Well, we've come to the end of another adventure. I want to thank all my very loyal readers and reviewers

for taking this journey with me once again. Time for a break - and then, hopefully, I'll be back with another tale.

The red Ford Pinto pulled to the curb directly in front of the De Haro house and the passenger side front door opened. Jeannie turned in the seat, a warm smile lighting her face once again. She sighed loudly. "Sherry, like I said before, I don't know how to thank you, I really don't."

Laughing, Sherry grinned. "And like I said before, you're very welcome. I just want you to promise me you'll think about what I said. You're too young and pretty and smart to let what happened change you… and I think deep down inside, you know that too."

Jeannie pursed her lips and nodded. "Well, you've definitely given me a lot to think about, that's for sure." She smiled again and put her hand on the cop's forearm. "Thank you." She started to get out then stopped and looked back. "And thank you for lunch - and all those lattes," she chuckled, "and thanks for stopping by the Wharf." She nodded towards the back of the small car.

Chuckling gleefully, Sherry reached for the handle and opened the door. "Well, after you told me what happened to those big fish you and Mike caught… and Steve's insinuation that you wouldn't catch anything… how could I refuse?" She got out and circled to the back of the car, unlocking the trunk.

Jeannie, who had joined her, reached into the trunk and picked up the large paper bag by the handle, grunting softly as she pulled it out of the deep trunk. Sherry slammed the lid then looked at the young woman with a soft smile. "I really hope our little talk helped put everything into some kind of perspective. I know after what happened to me, it was nice to talk to a friend who had been through a similar experience; she knew what I was going through."

"It did," Jeannie said with nod and a smile of her own. "It really did." She paused for a moment. "Um, would I be able to… to call you again if I needed someone to talk to?"

"Of course," Sherry almost blurted out, reaching out to briefly grip the younger woman's upper arm. "That's why I gave you my number. Call me anytime. I'd like that, I really would."

Nodding, Jeannie pursed her lips and smiled. "Well, ah, if I'm gonna cook these for dinner, I better get in there." She nodded up at the house.

Sherry glanced up as well. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Is Steve stopping by for dinner?"

Jeannie chuckled and nodded over her shoulder. "He's already here."

Sherry followed the direction of the nod; the familiar tan LTD was parked across the street between two of the neighbours cars. She chuckled softly.

Jeannie, who had watched the young cop's reaction to the unmarked sedan, swallowed a grin as Sherry focused on her again. "Listen, ah, you take care of yourself and that dad of yours. Tell him I wish him a speedy recovery."

"I will, thanks," Jeannie said as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and Sherry circled back to the driver's side door. "And thank you again."

"You're welcome." Sherry opened the door then stopped halfway into the car. She glanced up at the house briefly and grinned. "Ah, will you do me a favor and tell Steve to expect a phone call?" She chuckled evilly as she disappeared into the little car and slammed the door.

Jeannie watched as the Pinto pulled away from the curb and disappeared up the street. She turned and looked up at the house, her smile disappearing as she started to climb the steps, the paper bag suddenly heavy in her hand.

# # # # #

The living room was empty and the house quiet, and she went straight to the kitchen to put the bag on the counter. She took a step towards the living room again then stopped, frowning. She was suddenly unsure if she wanted to confront her father and his partner about what had just taken place. Then, making up her mind, she strode out of the kitchen, across the living room and up the stairs. Without knocking, she opened the bedroom door.

Mike was still lying on the bed, leaning against the headboard, both knees up and his glasses on. He had a folded newspaper against his thigh and a pen in his hand, just like earlier. Steve was sitting in the chair beside the bed, reading his own paper, and there were sections scattered on the floor around them. Empty glasses and mugs were on the floor and the bed table, and what looked like an empty soup bowl and spoon.

Both men looked up quickly, alarmed. "Jeez, Jeannie, we didn't hear you come in. When did you get home?" her father asked warily, staring at her from over the top of his glasses.

"Just now," she smiled noncommittally, knowing they were both dying to ask her what had happened but also knowing they were both too well trained to tip their hand too soon. She let an uncomfortable silence stretch out as she smiled at them expectantly and they stared back. Eventually she nodded at the paper in her father's hand. "Did you find a car?"

"What?" he asked dully, frowning in confusion.

She nodded at the paper again. "A car. Did you find a car?"

"Oh, ah, no… no, not yet." He smiled perfunctorily as he nodded in his partner's direction. "Ah, Steve's been giving me a hand."

The handsome young man, who was looked decidedly nervous, smiled automatically as well, nodding.

She pursed her lips, having a hard time containing her amusement; they looked like deer caught in headlights. She glanced at her wristwatch then looked at Steve. "I'm assuming you're staying for dinner?"

"Ah, yeah," he glanced from daughter to father and back again with a slight shrug, "if that's okay?"

Mike was still looking at his daughter, trying to figure out if the lunch she had just attended had yielded the results he had hoped it would. He couldn't tell.

"Of course it is," Jeannie chuckled. "You guys stay here, and I'll go get it started. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Okay," Mike said quietly and hesitantly as his daughter turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. The men looked at each other blankly. Finally Mike shrugged slightly and they both went back to their respective newspapers.

# # # # #

Jeannie stood at the bottom of the stairs, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. "Dinner's ready!" she bellowed up the stairs, loud enough to wake the dead, then returned to the kitchen with a slightly smug smile, well aware of the power she wielded at the moment and vowing to take full advantage of it.

She heard the master bedroom door open; it was more than a minute later before she heard her father come slowly down the stairs. "Steve's just washing his hands, he'll be right down," he informed her as he walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air. He frowned and cocked his head. "We're not having pot roast leftovers?"

Jeannie was just pulling on the oven mitts. She smiled enigmatically as she opened the oven door. "I decided to give Steve the fish dish we promised him." She reached into the oven and took out a large pyrex casserole dish, putting it on a cold burner on the stovetop.

"You got a salmon?" He sounded very surprised.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and made a face. "No, of course not. They don't have fresh salmon on the Wharf this time of year, you know that." Mike took a step closer to the stove, trying to get a good look at the three large fillets in the glass dish. "Then what is it?"

She looked at him cryptically as she pulled the stack of plates closer and picked up the turner. Behind him, Steve wandered into the kitchen.

"That doesn't smell like pot roast," the younger man said hesitantly, sniffing the air.

Jeannie chuckled. Mike turned towards his partner with raised eyebrows. "It's not. It's fish."

"Fish?"

"Fish," Jeannie confirmed as she placed the fillets on the three plates then began to spoon out the Brussel sprouts and pancetta from the skillet. "Just because Mike and I didn't get to bring our catch back with us, doesn't mean you don't get to eat fish."

"Great," Steve said, looking at his partner with a pleased smile as he took his seat at the table, which was already set.

Mike, standing in the middle of the kitchen, was frowning, still trying to figure out what kind of fish. "We, ah, we caught trout and salmon. This isn't trout or salmon."

Jeannie turned from the stove with two plates and crossed to the table. As she put them down, she looked at her father. "It's black cod."

Steve whistled as he looked down at his plate. "Black cod… that's expensive…"

"Yeah, it is…" Mike said under his breath, his frown getting deeper. He sat as if in a trance, looking at his own plate.

Jeannie returned to the table with her plate, putting it down as she sat. There was already an open bottle of white wine on the table, wine glasses in front of Steve and herself.

"Wow, this looks delicious, Jeannie, thank you," Steve gushed as he picked up the wine bottle and poured some into her glass and then his own.

Mike, still frowning, looked at his daughter then at the water glass in front of him.

"You're on painkillers, you're not supposed to have any alcohol," she said succinctly with curt nod, then picked up her wine glass and looked at Steve. "I really haven't said so yet… but I just want to thank you for what you did for us in Eldred. If you hadn't shown up when you did, I don't know what would've happened." She raised her glass, looking into his eyes.

"Ah, yeah, um, that's for sure," Mike stumbled, picking up his water glass and raising it as in a toast. "We owe you… a lot," he said softly, his bottom lip quivering slightly as the emotion washed over him suddenly and unexpectedly.

Looking embarrassed, Steve picked up his glass and raised it quickly. "You're welcome," he said curtly then took a sip and put the glass down, obviously flustered. "Let's, ah, let's enjoy this amazing dinner. It smells fantastic." He quickly picked up his fork, cut a piece of the perfectly baked cod and put it in his mouth. As Mike and Jeannie watched, he closed his eyes and his head wobbled. He swallowed then grinned. "That, Jeannie, is heaven."

Chuckling warmly, she took a sip of her own wine then, glancing at her father with a loving smile, picked up her fork. "Okay, gentlemen, no talking about what happened in Eldred, and no shop talk. Not tonight."

Pursing his lips, her father nodded. "I agree," he chuckled as he took a sip of his water, winking at his daughter. As he picked up his fork, he asked tentatively, "So… what do we talk about?"

Jeannie looked at him with amused irritation. "Did you guys find a car?"

# # # # #

"Thank you again, Jeannie," Steve said as he stepped out onto the stoop. Mike had already headed up to his bedroom, loosing his battle to stay awake; his injured ribs and the painkillers had done a number on his stamina. "That cod was amazing, it really was."

"Thank you," she chuckled as she held the front door open. "I'm glad it was a hit." She paused suddenly, as if she wanted to say something else, and he waited. "Ah, listen," she said eventually, "thank you for today…"

He froze. It was the first time she had mentioned anything. After a brief pause, he nodded slightly. "You're welcome." When she didn't say anything else, he smiled at her warmly and turned to start slowly down the stairs.

She watched him go. When he was halfway down, she called his name. He stopped and turned, looking up. She grinned. "Just so you know," she said loud enough for him to hear, "I think you should expect a phone call."

He frowned. "What?!"

Smiling wickedly, she closed the door, locking it and turning off the porch light. She crossed back into the kitchen and cleaned a few things up, deciding to leave the rest till morning. She turned off the kitchen overhead and started up the stairs.

She could see the light under the door of the master bedroom and paused then knocked lightly. "Come in," she heard her father's voice and she opened the door. He was lying in bed, in his pajamas, his reading glasses on, a section of the newspaper in his right hand.

He smiled lovingly at her as she slowly crossed towards the bed, putting the paper down and taking off his glasses. She was staring at him with moist eyes, trying not to cry as she approached the bed. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

Though her lips were trembling, she smiled as she shook her head. "Nothing…" she said softly as she slid onto the bed beside him. He raised his right arm and she snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his chest and laying her head against his shoulder. He pulled her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

They sat that way for several long minutes then he felt her stir. She cleared her throat slightly and he knew she wanted to tell him something but wasn't sure how to put it into words. He waited.

Eventually he heard her take a deep breath. "Daddy," she began softly, "um, how are you feeling?"

Mike frowned to himself. "Um, I'm fine, really… why?"

"So you promise to do what the doctors said and stay home for at least a week and then take it easy when you go back to work?"

He pulled away from her slightly and looked down. She kept her own head down, not looking at him.

"Yeah… I told you I would. Why?"

He felt her take another deep breath. "Well, I just want to make sure I can leave you on your own… because I, ah… well, I'm going to go back to school on Monday… if that's okay…?"

Mike froze, his throat constricting. He took a deep, steadying breath and smiled. He tightened his grip around his daughters shoulders and pulled her close again. When he finally found his voice, his whispered, "Sure it's okay…"

He rested his cheek on top of her head again and closed his eyes, exhaling loudly and contentedly. Maybe his Jeannie wasn't completely back yet but he knew she would be, and for that he was extremely grateful.

They had suffered through a horrible ordeal but they had been through it together… and they had survived it… together. And though it had left scars, some visible, most not, they were closer for having endured it, and their bond, which would never break, had only grown stronger.