A.N.: Are we all morphing into our parents? Let's discuss.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 41. Morph

Thursday 10th November 2016, 2.23pm, 8th Precinct

All it took was Joss' revelation that they made custom 8-foot-wide beds these days to make John return the dog but that didn't mean he was done with Captain Preston Noguerra. For example, sometimes the radio in his car malfunctioned and played a 7-second clip of the theme from Lassie. But he was equally relieved, that Scout was returned without any noticeable injuries or damage, and furious that Scout was returned by an old lady who found her on her doorstep with a note in her mouth. In Shaw's chicken scrawl was written, "Needs better snacks – 8th Precinct". 68-year-old Lucille Munro was quick to say she lived two blocks away and thought Lassie dogs were adorable. That immediately spiked his defences. "Excuse me?"

"You know…the show. I guess you're too young to remember. Have a nice day, Captain Nagiri." He didn't bother to correct her as Laz escorted her out. For someone who thought so much of his image, Noguerra knew what the Precinct was thinking about his canine manhunt not too long ago and it wasn't good.

8.03pm, The R.E.M. Group, Glendale, Queens

Even since Jeremy put his feet under the kitchen table, and on the coffee table and even in his Isotoners because they were so comfortable, Paul and Gina had been having the same conversation every night.

"When is he going home?"

"I don't know."

"He's your father, how can you not know?"

"He said Thanksgiving."

"Pssshhhh. From the looks of it he has nowhere else to go."

"He does – the old house in Norfolk. He's here 'cause he wants something. I need to find out what it is."

And every night, Gina would shake her head, put on a satin hair bonnet and some face cream and tell him to find another way of handling his dad. So when his weekly session with Susan arrived she was so happy so could've baked a box of Jheri curl Jesus cookies for the occasion because emasculated Paul was a real buzzkill and wasn't the man she knew him to be.

Susan anticipated Paul would have another verbal ejection at the beginning of their session to let off steam so she steered him in another direction before he could. "Hello Paul, have you completed the worksheet?"

He knew she was really asking if he'd seen Taylor. "Not yet." She nodded and made a note about avoidance. "But I could have; if it was about my dad."

She understood why he was sweating so profusely, beyond the gym clothes he was wearing. "You spoke to your father?"

"He showed up on my doorstep Saturday night…and…he's kinda staying with us." Paul looked away because he couldn't quite believe it himself.

It wasn't usual for Paul to bring up his father voluntarily, like he did on the anniversary of his mother Nicole's death, so she knew he was on edge because of his unwanted houseguest. "How do you feel about seeing him after so long?"

Paul took a deep breath. "Like crap." He knew she was quiet because she was waiting for him to elaborate. "Like he can't stop jabbing and I can't block fast enough."

"Do you feel attacked? Using your boxing analogy."

He was too proud to say it. "I feel like…he's got me up against the ropes and it's either I breathe and keep living, or fight to the death with an old pro. Smokin' Joe Frazier."

In their years together, Paul had never said outright that his father hit him but it was implied. But I her experience being belittled and mocked had a similar effect to being struck. Susan didn't believe in asking those questions because part of a client's progress came in putting their own words to their own experience. "That sounds like a difficult situation to be in."

"He wants something. He said he wants to see Taylor but I don't buy it."

"Why do you think he wants something?" She queried, noting down 'lack of trust' on her clipboard.

Because he's breathing. "Because…he showed up empty-handed." Paul stopped his involuntary foot-tapping because he didn't want to look like a 'nutcase'.

"How do you feel about the prospect of Taylor meeting his grandfather?"

The nervous hand wringing was more noticeable than the week before. "I guess I avoided it so he wouldn't know how he is; but now…I think he needs it."

"Why?"

So someone knows I'm not crazy. "Just because."

11.46pm, 8th Precinct

Fusco had had his fill of reviewing old traffic camera videos alongside his partner about two hours ago, tracking Dave Prewitt's car moves but on the up-side they had evidence of one of the sex offenders on her list going to a Thai massage parlour which violated the terms of his release. This long and excruciatingly boring way of work was the opposite of being in Finch's 'devil may care' A Team and reminded her of the days when she was 'by the book'. Out of hours, she couldn't find that particular book, or the shelf it sat on, or the library it belonged to. And speaking of untoward practices, Joss had a question for her partner. "What happened to Charlie McElroy's nose?" She asked after her Chinese rice sticks and chow mein run.

"You have your ways and I have mine. Put me outta my misery, Carter."

She sensed something deeper was up with him. "It's a slippery slope, Fusco."

He wasn't in the mood for her advice. "And how's playing nice working out for ya? Besides playing To catch a Predator?"

Joss raised he reyebrows. "So that's what we do now? What's up with you?"

A few angry chews later he responded. "Phillipe got a new job and he's raking it in so instead of watching the game with me, they're taking my kid to Saratoga Springs this weekend."

"I'm sorry, Fusco."

He played it off like it didn't bother him the way it did. "Anyway, I'm taking Vonnie on our third and fourth date on my day off."

She was impressed. It wasn't like him to divulge those kinds of details because fate (or Finch) usually conspired to gate-crash his attempts at a normal personal life. So she gave him the response he needed. "At least we can place Dave Prewitt in the area, and with Elmer's testimony, his behavioural records at work, and the camera footage; that's enough for a warrant. So sometimes the nice guy wins."

He couldn't believe she was handling Noguerra's set-up so well. "Anything to give the big guy the finger, huh?"

She smiled. "There's that…and Joey deserves better than dying that way. Abused and alone." That was enough to put his problems into perspective.

Veterans Day, Friday 11th November 2016, 7.21am, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

For the first night since his arrival, Gina didn't ask about the duration of Jeremy's stay because she knew it was too long regardless. Paul seemed better, less burdened after counselling, but his father woke up extra early to catch him before work. The idea of his first-born son whining in a room, spilling all his business and crying like a little girl didn't sit right with him. "So how long are you gonna keep this up?" Jeremy asked, noticing there were more bacon rashers on Paul's plate than his. "This shrink business."

Paul sighed and filled in the last three numbers in the Sudoku box. "As long as I want. What do you want?"

Jeremy was confused. "To see Taylor like I told you already."

"I don't believe you."

"You calling me a liar?" Jeremy asked, locking his fingers together with his elbows on the kitchen table.

Gina didn't know where to look but the tension was putting her off the most important meal of the day. "You want something and I know it." Paul stated, locking eyes with his father. "You always do."

"I want…to eat my breakfast in peace but I can't without you throwing some girly bitchfit." Jeremy said casually, spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

Gina watched her man morph into someone she didn't recognise. It started with a smile, then his lips parted unleashing a reckless tongue. "Taylor's gonna know you're trash. Eat up."

7.47am, Joss' apartment, New York

Even though he'd only been home for 20 minutes, restless John couldn't wait to move into a place that was equally theirs even though Joss was taking the organised and timely route with packing. Keep, give, sell, throw away. Her sell box was empty, her throw away box had some torn clothes courtesy of John, her give box was almost full, and her keep box could've been the whole place. He sensed her hesitation and knew he couldn't just push her into what he wanted or ask her 'What is it about this stuff?' Guess that's what normal people do.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" Joss asked, in good spirits because she had an arrest warrant for Dave Prewitt and planned to nab him at the office first thing Monday morning.

"No reason." John took off his shirt because it was almost time to sleep on his vampiric schedule. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She smirked and run her hand down his chest. "You're going all Magic Mike on me and that's not fair. So what'd you get up to last night? Gunpowder, treason and plot?"

"If I told you…"