Chapter Forty: Wednesday, January 4, 2006, New York

"Cathy." Kyle McCarty looked up from his coffee, startled when she joined him in the cafeteria. Maxine, Bruce, and his cousin Vincent had joined Amy in sitting vigil with Elliot. Lauren had vanished, although no one seemed concerned about where she'd gone. Samantha, a near total stranger, had volunteered to take Nicole home with her and her husband, her children, and Kyle had found himself agreeing if for no other reason than he had no idea what to do. His home—Elliot's home, if you wanted to get technical—was still a crime scene, and in any case, it was a mess, although Kyle suspected Elliot's secretary, the formidable Mrs. Miller, had already lined crews who would have it put back to rights by the time Elliot was released. In the meantime, he could go to Hartford.

"How are faring?" Cathy asked him.

"Honestly?"

She smiled. "Or a polite lie," she teased.

He chuckled. "I'm not sure I can even manage one of those right now."

"I imagine you're going to need a place to stay for a little while."

He shrugged. Elliot could have died. A place to stay was the last thing anyone should be worrying about.

"I have an apartment in the city. You're welcome to use it. Or you could come home with me and stay with my family tonight. If you think you're up to it. On the other hand, the offer comes with a home cooked meal, something it looks like you could use about now."

He opened his mouth, closed it again. He nodded. Whatever their "little "secret" was, he was a part of it now. Might as well find out how "little" it really wasn't—but he was pretty sure it was pretty big. "A home cooked meal sounds like just want the doctor ordered," he joked; her smile deepened. "I just have to pick up Nicole."

"I can ask Samantha to bring her down."

Down? He decided not to ask. "So…is everyone part of whatever this is?"

"Many of our friends have connections to the Tunnels."

A tall, imposing man in a dark suit strode into the cafeteria. "Mrs. Chandler-Wells. I've been looking for you."

She favored him with a professional smile. "Detective Logan. It appears as if you've found me."

"I should go." Kyle stood up. "Unless you need me too?"

"As long as you told us everything you know?"

Kyle shrugged. "What's there to tell? Some lunatic shot up my cousin's apartment and almost killed her husband." That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Somehow, Logan didn't look entirely convinced—but Cathy remained placid.

"I'll call you later about dinner," she said to Kyle, then turned to Logan. "So, Detective, what can I do for you?"

….

Simon looked down at the gift Cathy had brought him. She'd gotten to meet Mary, however briefly, before Mary slipped out, as much because she had to be on a plane back to Puerto Rico as because she didn't want to risk running into Mom and Dad. Simon didn't blame her—but just the same, he'd asked Cathy if she'd check up on them. She seemed to be making the rounds, checking in, keeping everyone connected. Letting Amy's family have time with her and Elliot, while they waited for him to wake up.

The gift, a blank journal (the expensive leather-bound kind, with hundreds of thick, blank pages) and a new pen (the kind with water-proof ink), she'd explained was something of a tradition in her family.

A new journal for a new phase in your life.

A place to write his thoughts, his hopes.

His dreams.

Favorite poems or passages from books.

Simon had never kept a journal before, but he was looking forward to starting and he was touched that Cathy would include him in their family traditions. He only wished his own family could be half as supportive.

Zach had been by, too, to tell him not to worry about rent or anything like that until he was back on his feet. They hadn't expected to rent the room so quickly, so they were set for at least a month.

Joel had cleared him to start work at the school, as long as he took it easy, in two weeks. Henry Pei phoned him to say he knew what was going on and that Simon should rest up and give him a call when he was clear to work on his feet—but any time he wanted to come by, he was welcome. Henry could find him something to do sitting down—or just feed him, because after all, he should learn the menu, shouldn't he?

It sounded suspiciously like an excuse—not that Simon minded. Not that he intended to abuse it, either. He was being reimbursed for last semester. He would at least have money for food.

But he wouldn't mind the opportunity to get to know the menu or to spend time with his new boss. He liked Henry and Lin.

"Knock, knock."

Simone looked up. "Hey, Dad."

"Can I come in?"

"You can always come in," Simon told him. "Is Mom with you?"

"She went back to the hotel. I haven't heard, is there any word on Elliot Burch?"

"Not yet. But Joel—Dr. Fleischman—said not to worry. He said I can go home tomorrow, too," Simon added.

"Home as in…?"

"As in Samantha and Zach's place."

"There are a lot of stairs in that house."

"My room has a bathroom. I should be okay."

Dad, unsurprisingly, didn't look happy.

"I know you and Mom are worried about me, but I'm fine. Really. I'm happy."

"You know we only want what's best for you."

"You're just going to have to trust me to figure that out on my own."

Dad sighed. He nodded. "I won't stay long. I…um…your mom and I…."

"It's okay for you to go back home. I'll be all right. I have people here looking out for me, Dad."

"We noticed that." He didn't seem happy, though. "Richard and Rosina are here. They got in sometime last night. They're heading over to Matt and Sarah's—but they wanted me to give you their love."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll call over there when I get a chance."

Wednesday, January 4, 2006, Glen Oak

"You're kidding! Tell me you're kidding!" Lucy all but shrieked into the phone to her mother. It wasn't Mom she was mad at. "He can't stay there! Kevin!" She hollered the last, calling Kevin into the kitchen.

Kevin took the phone and listened to Mom's story, while Lucy paced. Simon could not stay in New York. It wasn't just that he'd been shot—shot—it was everything.

It was Caroline Chandler-Wells.

It was all the stuff she'd been seeing on the news.

It was school and work and—

"Why did you just hang up the phone?" she asked her husband.

"Because your parents are right. Simon is an adult. They can't force him to come home. Your folks are heading back to Glen Oak on Friday."

"They're just giving up?"

"What do you expect them to do?"

"I expect them to bring Simon home where he belongs!"

"Lucy…are you sure it's Simon your mad at?"

She glared at Kevin.

"Okay, are you sure it's just Simon your mad at?"

She huffed out an angry sigh. He was right. She hated it when he was right. She hated it even more that…. "I feel like this is Mary all over again and…and Mary up and moved to Chicago and didn't tell anybody and hasn't called anybody and I'm afraid we're never going to see either of them again!" She collapsed into Kevin's arms.

"New York is a three-hour flight—a little more with a layover. I can ask Ben to drive down from Buffalo the next time he has a couple of days off and check in on Simon if it'll make you feel better."

"You'd do that? He'd do that?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Of course, he would. We can go see Simon too. Anytime you want."

….

Thursday, January 5, 2006, New York

Diana found Fin sitting on the ledge of the roof, staring out over the darkened city. They'd stayed at the hospital until well after dinner, until even after Amy's family had departed for a hotel, until after Cathy had gone home, taking Kyle McCarty with her. Poor guy. The least he deserved out of this was a warm meal and a comfortable bed.

A safe place.

Cathy would move him into her apartment tomorrow or the next day—it would be an easier commute for him than the Tunnels—but for now, he would enjoy the hospitality of the world Below and get an idea of exactly what it was he was protecting with his silence.

"Hey," she said to Fin, as she climbed out onto the roof. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

Fin smiled at her. His smile always made happiness quiver in her stomach, made her feel like a teenager again. "Just thinkin'." He held out his hand she found shelter in his embrace.

"About?" Her building was in Soho, near the Greenwich Village boarder. It wasn't as tall as the buildings in Manhattan, but her loft was on the top floor, and her little patch of roof was private, so she could have Vincent and the children—all of his children (and often several others as well) over to look at the stars.

As to her question, Fin gave one of his shrugs. "You, me. This." His gaze wandered out over the city. "I love you. I don't think I say that often enough."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "You say it in everything you do." She closed her eyes for a long moment. "Elliot will be okay," she said at length. "So will Caroline. So will we all."

"That your gut talkin' or just wishful thinking?"

Diana chuckled softly. "A little bit of both, I think. I want it to be okay. And I know Elliot will be all right because Peter and Joel say he will. I trust that Caroline will be all right because Vincent believes she will. And as everyone is okay, than everything is okay."

He kissed the top of her head. "I like your logic, pretty lady." Then, he changed the subject. "I got a call earlier. They finally arraigned our perp in the case I was workin' before all this hit the fan. And Craigen wants my ass in a sling."

"How bad is it?"

He shrugged. "Huang's been covering for me, which is only pissing the captain off more. George starts flashing that FBI badge around and Craigen really bristles. Truth is, I think he knows there's more goin' on than meets the eye, and I he knows George is part of it."

"It?"

"He's startin' t' get as bad as Munch, talking like he thinks there's some big conspiracy at work. I heard that Logan came t' see him. He was Logan's captain back in the day."

"What did he want?"

"No idea."

She pondered it a while—but in the end, it didn't really matter what Mike Logan thought. "In all fairness to your captain, there is a bit of a conspiracy going on, don't you think?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could call what we got a 'conspiracy'. Or at least a damned big secret."

"Sometimes I feel a little sorry for your partner—besides just the whole having to put up with you part of his job," she teased.

"Very funny."

"I'm serious. Imagine what John would give to know what we do about this city."

Fin laughed again.

John Munch had transferred in from Baltimore Homicide almost five years back. He was a good guy with four failed marriages. Sometimes Diana wondered if the former Mrs. Munches hadn't left as much because of John's endless quest for "the Truth" as much as they'd left him because his first wife, his first true love, would always be the job. That was why Fin's wife had kicked him out, nearly seventeen years ago, now.

It was why Diana had never had any luck with boyfriends sticking around.

John Munch saw a government cover-up around every corner and a conspiracy under every rock. Elvis was alive and well and living in witness protection in Kalamazoo. Kennedy had been shot by the feds. Marilyn, too. Hell, maybe even Jim Morrison was still alive in John's world.

In Fin's world—in Diana's—the restless dead roamed the streets, long after she should have found her rest. Even that bird of hers didn't know why she was still with them.

And below their feet, under concrete and rock, there lay a world of wonders no one would believe, unless they'd seen it themselves.

It was okay to believe in miracles.

And to have faith in what we believe.

"I'm gonna go drop in on Kate for a while. You feel like takin' a drive with me?"

Diana shook her head. "You go. Give her my love."

What Fin shared with Kate was special. It was more than the number of times she'd saved his life. It was all those months he'd been the only person to visit her grave, the only person to leave her flowers.

The only person not to give up on catching her killer.

Gabriel.

Not personally, but it has been at his order because Kate's brother had gotten in over his head and his fourteen-year-old sister had paid the price.

Diana watched Fin pulling away from the curb and let her gaze wander back out over the city, up to the stars. She went to get her telescope.

What would the price be for taking down Gabriel's daughter, she wondered—because everything had a price, large or small. Everything exacted a toll.