A large pizza box in one hand, Steve opened the heavy wooden door slowly, trying to be as quiet as he could. He stepped into the room and looked around the door into the nearest cell. The wooden chair was empty and the lump on the cot under the blanket seemed much larger. Smiling softly to himself, he stepped further into the room and let the door close slowly behind him as he moved to the open cell door.
As he got a little closer he saw Mike's head turn in his direction and a soft smile light his face. Steve could see the top of Jeannie's head against his partner's shoulder and he returned the smile, lifting the pizza box so Mike could see it better. With a silent chuckle, the older man rolled his eyes then looked down at his daughter's head, starting to move his right arm.
Steve put the pizza box on the chair then moved the other cot closer as Mike began to lift the blanket off his daughter.
"Sweetheart," he whispered and she moved slightly. "Sweetheart, Steve's brought us a pizza."
She moved a little more and a soft groan could be heard. Mike glanced at his partner with an amused smile then looked at his daughter again. He was relieved that she had fallen asleep, even it was only for a few minutes; he'd had no such luck. He was exhausted, in pain and hungry, but he damn well didn't want Jeannie or Steve to know, at least not at the moment. They still had some things to get through before they could even think of going home, he knew. He had to keep strong for all of them, especially his daughter.
Jeannie's head moved and she looked up at her father. "What…?" she mumbled.
Mike was staring at her lovingly. "Steve brought us a pizza." He nodded over her head and she turned slowly.
Steve had picked up the box and was presenting it like a courtier to a king. "Dinner is served," he chuckled.
Managing to find a smile herself, Jeannie pushed the rest of the blanket away and slowly sat up, being careful not to jostle her father. She moved to the chair as Steve set the box on the second cot then stepped closer to the first to give his partner a hand. He pulled the blanket completely away then reached out to grab Mike's upper right arm and help him sit up. Squeezing his eyes tightly, Mike held his breath until he was upright.
"Are you okay, Daddy?" Jeannie asked worriedly as she stared at her father's contorted face.
Whenever she called him that, his heart broke a little. It meant one of them was in pain, either physically or emotionally; this time he knew it was both of them, in both ways. He managed an encouraging smile. "Oh, yeah… just a little sore. Nothing to worry about." He looked at his partner in anticipation, hoping to change the subject. "I don't suppose there are anchovies on that, by any chance?"
Steve stared at him with amused alarm and chuckled; he knew what the older man was trying to do. "Ah, no, I wouldn't think so… thank god…" he muttered, looking at Jeannie for confirmation; they were both rewarded when she looked at him and made a face.
"Ditto," she said dryly as she got to her feet. She paused for a moment, looking towards the toilet and sink in the corner of the cell then back at Steve. "I need to use the bathroom in the office," she said quietly with a glance back at her father, who nodded, still smiling.
"Do you want me to go with you?" Steve asked, and she turned to him with the condescending scowl that both men knew only too well.
"Ah, no, I think I can do that totally on my own, thank you," she said pointedly as she started across the floor.
The men looked at each other, exchanging a quick grin, both relieved that the feisty Jeannie they knew and loved was still there, just below the surface. They watched her go, then Steve turned anxious eyes on his partner. "How are you doing… honestly?"
Mike looked up at him. "Honestly?" Steve nodded. "Not too good, but not bad enough to go to the hospital right now, if that's what you mean." To stave off further interrogation, he nodded towards the toilet. "I, ah… I have to go too. Can you give me a hand?" He held his right hand out and, with a subdued but angry growl, Steve took it and helped him up. Mike tried not to gasp in pain but was woefully unsuccessful. Steve helped him across the cell then took several discreet steps back.
When Mike was finished washing his hands, he turned back to his young friend and waved off the help. "I'm okay. I just need help to get to my feet, that's all." He started slowly back to the cot, Steve at his side.
"Listen, ah, Fletcher wants to know if he can have a talk with you. I'm sure it's what we both think it is. Anyway, I told him he could probably do it while we ate, and that I wanted to be there… you know, as your lawyer," he finished with a chuckle and Mike looked at him, confused at first then with a smile.
"Boy, I want to be a fly on the wall when Gerry finds out what you've been doing in his name."
"I think he already knows… I just don't know how he feels about it."
"Oh, you'll find out, I'm sure of that," Mike laughed as he reached the cot and turned to sit. Steve took his right elbow and helped him down.
Chuckling, the younger man turned towards the door. "I'll go tell Fletcher he can come in in a few minutes. Oh, ah, they have soft drinks out there. You want a ginger ale?"
"Oh, yes, please," Mike nodded, grinning, watching as Steve left the room. Alone, he let his eyes close and gritted his teeth as he sagged, almost overwhelmed by the pain in his chest, the pain he was trying so desperately not to let anyone see. His daughter needed him now more than ever, and he still had things he wanted Fletcher to know before he could allow himself the luxury of giving in to the demands of his battered body.
He heard the door open and straightened up, trying to act natural as he reached for the pizza box on the chair. He was fumbling to open the lid with his right hand when Jeannie crossed the cell towards him. "I'll get that, daddy," she said quickly when she saw what he was trying to do.
She took the napkins off the top of the box and put them on the cot then opened the box. The smell of hot pizza, that had already permeated the room, got even stronger and she actually smiled, which made his heart soar. "That smells good," she said with a deep inhale.
"It's not bad, actually," her father admitted. "Steve and I had one the other day…" He stopped and frowned. "Dear god, I think it was yesterday. It feels like it was a week ago…" He snorted in surprise, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
The outer door opened again and Steve strode in. He had two Cokes and a ginger ale in his hands. He smiled at Jeannie as he got closer then looked at his partner. "Fletcher will be in in a few minutes." He turned his attention to Jeannie. "He wants to talk to Mike about a couple of things. I don't think it's anything you have to worry about, just, ah, police housekeeping."
Frowning, Jeannie looked at her father, who tilted his head. "He's right. You don't have to go anywhere, it's nothing secret."
"Okay," she said softly, reaching for a piece of pizza. When she lifted it, ripping off the cheese strings, Steve picked up the box and held it closer to Mike.
# # # # #
"So how was the pizza?" Fletcher asked with a chuckle as he crossed the cell.
All three nodded. "It's really good," Jeannie answered, sounding surprised.
"I know," Fletcher confirmed, his chuckle turning into a deep laugh. "Who'd thought a small berg like this would have such great pizza?" He looked at Mike. "How are you feeling?"
The older man smiled. "Better than I thought I'd feel. The pizza helped."
"Good," Fletcher said, sitting on the cot Steve had pulled closer. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Mike, there's a couple of things I want to talk to you about… vis-a-vis the Johnny Seddon murder." He looked at Jeannie. "Ah…?"
Mike's eyes snapped to his daughter and back. "What happened to me happened to her as well. Maybe even more. She has just as much right to be in on these decisions as I do, don't you think?"
Fletcher pursed his lips and nodded. "Of course. Just so you know, the San Bernardino ADA got here about an hour ago, and Collins and I have discussed everything with him. Connie Seddon has been arrested for murder and attempted murder, for starters. But we're, ah, we're still discussing the Johnny Seddon murder and, of course, the assault on you by Jake Chisholm."
Jeannie's eyes snapped to her father; so much had happened since she heard about that incident, mere seconds before Connie Seddon had opened fire on them, that it had slipped her mind. Mike glanced at her, frowning, his look telling her that they would discuss it later, and she bit her lip, lowering her head slightly in acquiescence.
"Yeah, I thought you might," Mike smiled slightly, nodding. "And I've been thinking about that a lot too, both situations."
"Okay, good," Fletcher said slowly, nodding and leaning forward even more. "So, what have you been thinking."
Mike looked at him evenly, then pursed his lips and nodded. "I'd like to start with Mr. Chisholm, if that's okay…?"
Fletcher nodded. "Sure, of course."
Mike nodded his thanks then took a moment to choose his words. "In a lot of ways, I can understand where he was coming from, as the kids say…" He smiled briefly. "He's the family patriarch, and that carries a lot of weight, especially to people of his generation. And he just had his grandson taken from him, in a very shocking and tragic way. Now, whether or not he knew about what his grandson had turned into… well, none of us knows that at the moment, but if what he said when he charged in here after me, that his daughter told him I killed Johnny… well, maybe his daughter was keeping things from him… for the good of the family." He looked at Fletcher with raised eyebrows. "That's not unheard of, is it?" The question was rhetorical but the captain nodded anyway.
Mike sighed sadly, studiously avoiding the concerned stares of the two younger people. "Other than putting a bullet in the ceiling and roughing me up a bit, I really don't think he was going to do what he threatened to do, I really don't. He was a man in a great deal of pain, lashing out at the person he was told had caused that pain. And in a way, it was not unlike what I was doing to his grandson before Colin Anderson put a bullet in my shoulder."
From the corner of his eye he could see his daughter stiffen, his partner close his eyes. He lowered his head and sighed softly.
The springs in the cot squeaked as Fletcher shifted slightly. "We'll do…" he began slowly and quietly, "whatever you think needs to be done."
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Mike raised his head. "This man has just lost his grandson… and his daughter. His life is in ruins and his family is shattered. The pain can't get much deeper than that. And I don't want to add to it." He stared into Fletcher's dark eyes. "So I would appreciate it very much if no charges were filed against Mr. Chisholm."