Fletcher stared at the San Francisco homicide lieutenant for a long silent beat then straightened up, shaking his head slightly. He exhaled loudly and a mirthless smile played quickly over his lips. "Well, you have a greater capacity for forgiveness than I do, Mike, I'll tell you that. If he did to me what I heard he did to you, I'd want his ass in a sling, that's for sure."

The older man just stared at him, his face expressionless.

After a long beat, Fletcher looked at the man on the cot beside him. "You were there, Steve. What do you think should happen with Mr. Chisholm?"

As if he knew he was going to be put on the spot, Steve's eyes slowly turned to his partner, his own face not betraying what was undoubtedly racing through his mind. He stared at the man he loved and respected so much for a couple of very long seconds, knowing both Fletcher and Jeannie were watching him closely. Mike, who seemed very sanguine about what he had just requested, continued to look at Fletcher.

Steve briefly closed his eyes, his heart starting to pound. "Mike and I are usually on the same page about most things… but I have to disagree with him on this one." He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes suddenly very sad. "I saw what Chisholm did… and I know he was hurting… and angry…. and I know he was filled with rage and grief… but god damn it, Michael, he almost killed you…" He paused, trying to get a grip on this sudden swell of anger, and watched his partner close his eyes.

Steve dropped his head and exhaled sharply. "Look, I know you don't want to add to the man's grief, I understand that… but, my god, somebody's got to take some responsibility here for what's happened… to you, to Jeannie."

At the mention of his daughter's name, Mike opened his eyes and they snapped in his partner's direction, dark and angry. A tense silence suddenly hung over them. It was Mike who uncharacteristically backed down first, tilting his head back slightly and allowing his eyes to drift toward the ceiling as a soft sigh escaped his lips.

Steve watched him, swallowing heavily, knowing he had hit a nerve. Part of him was glad that he finally got through to his stubborn partner but another part of him was angry at himself for questioning Mike's decision, as misguided as he thought it was. At a loss for what else to do, he reached out, laid his hand on Mike's forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Still not meeting his partner's stare, Mike laid his hand over Steve's then looked at Fletcher. He shrugged slightly and a very tiny mirthless smile fleetingly curled his lips. "I've said what I wanted to say, Captain. So now you know how I feel. And I understand how Steve feels as well. Believe me, I do." He snorted softly. "This is your jurisdiction, Captain, not ours. The decision to press charges or not is entirely up to you and the district attorney. And I will abide by what you decide." He paused for a beat, his intense blue eyes boring into the state police officer. "But you know how I feel."

After another tense pause, Fletcher shifted slightly on the cot and nodded. "Yes, I do. And I thank you for that."

Mike turned to his partner and they shared a look for a long second. Then, with a very slight smile, Steve nodded, squeezed his partner's arm once more then removed his hand and sat back.

Fletcher looked from one detective to the other, his gaze finally settling on the older one, and he snorted softly. "Well, ah, that's, ah, that's one subject dealt with… sort of," he said lightly, shaking his head softly. He raised his eyebrows at Mike. "So, ah, the other elephant in the room in Colin Anderson."

The older man tilted his head slightly. His eyes narrowed as he studied Fletcher so intensely that that it made Steve frown in curiosity. Eventually a tiny grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I want to know what you think first," Mike said flatly and quietly.

Fletcher, knowing he was being played by a master, sat back slightly, unable to stop the respectful smile that tugged at his own lips. He exhaled loudly with a very soft chuckle. "Okay…" he began slowly. "Well, from what both you and Jeannie," he glanced at the young woman in the chair, "told us, and from what Anderson said himself - which I believe, by the way - well, I would like to petition the D.A. to charge him with justifiable homicide."

Both Mike and Steve stared at the captain silently. Jeannie's eyes were snapping back and forth between her father and Fletcher. "What does that mean?" she finally asked, not really caring who answered her question.

It was Fletcher who turned to her. "That means he won't go to prison for killing Johnny Seddon."

"At all?"

"At all."

She looked at her father, her brow furrowing. He glanced at her, knowing in an instant exactly what she was thinking. He turned his attention back to Fletcher. "I agree. He did the world a favor, there's no doubt about that. But he also stood by silently while Seddon attacked those other girls… while he attacked Jeannie…" He let the rest of the statement hang, knowing that to give it voice would only allow the fury he had been tamping down to raise its ugly head once again.

Fletcher was shaking his head vigorously and he leaned forward to lay his hand on Mike's knee, one father to another. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let him off scot-free on that, believe me. That's why I'm considering asking the D.A. to charge him with Gross Negligent Discharge of a Firearm."

After a short beat, both San Francisco detectives nodded. Jeannie, her eyes flashing from one cop to the other, finally settled on her father. "What does that mean?"

It was Steve who responded a little faster than his partner. "That means he could spend up to three yeas in prison, or it could be filed as a misdemeanor and he wouldn't serve any time at all."

"No time at all?" Jeannie echoed angrily, staring at her father, who was watching Fletcher.

The captain, who was meeting Mike's stare evenly, nodding softly. "That's true, but I'm leaning towards recommending a year, in a minimum security facility. That way he pays for what he did, but it doesn't ruin his life." He paused, continuing to meet Mike's unreadable expression and, in effect, lobbing the ball back into the lieutenant's court.

Mike could feel all three pairs of eyes on him, three held breaths. Eventually he nodded so slightly they almost missed it, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I don't have a problem with that." He looked at his daughter. "How about you? You have a say in this too, of course."

Jeannie sat back sharply, frowning. She was not prepared to have a voice in the decision and suddenly the weight of what they were talking about hit home. She stared at her father but he just looked back at her without expression or comment. Nervously, she looked down at her hands in her lap and took a long beat. When she looked up, she was facing Fletcher. "I think I can live with that, if my father can."

Mike's face lit up with a proud smile and she reached over to take his hand, biting her bottom lip. On the other side of Fletcher, Steve was nodding in agreement.

Shaking his head slightly, Fletcher looked from father to daughter. "I'd say something about apples and trees but I'd hate to state the obvious." They all chuckled softly. "Listen, uh, thank you - both of you - for this. I think it's the right thing to do under the circumstances." He looked at Mike. "The jury's still out, so to speak, on what the D.A. will do about Chisholm, but I will pass along your request." He shot furtive glances at Steve and Jeannie, who once again were showing their displeasure in their expressions. "And I'll be in touch about that. And, just so you know, the coroner got here about an hour ago and Hogan's body has been removed." There was a respectful moment of silence. "But right now," he said brightly, slapping his thighs as he changed the mood in the room, "we've got to see about getting you all to the motel for the night, then making sure you an all hit the road for home first thing in the morning. Anything else we need to do about this case we can do over the phone." He started to get to his feet.

"Ah, about that…" Mike began and Fletcher stopped halfway up, sitting down again. "Ah, I really don't feel up to going anywhere right now." He patted the cot he was sitting on. "And I've gotten kinda used to sleeping to sleeping on this damn thing… so if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay right here."

Fletcher started slightly, making a face, then snorted a short chuckle. "Ah, sure, yeah, I don't think that's a problem."

"Then I'm staying here too," Jeannie said quickly, looking from Fletcher to her father and nodding once, almost defiantly. "I'll sleep on that." She pointed at the cot the captain and Steve were sitting on.

His eyebrows raised, Fletcher turned to Steve, who smiled and shrugged. "I, ah, I can sleep in the other cell," he said lightly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder.

Frowning slightly, the captain looked from one pleasantly smiling face to the other. "Okay… ah, I'll let the motel know. But, your two sergeants…?"

"Oh, they can still go to the motel, if that's okay?" Mike answered, still smiling.

Fletcher nodded, chuckling. "Yeah… yeah, that's fine." He got up. "I'll go tell them." He looked at all three again. "So, you guys need anything else tonight before we pack up and get out of here for a few hours?"

All three shook their heads. Steve looked at his partner. "No, I think we're okay." He looked at Fletcher pointedly and the captain nodded; he knew Steve was in charge now.

"Okay, well, you guys try to get a good nights sleep and I'll see you in the morning." He started towards the door then turned back. "Mike, you take care of yourself and if you need Collins or me for anything during the night, we're staying at the motel too." He looked at Steve. "Okay?" There was another round of nods.

After the captain left, Steve turned to his partner. Mike was sitting with his eyes closed. He touched his arm and the older man's eyes opened. "Are you okay?"

Mike's smile was more automatic than genuine and both younger people frowned in worry. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just really tired… it's been a hell of a day, hasn't it?" He turned his weary eyes on his daughter but she wasn't fooled.

She got to her feet quickly. "Here… lie down," she ordered, putting her hands on his shoulders and almost pushing him down onto the pillows. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, he let her do it, and she shot a very worried glance at Steve who helped lift Mike's legs onto the cot. She sat beside him, one hand lightly on his chest as he lay with his eyes closed, trying not to grimace as he attempted to take deep breaths. "Daddy, are you sure you're okay?"

Keeping his eyes closed, he smiled. "If I say yes, you're not going to believe me anyway, are you?"

Her worried frown got even deeper. "No."

He chuckled softly. "Let's just get through the night and go home tomorrow, okay?"

With a glance over her shoulder at an equally worried Steve, she patted her father's chest tenderly. "Okay…" she whispered, already knowing nobody was going to get a good nights' sleep.