partner saw it." Frank gestured, leaning his elbows on the bar.

Danny gestured with his beer bottle, "But she says she didn't and even if she did, no cop is going to rat on her partner."

"Can we just...not?" Frank grimaced, his hands flexing around his glass.

Danny frowned and looked down for a beat, "You talk to her?"

The PC shook his head, not looking up, "Not since she left the house last night."

Danny's eyebrows fluctuated and his jaw tightened as he looked at his dad.

"What?" Frank leaned back.

"Nothing." Danny shrugged, "It's just kind of interesting being on this side of it; usually I'm the one you're fighting with."

Frank's face contorted, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Danny gestured, beer bottle still in hand, "I just mean, that of the four of us, I'm the one whose spent the most time in your dog house. This is a new perspective for me is all."

"That's not true." Frank shook his head.

"Sure is." Danny nodded, "When's the last time you were fighting with Erin?"

"Try every other Sunday." Frank shot back.

Danny rolled his eyes, "Doesn't count. I mean like fight, fight; actually get on one another's nerves."

Frank frowned in thought before he tapped the bar and pointed, "When she was dating that guy."

"That guy, Dad? Really?" Danny shook his head, "You mean anytime she's dating any guy. And that's not fighting, that's fatherly concern."

"It's all concern." Frank muttered, leaning forward on the bar again.

"Yeah?" Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Of course!" Frank sighed, "You think when we fight I'm coming from anywhere but concern for you?"

"I dunno," He shrugged, "Sometimes I really screw up."

"Yeah. You do." Frank nodded, "And when you do I worry about what that means for your career and your family and why you're screwing up and what I could have done along the history of your life to prevent it."

"Really?"

"Yes." He emphasized, "I told you...I would never come down against you on anything. You just don't make it easy sometimes. And as your father, I assume a certain level of responsibility for that."

Danny leaned back, shaking his head, "I'm a grown man. My choices are my own, Dad. You're not responsible for what I do."

Frank shrugged, "So when do you see yourself not feeling responsible for Jack?"

Danny's mouth slacked opened, wordless.

Frank smirked and tipped his glass in a gesture of victory.

Conceding, Danny leaned forward on his forearms, mirroring his father's position."You ever fight with Joe or Jamie like this?" He asked with feigned disinterest,

"Differently." Frank nodded slowly. He looked down, "The last big one I had with Joe was when he wanted to join the warrant squad."

"Yeah, me too." Danny nodded.

"He told me." Frank smirked, "He accused me of sic'ing you on him." He took in a deep breath through his nose, "I've had my moments with all of you through the years. Erin a little less since the divorce...and since she stopped trying to put me in between her and Nicky's disputes."

He frowned, "Jamie, maybe a little less so." He looked over, prepared for the inevitable eyeroll from Danny.

"Really? No blow ups with golden boy? I'm shocked."

Frank shook his head, "It's not what you think, we've had our moments…"

"But what?" Danny pressed.

Frank shrugged, "Your brother just backs down faster than the rest of you." He took a sip, "I don't know why. Maybe it's because I wasn't around as much when he was little or because of the positions I've held since he was a teen but usually all I get from him is a hint of an attitude, a little testiness and then he clams up."

"Maybe he's actually learned something from me." Danny grinned into his drink, "Keeping quiet is the safe route to self preservation."

Frank didn't react and Danny frowned. "What?"

He shrugged, "Maybe that's it but I can't seem to shake the feeling that at some level it's just that he's not comfortable fighting with me."

"Well it's not comfortable for any of us." Danny dismissed.

"That's maybe not the right word." Frank sighed, "It takes a certain level of confidence and trust to go in on a family member and I don't know, it's like Jamie just doesn't have that with me...or he doesn't want to test it."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, "I think it might be changing though. He's grown a lot these past few years; your mother and Joe were the biggest influences in his life and I think he's been slowly working out who he is for himself, really coming into his own." He smirked, "Someday that patience of his is going to run out and I'll catch it for sure."

Danny grinned, "I've had the bruises to prove that he's got a healthy dose of the Reagan temper."

"I don't really need to hear that." Frank shook his head.

Danny grinned and drank more of his beer.

Frank lifted his chin, "Speaking of kids, how're my grandsons doing?"

Danny winced, "Jack's still struggling in math and science. We got the midterm report and it doesn't look like much has gotten better since last semester."

"Math has always been a sticking point for this family." Frank shrugged, "Even the ivy-leaguers."

"Yeah." Danny frowned, "Just kind of hoped that was one of the Reagan genes he wouldn't get."

Frank nodded, "What about Linda? She's got a knack for numbers and I mean, nurse, science...she must have some strength there too, right?"

"She does." Danny agreed, "She helps when he lets her but there's only so much she can do and she's already carrying so much just running the family; it doesn't seem fair to put the boy's grades on her too."

"It's worth saying again, wives of cops have the toughest role." The PC affirmed. Glancing over he made eye contact with Abbey, "I suppose I should say spouses of cops."

She grinned in return, "I won't argue with you." Her smile wavered, "And I'm certain Brian wouldn't either."

"How about spouses of people who aren't actually cops but work for the department?" Garrett interjected.

Frank shook his head, "You cause your own problems Garrett, don't be blaming the department."

Abbey snickered and looked down. "Traitor." Garrett grumbled at her.

"Hey, I'm buying your drink." She defended.

"Yeah, because you're still crawling out of your babysitting debt with me." He retorted.

Danny's brow knit, "I have a feeling I don't really want to know what that's about."

"You really don't." Garrett confirmed. "But all jokes aside," He leaned forward, "I understand what your going through with Jack. We've been having some issues with Sam and I try to help how I can but most of the time it's fallen on Cynthia to do the heavy lifting."

"It's hard." Frank agreed. "You try to do best by your family but sometimes that means not being there for them in the way you'd most like."

"So it's important to take advantage of the times you can?" Abbey echoed in his direction.

He paused; meeting her eyes, "Exactly." He lifted his glass and took a drink.

"So what's that mean when you're fighting with your kid?" Danny raised an eyebrow at his father.

Frank looked back at him, sighed, scratched at the side of his face and looked away, "Find a way to fix it, I guess."