(A/n: I just have one thing to say - this chapter contains a tiny spoiler for the season finale - whatever the ep was called.)

"So how are things going?" Dana shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, as we stand in her kitchen. It's a quiet, sunny Saturday afternoon.

It annoys me sometimes, how much I let my job run my life. I grew up with the woman standing across from me. I was in her bridal party, when she got married. I'm her daughter's godmother. But I've only been in her house three times and she's lived here for a year.

"Not bad." I stretch and look around her kitchen. It's painted a shade of yellow that I can't put a name to, but it looks good. The new refrigerator that she and her husband just bought is covered with magnets, the kids' artwork and school work, and a few family photos. There's something about walking into a kitchen of a house where a family lives. It just feels good.

"Did you do what I told you to?" Dana adjusts her ponytail and looks at me. "Well, did you?"

I nod. "And it worked out. It's been a few months now. Most guys don't last past the first date, so this has gotta mean something."

"Good for you. I'd like to see you happy for once, you know?" A scream and a squeal from the living room has her rushing across the kitchen, in what we've jokingly come to call "Mom Mode". "Jason, leave your sister alone. Can you two just stop it? Please?"

With that settled, she comes back into the kitchen to talk to me. "Be glad you don't have kids. Trust me." Dana takes up a knife and begins chopping up vegetables for a salad. "I love 'em both, but the way they fight, now - it's driving me crazy."

"You know I'd give everything up, if I had a chance to be a mother."

"Yeah. I know you would. I don't regret it, scar, scar tissue and everything."

"What?"

"You know Amy was a C-section. I have the scar and the scar tissue. It doesn't matter how much you work out - you're always gonna have that little bulge of scar tissue. They're just telling me that, now, after me spending fourteen years trying to get rid of the damned thing."

Her oldest, my goddaughter, Amy, wanders into the kitchen. "Mom?" She questions, pushing her long hair out of her face.

"Yeah?"

"I think Dad's burning something out there."

"Figures." Dana rolls her eyes. "What did I tell you - never leave a guy alone to cook. Gimme a sec, Liv - I gotta go check on this."

The girl perches on a chair beside me. She has a strong resemblance to her father, with his light brown hair and green eyes, but if you look at the shape of her face, she looks like her mother.

"Hey." I greet. When she was little, she'd sit with me and talk for hours. But now she's tight-lipped and quiet. Typical teenager.

"Hey." She rests one hand on the countertop, revealing thick black nail polish a couple of silver rings and a wristband.

"How's school?"

"You sound like my Dad." Amy replies, rolling her eyes. "But if you want to know, I hate it."

"Why?"

"It's boring."

I shake my head. She's like me, when I was her age. The public school system just didn't challenge me. I got bored, so I started to hate school.

She's a bright kid. Dana's told me that they've talked about putting her in a private school that will give her a challenge, but they can't afford it. They're a pair of civil servants - they couldn't afford the tuition for a good private school in this city.

"Your birthday's coming up, huh?"

She nods. "Um-hm."

"I got you something a little early. I didn't know when I'd get to see you again. It's out in the car. Hang on a sec."

I hand her the small, gift-wrapped bundle, when I come back inside. It's not a typical gift, for a normal teenager, but I think she'll like it. She's a quiet kid, who was grabbing books from the minute she knew how to read. Now, she's dabbling in poetry. I've read a few of her poems and they're actually good.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Amy looks at me, green eyes questioning.

"Yeah. I, uh, wasn't sure if you'd like it or not, but it was sitting at home on my bookshelf, collecting dust. I got that copy when I was in college, but when my mom died, I got a bunch of her books. I know it's not cool, but your mom tells me you like romance."

"Yeah. We read part of this in school, but it wasn't the whole thing." She rests the old book on the counter and hugs me. "Thanks."

"So you're not disappointed I didn't get you something, you know, cool? Because I can take you shopping or something."

"No. I don't mind." She grins at me and darts up the stairs, the old book in her hands.

When supper's ready, I step out onto the back deck. It looks out over a green lawn. When you sit back here, you'd never guess you were sitting in New York City. It's peaceful and quiet.

"Hey, you." Dana's husband, Chris, turns from the grill and gives me a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek. "Didn't you hear me when I said "don't be a stranger?"

"Yeah. I did hear you, but I don't think my boss did." I reply.

"Beer?" He reaches down to a cooler and pulls out a bottle.

"Nah. I'm driving."

"I'll get you a cab - I'll drop the car off at your place, later. I'm going into work tonight, to pull off a sting. We've been setting this up for months. So did you guys get anywhere with that case, about the two Reservists"-

"Hey." Dana cuts in, with a bunch of dishes in her hands. "No shop talk. I know when you get a bunch of you people together, all you know how to do is talk shop, but can you knock it off?"

Chris shakes his head. "Fine. But, seriously, did you get anywhere?"

"Nah. The military doesn't like it when people ask questions. A Grand Jury didn't hold the Army or the company that made the drug responsible."

"It kinda makes you wonder what they have to hide from us." He comments.

"Um-hm." I nod, taking a couple of plates from Dana.

Dana and I are in the kitchen loading the dishwasher, after supper. The kids are somewhere in the house and her husband is in the living room, watching TV. "Did you see Jason, all during supper?" She asks, rinsing off a plate.

"Yeah. Now I see what you mean. I wonder if he's clued in that I'm about two months younger than his mother."

"Nah. You don't age."

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't. Hey, Chris!" Dana calls.

"What, babe?" He puts down the remote.

"Doesn't she look like ten years younger than she really is?"

"If you're gonna kill me for answering, then I'm gonna invoke my right to remain silent."

Dana rolls her eyes. "Just answer the damned question and lose the legal crap."

"Yeah. You couldn't guess her age and be right about it." He grins at me.

"You're like my mother. You don't age. Or if you do, you age really well. You don't see it, because you're constantly picking at yourself, but you look good."

I stifle a yawn, as she turns on the dishwasher. "Hey, guys, I'm gonna get a cab and go home. I'm sorry, but I'm wiped." I step out of the kitchen and find my jacket.

"Here." Chris digs out his wallet and pulls out a few bills. "That'll cover the fare and a tip. I'll drop your car off, later on, if you give me the keys."

I reach into my pocket and toss him the keys. "Okay. 'Night."

"Goodnight." Dana walks with me to the door. "You could come around a little more often, you know? If you don't get some time off, I'm gonna have to go in and talk to your boss, because you don't work sane hours."

I shake my head. If she carries through with her threat, I think I might get into some serious crap.