AN: Hi kids. Once again, I just want to let it be known how much I appreciate the very kind reviews you all have sent me, and all suggestions etc., which have been offered. I am truly flattered.

You're all allowed to kick my butt for how long it's taken me to update. Writer's block sucks.

Please review. Make me happy. The more you review, the more I write, and if you like it and want updates, that way we all win. Yay!

Disclaimer: Hail Dick, full of wisdom, the Lord has blest thee…

Rating: PG-13 for a use of the f word, and sensitive subject matter.

Spoilers: Still the same. Mike's family background and childhood circumstances, along with some mentions of background info about Alex and Bobby

Dedication: For 'The Confused One' for all the support and encouragement.


Office of Mariette Henderson

Wednesday, July 12th, 3:00 PM

Mariette smiled at Mike Logan as he walked through her office door.

"Mike," Mariette said, "Thanks for coming at such short notice. Have a seat."

Mike did his best to smile at the women, but the only emotion he felt at the current moment was panic from wondering what had gone wrong. He had filed the application, delivered it to her personally, done his best in every way…

"Okay," Mariette said, "I don't want you to worry, Mike. Some things came up while I read your application and I felt it necessary to schedule this interview with you. No reason to panic, okay? Firstly…schooling. You listed 'various possibilities'. Care to elaborate?"

"I'd like to enroll her in private school," Mike said, "I have some savings set aside which I figured I could use for tuition, so I'm looking through various prep schools."

Mike had almost laughed at the irony when he found himself searching private schools in his area. Private Catholic schools, he had noted, were the ones with lower tuition rates.

"Your…family background, Mike," Mariette said softly, "I won't lie to you. It's iffy. With a family history of alcoholism and violence…generally, that's a red flag, but I'd like to hear what you have to say about it."

Mike sighed, closed his eyes, counted to ten. The past was the past. This was now. He was safe, there was a child who wasn't, and if it meant going outside of his comfort levels to protect her, so be it.

"It is true that both my parents were alcoholics, and that my mother…beat me growing up." Mike said softly, his voice remaining calm, "However, I am not an alcoholic. I do on occasion have a couple drinks, but drinking has never been a problem for me. I do have a history of getting in fights as a child, and I do have several police brutality complaints on my file. While most of them were dismissed, I think it's necessary to point out that it was all done to suspects or perpetrators, or people who tried to stop the police from stopping criminals. People who harmed other people. I have never done violence to a child since I was more than one myself, and I certainly have no intentions of starting now."

Mariette nodded, the answer satisfying her. The truth was, she doubted that she would be able to find someone who would- and could- care for Rebecca as Mike could. For one, Rebecca already had begun a process of trust with Mike, and for another, the references he had listed were impeccable, all saying the same thing: that they had complete confidence in Mike's ability to raise a child.

"You listed agnostic as your religious affiliation," Mariette said, flipping through the application, "Are you aware that Rebecca is Catholic?"

"I am. I have no problem with it. I've known many great people who were and are devout Catholics, including Carolyn, who," Mike said, with a small chuckle, "I'm sure would be more than happy to get Rebecca involved within the Church."

Mariette smiled. Another plus for him. He had already begun to think of the needs she might have that he couldn't fulfill.

"Suppose you do become her foster parent," Mariette said, "Do you have any idea as to how you will help her overcome the inevitable trauma that has occurred from all she had gone through?"

Mike forced back the smirk he felt coming on. Did he have any ideas after not being able to force himself to think of something else for the last two days?

"Yes," He said, keeping his voice respectful, knowing that Mariette was only looking out for things that would be important for Rebecca, "I called Elizabeth Olivet…the psychologist I listed as a reference, who has agreed to meet with Rebecca at a minimum of once a week. I also spoke to my Captain, who has agreed to give me two weeks leave if I am approved, so I can for that time frame, devote myself to helping her full-time, and after that, I will still continue to do so to the fullest extent that I can."

Mariette simply stared for a moment. This man was either too good to be true, or well trained in giving people the answers they wanted.

"Rebecca's fifteen. She is old enough to be on her own during the day, but suppose you get called into work at night. Do you have arrangements with someone to stay with her?"

"I'll admit that I hadn't though of that yet," Mike said, "But, I would probably leave her with Marie Jackson, a women who lives next door to me. Rebecca already knows and likes her, and if Marie was unable to take her, I guess I would just take her with me, since we do have sleeping accommodations at the precinct."

It was Mariette's turn to force back the smirk. Her earlier suspicions had been confirmed…

"Just one more question. If you are indeed entrusted with what can be an incredibly overwhelming task…how do you plan to get guidance or support for yourself?"

"In addition to promising me however many sessions a week she felt Rebecca may need, Elizabeth also asked me to take weekly sessions, which I agreed to."

Mariette sat back in her chair, studying Mike for a moment. From the moment the middle-aged social worker had looked at Rebecca Andrews, she had known that, however many battered children she had worked with…this girl was another story. Mariette did not want to let Rebecca face the horrors of group homes. Rooms filled with cots. A chance of her having bad foster parents.

"I made several calls today myself, Mike." Mariette said to the man sitting across from her, "One of which was to Dr. Netza, who, as I'm sure you know, is Rebecca's doctor. He told me that he'd release her tomorrow morning, at which time either her foster guardian or myself were to come get her."

"In other words?" Mike said, feeling slightly ill.

"In other words, Mike," Mariette said, leaning towards him, "Be at Saint Mark's by ten tomorrow morning to pick up your foster daughter."


Wednesday, July 12th, 6:01

She'd been sitting at her desk this time when the call came to her cell phone, around three-twenty, she was guessing. This time, there wasn't fear, panic, or frustration in his voice. This time, it was joy, as he spoke three words which she knew would change both their lives. Three words which had given her a sense of renewed hope; of faith that good things still happened in a world that had so much evil.

"I've been approved."

Carolyn found herself smiling at the obvious joy in his voice; honestly unable to remember if she had ever seen or heard Mike the way he'd been over the last few days. It was definitely a side of him that she'd never seen except for the odd moment spent questioning either witnesses or victims. For the most part in their partnership, it was her job to be compassionate, his job to be a combination of tough, intimidating and…at times, downright mean.

And although she had to admit that his attempts at being a tough-guy were cute to her, she loved seeing this side of Mike Logan. The tough-guy was cute. But his softer side…that was the part of him that drew her to him. The repressed, rarely brought out, yet nevertheless present side of Mike Logan that supported the victims; protected the citizens of New York.

"Mike, that's so great," She had responded, smiling.

And she had meant it. It was great- for Rebecca, and for him.

She'd frozen for a brief moment when he asked her to come over once she was done at work. She'd told him she'd do her best. Here she was, parked outside his apartment. With butterflies in her stomach.

"You idiot," She muttered to herself, "This is so ridiculous. You don't get butterflies."

Besides, he was her partner. Even if she could find herself liking a man like Mike Logan…he was her partner.

With that thought in her head, she walked to his building, waited for him to buzz her in, then strode through the door of his apartment,

"Hey, Care!" Mike said, greeting her as she walked in.

"Hey, Mikey." Carolyn responded, using the nickname that she knew he despised being called. The one only she was allowed to call him.

He would deck anyone other than her that dared call him that; it was just a fact. However, when it came to her, he merely raised an eyebrow before turning and walking towards his kitchen.

"You're not turning into Goren on me, are ya?" Carolyn called, smirking when Mike looked back at her in horror, "Oh, good."

"You'd rather have the ticking time bomb than the human polygraph?" Mike said, opening his fridge, "You're one of a kind, Barek. Want something to drink?"

Carolyn shook her head, sitting across from him at the table.

"So, did you talk to Rebecca?" She asked, the two of them sharing a smile as Mike nodded, "What did she have to say?"

"She smiled." Mike said, an emotion that Carolyn couldn't identify rising in his eyes, "For the first time since I've been around her…she smiled."

Mike had spent the last few days at Rebecca's bedside, holding her hand, coaxing her to eat, and reassuring her when she had nightmares. He'd waited, hoped for, almost prayed for any sign that she was beginning to trust him. And they had come, slowly. She didn't flinch when he took her hand, and her anxiety attacks were fewer when he was there with her. Still, he hadn't been sure.

And then that sign had been given to him. A quick, true flash of joy in his foster daughter's eyes when he'd asked her if she'd like to live with him. The smile that had spread across her features when she said yes.

He'd been so scared for her over the time she'd been in the hospital; been scared when he'd glance at her sunken stomach as she'd say over and over that she wasn't hungry. He'd felt fear fill him when Bobby and Alex had filed out of her room, both looking older then he'd ever seen them, the slightest trace of tears in Alex's eyes. He'd been afraid as he'd held her after she woke up from nightmare after nightmare; been fearful himself as he softly reassured her through frequently occurring panic attacks.

But, when that smile had spread across her face, for the first time, Mike wasn't afraid for her. Tonight, he wasn't afraid. He knew he'd gotten himself into something that wouldn't be easy. But, tonight, for the first time, Mike Logan had complete faith that Rebecca would recover. Her sunken stomach would fill out in time, the bruises that covered her both physically and psychologically would go away in time.

It would all be okay. She would be okay.

Looking at Carolyn, Mike saw the same joy he felt reflecting in her eyes, and then, before either of the two could totally comprehend what was happening, they found themselves standing in a tight embrace in the middle of Mike's kitchen.

"I'm so happy for you…for her…" Carolyn whispered, joyful tears welling in her eyes, feeling every word coming from her soul, "You're going to be a wonderful foster father, Mike."

"Thanks for everything, Caro." Mike said back, holding her tighter for a brief moment before he let her go, then deciding to change the subject, "Did you eat yet?"

Carolyn shook her head.

"Why don't you look through the takeout menus? They're on top of the fridge. Just take your pick. I need to clean the spare bedroom…"

Carolyn smiled at him as he walked towards the room that would be Rebecca's. Then, she walked to the fridge, her eyes widening when she saw the huge stack of paper on the fridge.

"Shit, Logan, do you have takeout information on every damn restaurant in Manhattan!" Carolyn called out, her voice taking on a humorous sort of note.

"Hey, that's not fair," Mike called back indignantly, "I cook…sometimes."

"Neighbors probably begged you to stop," Carolyn muttered, searching through the leaflets, "How's Mexican sound to you?"

"Perfecto!" Mike called back. "Want me to call it in?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes lightly.

"I'm a woman, Logan, not an invalid. I can call. What do you want?"


Marcello's Bar and Grill

Wednesday, July 12th, 7:15 PM

Manhattan, New York

Alex looked blankly across the table at Bobby, who was decidedly avoiding her gaze. She could honestly say that Bobby Goren was a close friend, but God…there were times when she didn't understand him.

"Tough one." She said quietly, hoping he'd open up.

"Yeah," Bobby said, still avoiding her gaze.

She hated it when he did that. With everyone else…he'd get in their faces, never look away, stare, practically fucking penetrate people with his gaze. Yet at times, he wouldn't even look at her.

"Bobby." Alex said softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked at her, "We've been partners for five years. Don't you know by now that you're allowed to open up to me?"

Bobby looked down, a single eyebrow arched, clearly deep in thought.

"It's just…ugh…drug addiction…alcoholism…schizophrenia…they're all diseases. And her father…well…"

"You were only a little younger." Alex prodded gently.

"Yeah." Bobby said, "This…this one hit hard."

Alex watched as some of the tension slowly drained from his shoulders.

"What about you?" Bobby said softly, "I know there were some problems with…who was it? Your aunt that was an alcoholic?"

Alex swallowed the lump in her throat, hating how he always understood; how he always knew.

"It definitely brought up some stuff I'd rather forget," She said softly, "But…you know…my aunt never took a cigarette and burned me. She was never 'Madame'. She didn't make me do things so she could get another drink."

With that, Alex downed the shot that was in front of her, forced it back before tears could come to her eyes, but knowing that it was pointless, since already they were there.

"It hurts more than anything to think of what she's going through," Alex said softly, "More than any of the memories I've known…it hurts to realize that an innocent, defenseless…little girl…has gone through all that."

Bobby reached out for her hand, and for that moment, Alex gave in to his understanding look; his attempts at comfort.

"Alex," Bobby said, "Mike has her now. She'll never have to live in fear of beatings or rape…ever again. We got her in time, Alex. Mike got her, we'll get her justice. Mike will help her through this. So will Carolyn. So will we."

Alex nodded, quickly wiping away the tears.

"You're right, Bobby." She said, squeezing his hand tighter, "You're right. Now, let's get out of here before I take another shot of liquor and you have to drag me out."


Saint Mark's Hospital

Thursday, July 13th, 9:50 AM

"Hey, Becky." Mike said, his low voice at a reassuring pitch as he gently patted her shoulder, then smiled at Mariette, "Hi, Ms. Henderson."

"Mariette," She corrected, standing, and then looking down at Rebecca, who was sitting on the side of her hospital bed, "Are you ready to go, my dear?"

When Rebecca nodded, Mariette patted her hand, her smile reassuring.

"I'll drop by to see how you're doing in a couple days."

"Thanks," Rebecca said softly, her eyes downcast, "I know you've gone above and beyond with this."

"You don't have to thank me, sweetie," Mariette replied, "But, you're welcome, just the same."

As Mariette left the room, Mike looked at Rebecca. The sweater, despite its small size, still appeared huge on her, emphasizing even more how thin she was. It covered her arms; covered the cigarette burns, the cuts, most of the bruises. The ones on her face were fading slowly.

He only wondered how long it would be, if ever, before the cuts; the bruises left on her soul could mend.

"Let's go home." He said tenderly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.