Virginia...Five Years Later~
The sun was shining brightly on the main street of Hogan's Alley, the FBI's city mock up at Quantico. Rookie and veteran agents either lived or died on those hallow streets. Today they were bringing down and a bank robber during rush hour. A young recruit ready for action looked around the crowd for anyone who fit the profile. Baggy clothes shifty eyes. Picking his way through the crowd, he watched every face. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw someone break away. He pursued on foot radioing his direction to his team. Dodging through he crowds he came face to face with the suspect in an alley behind a Chinese take out.
"Freeze"
His voice almost cracked with the adrenaline running through his system.
"FBI! Put you hands up!"
The suspect reached inside his jacket. The recruit fired his weapon. The suspect went down his coat opened, revealing the twenty-two strapped to his side. For a moment everything stopped.
"Ah shit. Not again. I hate it when they run two sims at the same local."
The young agent turned around to see one of his instructors walking down the alley. The instructor put out his hand to take the young man's weapon.
"Congratulations slick, you just took down this week's 'Iceman"..."
"Who?" the recruit squeaked still frozen.
"Richard Kuklinski," the 'dead' suspect said, "an enforcer for the New York mob a few years back. Read your textbook."
"......Oh."
The instructor let out a long sigh and keyed his radio.
"Which one of you yahoos double booked this damn flight?"
He held out his hand to help up the 'suspect' off the ground. He examined the bright red paint splotch on the man's chest. The kid got in a good shot. He took down this particular suspect very efficiently. He was mildly impressed.
"Sorry Mac, we had to run a couple of drills this morning. Oh yeah, Tucker has your bank robber cornered over by the post office."
Mac had to smile. Tucker had to be pissed he got the wrong suspect. He hated doing these training ops as it was. He wouldn't be surprised if he finds out that Tucker blow the balls off the rookie's bank robber just out of spite.
Less then an hour later Mac found Tucker the small cubicle in The Investigative Training Unit office he had been assigned shortly after arriving in Quantico three years prior.
"I heard you took my bank robber out with two slugs to the knees."
"He was pulling away. I'm getting to old for this crap."
"Shit Tucker, your at your prime. What are you thirty; thirty-five max? Hell, I couldn't have out run you when I was twenty.
Tucker only chuckled.
"You were never that young Mac. You were born with a receding hairline and hemorrhoids the size of Montana."
Mac laughed out loud. Tucker never gave a straight answer unless he had to. But he liked him.
When Tucker came to them three years ago he was a man on a mission. He joined the agency with a vendetta mentality against organized crime. Mac had seen this before. A recruit comes in with some romantic idea of changing the wrongs of the world single handedly. Tucker seemed to have fit that bill to a tee. Usually, these superhero wannabes burn themselves out with in the first year. Tucker was the exception to the rule.
Mac had always kept an eye on Tucker since he was a rookie. He always stuck out. He was a decade older than the average college recruit. On top of that he was a true enigma. Rumors ran the gambit about him. There was even one that said the angry scar in his right forearm was from disarming a Miami wise guy. Tucker never discredited any of the stories.
Tucker graduated the top of his recruit training class. After the ceremony, it took emptying a bottle of Black Jack for Mac to find out what made him so determined to take on organized crime. A local operator in New England took away everything, his career as a cop, his family and friends; even his very existence, through time in the witness protection program, for a few years. Mac felt for him. It must have been hard to come back to the world of the living. He couldn't help but wonder if that was why Tucker chose to bury himself behind a desk instead of being out in the field where he belonged.
"Well, I can tell you, your hit man was taken out quite nicely. Although, I thought the kid was going to shit his pants when he saw that Smith and Weston under the coat instead of bank notes."
Tucker leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach.
"Good huh? Should I be looking for a new job?"
"Don't ask me, ask your boss. Speaking of which, he sent me an email the other day. I understand by the end of the week we don't get to call you Tucker anymore."
"It's not that big of a deal. You were the only one who didn't change the 'T' when talking about me anyway."
Mac laughed out loud. It was true. Around the office, Tucker was not known for his endearing charm.
"You did it. You fought to get your name back and you won. It's going to take awhile to remember to call you Hoyt. Martin was bad enough for a first name but 'Woody'? That just sounds like a bad pun."
Tucker looked down at the hands folded on his stomach.
"My name's all I got Mac. It's all I got left."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jordan finished up the last of her paperwork for the day. After pulling a double last night she was ready for some sleep. She hoped her tornado of a roommate didn't have other ideas.
Grabbing her bag she walked out to the elevator. Garret's office was dark already. He had been leaving early on Fridays for a month now. Good for him, Jordan thought to herself. He had been preoccupied getting his new weekend house in the Berks winterized before his wife came home from a case in Indiana. Jordan would never admit to liking her, but Renee Walcott seemed to be good for Garret. Their on again off again relationship lasted through Renee setting up in private practice after her last term in office as District Attorney. Six months of marriage there had been no blood shed. Jordan took it as a good sign.
She was about to push the down button when the elevator doors opened. Inside was an irritated Eddie Winslow holding a strangely subdued, Master John Fitzgerald Maxwell Cavanaugh.
"What happened?"
At the sound of his mother's voice Jack, as everyone called him, let out a pathetic cry and held his arms out as if Eddie were ready to kill him. By the look on Eddie's face Jordan began to wonder if the kid had a point.
"He got lost and this time he went into your escape plan."
Jordan lifted her son out of Eddie's arms. His cry turned in to a whimper ad he buried his face in her shoulder.
"He took off again?"
Eddie explained that Jack and Mrs. Granger, his nanny, were walking to the store. Jack wondered ahead as usual he became disoriented when a group of teenagers walked between the two of them. Before Mrs. Granger knew it Jack was gone.
Jordan didn't need to hear the rest of the story. From the second Jack was mobile he was on the go. He never walked when he could run. Mixed with healthy dose of early street smarts and it sometimes didn't add up too well.
At an early age Jordan taught Jack to run if he ever was separated from the person he was with and felt threatened. He was to run hard and fast finding a safe place, preferably a very public place, where he would get whomever he could find to call only Eddie's direct line to come and get him.
The fear of kidnapping was very real for Jordan. From the moment she found out she was pregnant with Jack she was terrified. At the time Jack's father had a price on his head. Even Blackie's veiled assurance of Woody's safety never reassured Jordan.
Out of desperation, and some sage advice from a confidant, Jordan asked Eddie Winslow to pose as her baby's father. For nine months Eddie was the devoted father–to–be. Even after Jack was born Eddie appeared to the world as proud papa.
By the time Jack was a year old it became evident to the rest of Jordan's inner circle that Eddie was not Jack's biological father. That knowledge was kept with only a handful of people. But the older he got, the more obvious it became.
When Jack was three, the threats to his safety seemed to have died along with the death of Kevin Cahill a year prior. She even took the step to introduced Jack to his paternal grandparents. But Jordan never felt one hundred percent sure. Stranger danger was a very real thing in Jack's life.
"Mrs. Granger went home to take an aspirin."
Eddie voice brought Jordan back to the present. Jordan knew without a doubt Jack got an earful from both Mrs. Granger and Eddie. By the sight tremors that ran though his body she thought he probably scared himself as badly.
"I'll call her later. Thanks Eddie."
"So what's it going to be Mom?"
Jordan focused on her son, who had loosened his grip on her.
"Well dude, you took off on Mrs. Granger again. You gave her another grey hair or two and put poor Eddie in panic mode. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Jack only looked at collar around his mother's neck.
"Pleading the fifth I see. Lieutenant Winslow have you questioned the victim, Mrs. Granger and have come to the conclusion that the suspect in question is guilty of the crime of inappropriate hyperactivity."
"Yes ma'am"
Eddie was relieved to see some of tension leave Jack's body.
"You sound like Miss Renee, Mama." Jack said with a watery smile.
Eddie bit back a smile. Renee Walcott may not be one of Jordan's favorite people but Jack adored her and the feeling was very mutual.
"Yes, be that as it may. I you are sentenced to one week probation which will include no TV and bathtub toys."
"Is one week forever?"
"To a four year old.... yes." Eddie said rubbing the top of Jack's head.
"Will I miss my hockey game?" Jack asked with big eyes.
Jordan set him down and counted the days of the week out on her fingers. Jack let out a sigh of relief when he realized that the Boston College hockey game Peter was taking him to was another eight days away.
"Phew, I was afraid he was gonna have to take a girl."
The word 'girl' came out of Jack's mouth like it was a bad word. Jack discovered hockey when he was spending the evening with Peter a few weeks ago and Peter promised he'd take him to a BC game. Jack agreed only if he didn't bring along one of his girlfriends. Peter whole heartedly agreed. He discovered early on that Jack was very useful in attracting women.
"Ah, the sound of criminal remorse..." Eddie said shaking his head. "You want to grab something to eat?"
"No thanks Eddie. It late; besides we are on probation."
"Mama?!" Jack whined.
Eddie echoed Jack's sediment and picked him up in his arms.
"Don't do the crime if....."
"...You can't do the time." Jack finished.
"You guys watch way to much TV when you're together." Jordan laughed.
"I want to see Nigel." Jack said pulling out of Eddie's arms.
"Sorry pal, part of you sentence is no visitation rights."
Jack rolled his eyes in a mirror image of his mother.
Eddie walked them out to their vehicle. Once Jack was strapped in to the back, Eddie shut the door to be able to get a moment of privacy with his mother.
"When I picked him up at that Starbuck's I didn't know whether kill him or hug him."
"I wish you would have called me."
"As soon as I answered the phone Mrs. Granger had found him. I got him on the line he was scared but safe. I didn't want to upset you."
Jordan understood... sort of. She was Jack's mother. He was her responsibility, but to the rest of the world Eddie was, for all intensive purpose, Jack's father. Eddie felt a sense of responsibility also.
"I owe you Winslow."
"I'll add it to my tab."
With a tap to Jack's window and a wave Eddie walked over to his car and drove off. Jordan thought it was a shame that Eddie never found someone and had children of his own. He was a wonderful father. Eddie offered to marry her, a number of times, but she always turned him down. She had to smile remembering the look of relief that would cross his face every time she said no.
Jordan hopped behind the steering wheel and turned to look at Jack who had found his stash of action figures in the rear pocket. She mentally took an inventory of her kitchen.
"So, is it fish sticks or fish sticks tonight?"
"Pizza."
"Sounds good to me."