"Ewww," Joanna moaned later that morning. "Now I'm glad Sean never lets me see where he works. His captain groped you? That's so . . . skeezy!"

Alex shifted her hands on the table they were splayed out on, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn't smudge her newly-polished nails. "Yeah, well, there's a certain level of tolerance I've built up from working almost exclusively with men for years. But being groped by someone ranked higher than lieutenant, and so blatantly . . . that's a new one, I think."

Jo giggled and adjusted her own hands. "Last I heard, Sean's terrified of the guy - which I actually find extremely amusing. Did he manage to say something to him about it? "

"You think I'm stupid?" Alex replied, aghast at the thought. "I didn't tell him about it 'til we were out the door and in the car, believe me. I've got enough issues with protective brothers as it is, I don't need to create more problems."

"Hmm." Jo lifted one hand closer to the light and examined her nails. "You think this red is too loud?"

"Maybe," Alex said thoughtfully, "but who the hell's going to say anything? Three-quarters of the people you see in a given day only see you with gloves on. The only person who's going to pay attention to your nails is Sean. Well, and any other guy who checks you out. And trust me, guys like red."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She put her hand back on the table and sighed dramatically. "It's just that they won't match my teddy-bear scrubs."

Alex laughed. "I don't think the hospital cares much about color coordination on its nurses. Now my polish," she added, displaying a hand, "is the opposite - probably not loud enough. It would have been interesting to see the looks I got if I went to work with fire-engine-red nails."

Jo studied the shimmery pink that covered Alex's nails. "Yeah, it is kinda . . . subdued. You know," she went on with a crafty look, "there's still time to change it. I'm sure they won't mind redoing you if you give them a big tip."

She bit her lip and looked at her nails again. "You think I should? It'd shock the hell out of Bobby."

Jo raised a pointed eyebrow but didn't comment on the reference. "I think you should. Come on, we'll match. It'll freak Sean out."

"Well . . . fine, ok," Alex said with a grin. "God, how pathetic is it that painting my nails red is what counts as wild rebellion in my life?"

Jo waved the manicurist back over to their table and explained that her friend had changed her mind and would like a new color. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said a few minutes later as she watched the woman start to re-paint Alex's left hand, "I think the whole sleeping with your partner thing is pretty wildly rebellious, at least judging by the shit fit your dad had when he heard about it."

"Hah." She used a knuckle to scratch her nose. "My dad thinks I'm still sixteen. I tried to explain to him that my sex life was actually a whole lot wilder back when I was sixteen than now, but I don't think he quite got the message. He actually had the nerve to go to my captain and start asking questions."

"Questions about Bobby?" Jo winced at the thought. "Should I be afraid to ask what kind of questions?"

Schooling her face into a look of complete exasperation, Alex rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that Dad can sleep comfortably at night now that he knows Bobby's not a wife-beater."

"What?" She stared at Alex in shock for a second. "He asked your captain that? My god, what do you do to damage-control something like that?"

"I started by kicking my dad out of the squad room, for one thing." She glanced at the rack of nail polish bottles that sat at one end of the table. "Should we get matching toes?"

"Of course. We simply can't have clashing hands and feet," Jo replied with mock-horror. "What would our menfolk say when they see both at the same time?"

Alex snorted. "Maybe your 'menfolk.' Mine is officially clueless and probably doesn't even notice that I have nails."

Jo considered Alex's remark for a second before saying, "You know, I still want to hear the rest of the story about but your dad, but before we get back to that - can I point out that that was the second time in five minutes that you referenced Bobby in a context where I was talking about boyfriends?"

Alex nodded with a tired sigh, not even bothering to deny it. "I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I did almost the same thing on the phone with my mom last night and I hung up so fast after I realized it that she didn't even get to say goodbye."

"So what gives? Is he or isn't he?"

"I would much rather discuss this over a bottle of wine or five, if it has to be discussed, but that's still against doctor's orders, so . . . I guess I have to settle. Short answer is that I don't have a friggin' clue if he is or not. We definitely haven't 'slept together' in the sense everyone thinks we have . . . although that's not necessarily from lack of trying on my part."

"What's the long answer?"

She smiled ruefully. "Let's just say that everyone in the world except for Bobby already thinks we are. Which ties in neatly to the story about my dad, by the way - after I booted him out, I went to my captain expecting to either get chewed out or be totally humiliated, and you know what he said to me when I asked about what my dad talked to him about?"

Jo blew on the nails of her right hand, trying to speed up the drying. "No, what?"

"He said, and I quote," she began, then switched into a deeper voice in imitation of Deakins, " 'Alex, there are some things about your life that I don't want to know. And I want to make sure I never know them. I think you know what I mean.'"

"You're kidding. Like, he already thought you and Bobby were . . .?"

"Yes! Like it came as absolutely no surprise to him and he was puzzled by the fact that I was freaking out."

"I take it he's not an ass-grabbing type of captain, then, if he's cool about something like that?"

Alex burst out laughing, startling the woman who had just started to paint her pinky nail. "Sorry," she told the woman. When the manicurist just shook her head and chuckled, Alex turned back to Jo. "My god, no he's not, and he better never become one! He's actually a pretty decent guy, as brass go."

"Ok, so let me get this straight: your boss thinks you two are playing house and has no problem with it; your whole family thinks you're screwing him and your dad's afraid he's going to beat you up . . . and Bobby's not acknowledging that maybe the rest of the world has figured out what's going on even if he hasn't?"

"Yep, that pretty much covers it. Except I think he's gone beyond just 'not acknowledging' to 'actively being in denial.'"

"I'm starting to think you're going to need more than just new nail polish to counterbalance all that. Like maybe a whole makeover."

"Not a chance in hell, Jo," Alex said quickly. "I like my look how it is."

"Hmmmm." Jo leaned back in her chair as the manicurist set Alex's hands back on the table and ordered her to stay still for ten minutes. "Alex . . . how are you feeling right now? Tired? Hurt-y?"

Alex blinked. "Uh . . . pretty much ok. Why?"

"You up for some shopping?"

"I guess. What do you need?"

Jo let out a long-suffering sigh. "Not for me, dingbat. For you!"

"But I don't need anything," Alex said, confused. "What would I even go shopping for?"

"Clothes! We need to find you a shirt to go with your wild new nails."

Alex looked down at her hands and then back up at Jo. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"Jo, I've spent the past two weeks wearing Bobby's old flannel shirts. Believe me, what I'm wearing right now is racy compared to those."

"You're wearing a boring old blouse! That's no fun. We need to get you something low-cut."

Alex snorted. "Yeah, because everyone wants to see bruises all over a girl's chest when she wears a v-neck."

"I thought you only really had bruising over your ribs," Jo said. "At least, that's what everyone's been saying."

"Well, ok, most of it's on my ribs, yeah. But still," she went on, suddenly glad they were in a beauty parlor full of only women, "I can't wear a bra, and probably the scar on my chest will peek out from anything really low-cut."

"Oh, stop making excuses! Come on, your boobs are small enough that you can go bra-less, and trust me, the scar's not gonna show if it's like all the scars I've seen on punctured lung patients. So what if it does, anyway?"

Alex sighed. "You're seriously set on this, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

The manicurist working at the table next to them looked up from her client's hands and told Alex with a grin, "I agree with her, hon. You can't go wrong with something low-cut, even if you aren't totally perfect."

"Oh, for god's sake, fine!" Alex conceded, feeling a hint of excitement in spite of herself. "But not 'til after lunch, please? That'll give me time to regain some energy, plus there'll be time for our nails to dry before we start handling clothes we don't own."

"Red?" was the first thing Sean said as he sat down across from the two women in the restaurant they'd chosen for lunch. "Both of you?"

"What," Jo challenged teasingly, "we don't look like the femme fatale type? Check out the feet."

He obediently ducked his head under the table for a second. "On your toes too? Did you guys smoke anything funny this morning?"

"Sorry," Alex said with a smirk. "I'm off weed until I can give my dealer a doctor's note."

"Har, har." Sean paused, accepting a glass of water from the waiter, then looked back at his companions. "But ok, I'll admit it looks good on both of you. Good thing you got it done after the narcs met you, huh Alex?"

She shuddered. "Ugh. One ass-grabber was enough, I don't need to encourage any more."

Jo poked Alex in the shoulder and grinned. "Well, they may not be narcs, but after I'm done with you today, I promise, you'll have lots of guys willing to grab your ass."

"Oh, that's just what I need. I can't even handle the one I have!" she replied dryly.

"One of what?" Sean asked, trying to follow their jokes while studying the menu at the same time. "You have an ass-grabber?"

"No!" Alex kicked Jo under the table and gave her a warning glare. "She's kidding."

"I already ordered, Sean." Jo plucked the menu out of his hands and set it down. "You're getting a reuben. And I'm not kidding. Well, I may be exaggerating a little, but not kidding."

"He hasn't grabbed my ass! Ever!"

"Well, maybe you should get him to," Jo retorted, sticking out her tongue. "I hear it does wonders for -"

Alex slapped a hand over Jo's mouth. "Shut up!"

"Would one of you care to tell me who you're talking about?" Sean asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," they said in unison.

He sighed. "Should have known. What did I expect from throwing you two together for a girls day, anyway?"

"You haven't seen the half of it," Jo told him, leaning forward as though she didn't want Alex to hear, but speaking in a normal voice. "Wait'll you hear what we're doing with our afternoon."

"Is it something you could get arrested for? Because seriously, if you get picked up by Vice, that's Alex's problem, not mine."

"Sean!" Alex picked up a piece of her bread as though she wanted to throw it, then checked herself and put it back down. "You're lucky we're in public, buddy. Trust me, I'm in no shape for streetwalking, and I don't think someone who's worried about her nails clashing with her scrubs would make a very good hooker, either."

"Which scrubs?" Sean asked Jo, choosing not to argue with his sister about her hooking talents.

"The teddy-bear ones."

He thought about that. "Yeah, but you have those ones with strawberries all over them . . . you could wear those."

"Yeah," Alex said with a snort, "or just make sure you handle the trauma patients and get nice and bloody."

"Oh, yeah, because holding someone's skin closed over their skull while blood pours out is my idea of fun."

Sean blinked. "You're so lucky that you're dating a family of hardass cops, you know that, Jo? Any other two people would be either puking or looking at you like you have two heads after hearing that."

"Damn, I'm dating the whole family now? I'll have to free up more of my weekends . . ." she replied, eyes twinkling with humor.

"I feel the need to point out, having had first-hand experience," Alex said evenly, "that being the person having their head held closed isn't terribly amusing either."

Jo blinked. "Damn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

"It's ok. Besides," Alex said with a small smile, "I think Bobby was at least as traumatized as I was by it - if not more."

The waiter brought their lunches before either of the other two could respond to Alex's comment, and the next few minutes were occupied with the sounds of chewing and clicking silverware.

Finally, Sean put down his fork and looked at Alex. "He certainly seems more traumatized by it than you do."

She sighed. "There are things about my reaction that you haven't seen. But I'll agree that he definitely looks worse off than I do. Plus he was conscious for more of it than I was."

"You know Mom's still worried about you, right?" Sean asked. "Rumor has it she practically brained Dad last night for asking questions about you to the wrong person or something and getting you mad."

Jo snorted. " 'Wrong person' . . . yeah, you could say that."

"Why, who was it?" he asked, looking from one woman to the other. "Did he hunt down Bobby or something?"

Alex groaned and shut her eyes against the memory. "Worse."

"Worse than having your father corner the guy he's asking about? Geez," he said, trying to think of what could top that.

"Don't you dare," Alex blurted a few seconds later, catching Jo just as she opened her mouth to tell Sean the story. "It's a long story, Sean. Too long for lunch."

"Hmm, it must be good."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Jo will tell you all about it as soon as you drop me off at home tonight."

Jo shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, probably. But I guess we do need to hurry if we're going to get to Macy's in midtown and then back."

"Macy's?" Sean echoed. "What are you going there for?"

"Uh, how about shopping?" Alex teased.

"Uh, how about 'for what?'" Sean shot back.

"Clothes, dumbass," Jo said, rolling her eyes. "We're buying clothes to go with our wild and crazy red nails."

"You're. . . you're matching your clothes to your . . . fingernails?"

Both women burst out laughing. "Ah, Sean," Alex finally managed, patting his shoulder sympathetically, "you have so much to learn about women."

"Yeah, guess I do," he said with a sigh. "But really . . . to your nails?"

"One of these days, you'll figure it out, hon," Jo told him, standing up. "Now, we've gotta go." She stepped around the side of the table to kiss him, then grinned. "You're paying, Sean. Come on, Alex."

Alex followed Jo toward the door, glancing over her shoulder at her brother and giving him a sympathetic-yet-amused shrug.

"No! Absolutely not!" Alex held up a hand to stop Jo from pushing the wheelchair any closer to her. "I am not going around in public in a wheelchair when I have a perfectly good set of legs."

"Ok, first of all," Jo shot back, "we're standing in the doorway of Macy's, not strolling the streets and greeting people we know. Second of all, you're going to get tired, even if you aren't now, and I'm so not carrying you out of here if you pass out on me. Third of all, let's face it: you are a cripple for the time being! Just think of it as . . . a break from walking. " she added, nudging Alex and grinning.

Alex shook her head. "No, Jo."

"Oh, for the love of god, just put your ass in the chair. We're not arguing about this. If it's such a huge issue, then you can walk next to it until you feel like you need it, but either way, it's coming with us."

Still scowling, Alex conceded defeat and dropped into the wheelchair. "I feel like I'm back in the hospital."

"Yeah, and you've got your own personal nurse and personal shopper, all in one. Now behave yourself while I get us in the elevator."

"Jo . . ." Alex said in a voice perilously close to a whine as she was wheeled into the metal car. "I hate this!"

"Stop complaining or I'm telling Bobby that you were trying to overdo it."

The threat had the intended effect and Alex subsided again, but kept glaring at Jo.

Jo noticed an elderly woman watching them curiously as the elevator rose toward the fifth floor. The woman's eyebrows climbed a little farther up on her forehead each time Alex let out a disgusted sigh or whined. "She's just really independent," Jo explained apologetically to the woman. "She refuses to acknowledge that she might possibly need help."

The woman's face split into a smile. "The stronger they are, the more they complain about being laid up, huh? My husband was the same way when he got shot - oh, but that was years ago," she added, noticing their looks of alarm. "My Dan was a policeman, but he's been retired for years."

"Your husband was a cop?" Alex repeated, suddenly a lot more interested in this grandmotherly woman. "Where?"

"Oh, they bounced him around to precincts all over Manhattan. My, how he used to complain every time he got reassigned!" She chuckled and shook her head. "He never quite understood that it was because he was so good."

Jo smiled warmly. "What's your name, ma'am? Alex, here," she said, pointing to her, "is a cop, from a family of cops. Maybe one of them knows your husband."

"My goodness, you're on the force?" the woman gasped, looking at Alex with new eyes. "I never would have thought it! You look so . . ."

"Fragile?" Alex supplied. "That's what everyone thinks. But nope, I really am a cop . . . although lately there have been moments where I regret it. Mostly the moments when I want to murder my partner. Oh, I'm sorry," she broke off, offering a hand to the woman. "I'm Alex Eames, and my friend is Jo Williams."

"Constance Griffith," the woman replied, shaking Alex's hand. "But you can call me Connie. Now let's see . . . Eames . . . Ah! Any relation to Frank Eames? I believe there was a patrolman Dan worked with by that name."

Alex grinned. "That's my uncle!"

"Oh, how wonderful! Dan will love to hear about him - how's he doing?"

"He's ok. He retired a few years ago and he and his wife moved to Florida. Said they were going to go down there and show all the old fogies how to live."

The elevator dinged and all three women paused and looked up. "What floor are you going to, girls?" Connie asked them.

"Five," Jo answered. "We're looking to buy something sexy for Alex."

"Jo!"

Connie chuckled. "Sexy, huh? What's the occasion?"

Alex watched the elevator doors open in front of them and sighed. "It's a long story. A really long story," she said as Jo pushed her out onto the floor.

"Hmm." Connie followed them out. "I wonder if you'd mind some company? I'm only here to do boredom shopping anyway, and quite frankly, you two are a lot more interesting than looking at purses I can't afford."

Alex and Jo looked at each other and shrugged. "Sure," Jo said. "How's your fashion sense? I have a feeling Alex is going to need some persuasion."

"Well, I don't know how much of a handle I have on 'sexy,'" Connie said thoughtfully, "but I do ok with choosing clothes in general. Tell you what - I'll help you guys find something nice if, in return, Alex tells me this intriguingly long story about whatever you're buying the outfit for."

The two younger woman exchanged another look, then looked back at Connie and grinned. "Deal," they said at the same time.