Title: Shadows of his past
Rating: R - Violence and such
Players: Finney Jr, Finney Sr, and others.
Category: Angst
Summary: Things trigger memories of Finney's past
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Okay this chapter was breal/b hard for me to write. Don't know why, just couldn't seem to figure it out. It's taken me over a month to finally finish it. It's a little different then the rest. It's from both Finney Sr. and Finney Jr's POV. Please let me know what you think, depending on the reviews I don't know if or when there will be a chapter 9. So read it, hopefully people will review it, and try to enjoy it.

I looked at the detective; we were a good hour or so into the questioning, me sharing the horrors of my childhood.

"It says here that when you were six you received four stitches in the back of your head because, you slipped on ice."

"That's what it says but that's not what happened." I stare down into my coffee; I'm unable to drink it.

"What happened officer?" He questions me, not looking up from the yellow, steno pad that lie in front of him.

I stall taking my time answering him. "My Dad - he -- well he pushed me down the stairs, I hit my head." I watched as the detective scribbles everything I say down. I bring the coffee cup up to my mouth, the once steam hot liquid now luke warm.

"This wasn't the first incident?"

"No sir, nor was it the last." I reply. I put the cop back down. This was a lot harder then I thought. I had to do it though, for Bridget's sake.

"You sister, once spent a week in the hospital for a bruised kidney? It says here she fell in the playground."

"My father got mad at her, so he kicked her." I can't look at him.

"Hard enough to bruise her kidney?"

"That's right sir. We didn't know at first. She was crying because it hurt, ya know? Who could blame her? It hurt when she breathed and all, but we didn't know it was bad. She went to the bathroom suddenly she started screaming. She saw blood in her urine. So we took her to the hospital."

"Was your father always abusive to you, your mother and your sister?" He asks me.

"No, not always. When they released my sister from the hospital, he was actually nice to her. He bought her ice cream, a new doll; let her stay up with him watching TV. He even held her in his lap. It was like he felt guilty you know. He was real good to her for a few days, but it didn't last. Something happened at work, and he brought home his anger with him. Taking it out on us."

"Your broken ribs?" The detective asked me. "How did that happen?"

"My dad was beating up on my mother again, so I went to stop him. I was trying to help her. He didn't approve, so he hit me over the ribs with his baton."

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I sat staring at the detective, knowing I could easily have his badge. What right did he have asking me these questions? Who was he, didn't he know I out ranked him. "You have no right to be asking me these kinds of questions, detective. I loved my family and I would never hurt them."

The detective looked up at me ignoring my comment. "Your son Brendan received four stitches to the back of his head when he was six."

"Yes, I don't remember how it happened." I reply.

"Says here he slipped on ice."

That was it. That was the excuse we used. "Yes now I remember, out in front of the house. He ran ahead of me, he wasn't pay attention and slipped on the ice falling." I say.

"He says you pushed him down the stairs." The detective told me.

"Well he made that up. I never laid a hand on him."

"So when your daughter Bridget was admitted to St. Vincent's hospital for a bruised Kidney, you didn't do that by kicking her?"

"Detective, I don't know where you got your information." I leaned in resting my elbows on the table. "Bridget fell in the school playground. She came home from school later that day not felling to well. We thought it was the stomach flu. That was until she found blood in her urine, then told us what really happened. " I pause. "It was hard on her mother and I; she was so little, to have her stay in the hospital, it was rough. It wasn't fair to her either."

I watch him writing down everything I had just told him. "My children were very accident prone, detective. If it wasn't Bridget getting hurt, it was my son Brendan."

"Yes sir, we pulled up they're hospital records. They've both had frequent trips to the emergency room, as well many hospital stays for their injuries."

"Like I said they were very accident prone."

"Hmm mm." He replied to me, writing away. He flipped a few pages back, in his notebook and read something over a few times.

"I love my kids with all my heart. I tried to raise them right. It worked with my son, but my daughter wasn't so lucky. She struggled so hard, but she just couldn't make it." I slam my fists on the table. "It's hard enough I have to bury her the day after tomorrow. I don't need you guys making stories up. What would her mother think if she heard this? She's been a mess. If she hears this, it'll make her worse. Just let me bury my daughter without any problems. Let my family grieve."

The detective looks at me, he shakes his head. "That's why you hit them." He mumbled.

"Where do you get off of accusing me of that? I never touched either of them. Like I said I loved them, I loved Bridget more then life itself, she was my daughter, my pride in joy. It wasn't easy razing her, and now it's too late. Bringing me in here and accusing me of something I didn't do, isn't making this better on my family. We want to bury her, but can't because they wouldn't release the body." I stood up I had enough of this. "I have places to be." I said. "So if you'll excuse me."

"We'll be in contact with you Captain Finney." He says.

"And you will know where to find me." I left the interrogation room slamming the door behind me.

XXXXXXXXX

"So what next?" I asked them. I finished telling them everything I knew, explaining to them what it was like growing up under my father's roof. What it was really like. Not the so-called happy go lucky family, he showed at the family picnics, but the real Finney family.

"We'll be in contact with you. We're going to go over the case from here."

"You're gunna arrest him right?" I ask. They couldn't let me dad get away with it.

"We'll let you know officer Finney." He shakes my hand.

I sigh to myself. "Thank you for all your time sir." I return the handshake.

"Your welcome, and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." I numbly leave the interrogation room, heading to the locker room so I can begin my shift. Swersky said I could have taken the day off, but working was a distraction. I distraction I so desperately needed. Heading into the locker room, I pushed the door open and silently walked over to my locker room avoiding the eye contact and stares from everyone else.

"How you holdin' up man?" Davis asked me as I opened my locker.

I shrug. "I...ya know?" I really didn't have an answer for him, I still was in a fog, and it still wasn't real.

"Yeah." He replies watching me for a few minutes. "You know if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. You have my number."

I nod in reply. I had been riding with Davis for a while now, he and I were friends, but suddenly everyone seemed to becoming out of the woodwork to offer their help. Sure I appreciated it, but I was tired of it. "Thanks." I said buttoning up my shirt, then adjusting my tie. "I won't be here tomorrow." I say to him, closing my locker door, I began tying my boot. "Her wake is tomorrow."

Davis. "Okay no problem, I was thinking of stopping by, paying my respects."

"Thanks Davis." I look up at him. "I'll see you in roll." I tell him before finally leaving the locker room. I just wanted all this to be over. If I couldn't get Bridget back, I just wanted this to end.