The top of the black leather bag was being twisted like a pretzel as Jeannie waited anxiously in the gallery of the small arraignment courtroom. She kept staring at the grey-haired, bespectacled judge behind the bench, trying to figure out how strict or lenient he was going to be. So far he seemed fair, and slightly liberal, in his decisions on whether to allow bail to the defendants who were being paraded before him that morning. But then again, none of them had been accused of kidnapping, murder and attempted murder.

She was thrilled that the press had been barred from the courtroom; she had had to run a gauntlet of them getting into the building. Luckily no one seemed to know who she was, for the moment, and she passed through them without incident.

The door behind her, the one from the hallway, opened and ADA Gerry O'Brien, looking grim, strode down the centre aisle and into the well, laying his briefcase on the wooden table to the right. On the left side of the courtroom, the door opened and Philip Baxter preceded a bailiff, leading a shirt-sleeved and handcuffed Steve Keller into the well and over to the table on the left.

As the court clerk approached the judge with the requisite paperwork, announcing the file number of the case, Steve's name and the charges against him, Jeannie couldn't take her eyes off her father's partner. His entire demeanour looked defeated, his shoulders hunched, his head down, staring at the floor. Tears sprung to her eyes and she bit her lower lip, trying not to whimper.

She jumped when she felt a hand drop lightly onto her shoulder, spinning to look into the soft, empathetic eyes of Rudy Olsen. He smiled in apology as he sat on the seat beside her. "Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to scare you."

She smiled wanly and nodded before looking back at Steve and his lawyer. "I'm glad you're here," she said softly.

"Not just me," Olsen chuckled quietly and nodded over his shoulder when she looked at him again. She turned in the seat. Roy Devitt, Dan Healey and Norm Haseejian were standing against the back wall, all three of them making eye contact and smiling reassuringly. Heartened, she faced the courtroom again, allowing a soft smile to curl her lips.

The charges read, the judge looked over his reading glasses at Steve and Baxter. "How does the defendant plead?"

Steve slowly raised his head and cleared his throat. "Not guilty, your honor."

"We would like the court to consider bail, your honor. Even though the charges are indeed very serious, Inspector Keller is a well-respected member of the police department and is not considered a flight risk. He will surrender his passport."

"The charges don't get much more serious than this, Mr. Baxter," the judge intoned flatly, his eyes boring into the defence attorney's before snapping to the ADA.

"Mr. O'Brien?"

The Assistant District Attorney looked across the well at Steve and hesitated; Jeannie and every cop in the room held their breath. Then he faced the judge again. "The court has no objection, your honour."

There was a collective sigh in the small courtroom and Jeannie reached out to take Olsen's hand, squeezing so hard the older man winced slightly.

With a brief, almost surprised facial shrug, the judge looked at the accused again, picking up the gavel. "Very well, bail to be set at two hundred thousand dollars." He banged the gavel against the block.

There were a couple of gasps. Steve looked at Baxter with a mixture of relief and worry and they exchanged a few words before the bailiff took Steve's elbow and started to lead him back towards the door they had just entered. Jeannie's eyes followed until he disappeared behind the closed door. The court clerk was already announcing the next case when Baxter pushed his way through the gate and started up the aisle towards the gallery door.

Jeannie got to her feet, pushing her way past a still sitting Olsen, and caught up to the lawyer near the door. "Mr. Baxter!" she called sotto voce and the lawyer stopped and turned to her, frowning. "Mr. Baxter, I need to talk to you."

His eyes darting around the courtroom, knowing conversation wasn't allowed when defendants were being arraigned, he beckoned her into the corridor. Olsen and the others followed at a respectful distance.

"Mr. Baxter, I'm Jeannie Stone, Mike Stone's daughter," she said quickly when they stopped against the far wall in the busy corridor.

His eyebrows rose and he smiled. "Steve's partner, yes, of course. What can I do for you, Miss Stone?"

Nodding, she opened the black bag and reached into it, removing a long white envelope. She held it out to him. Frowning, his eyes on her, he took the envelope and opened it slowly, his head snapping back when he realized it was a blank, but signed, personal cheque. "It's for Steve's bail. Just… just fill out the amount it needs to be. Twenty thousand, right?"

Baxter, still staring at the piece of paper in his hand, nodded slowly. "That's right." He had seen the name and address in the top left hand corner of the cheque.

With a soft smile, she shrugged. "It'll clear… I guarantee it."

Baxter, shaking his head slightly, started to put the check back in the envelope. "Yes, I'm sure it will." He smiled. "Thank you. I'll, ah, I'll start the bail proceedings right away." He nodded again then, still smiling, headed off down the corridor at a clip.

Jeannie was watching him go, still smiling, when she felt a presence behind her and turned to see the four detectives staring at her in curiosity. It was Olsen who spoke first. "Did you just give Baxter a cheque?"

"Umh-humh," she confirmed, nodding. "For Steve's bail." They all knew how much that was going to be. She smiled proudly, tearing up. "Mike mortgaged the house…"

# # # # #

Jeannie closed the oven door, putting the oven mitts on the counter then wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist and glancing at the wall clock again. It was getting close to six.

With a perturbed frown, she looked at the kitchen table once more; everything was ready. Unconsciously rubbing her hands together, she walked into the living room, crossing to the large, and new, front window. There was nobody on the street and no sign of activity. She pursed her lips and growled to herself; they were supposed to be here by now.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and a forest green Galaxie cruised into view, pulling up to the curb in front of the house. She smiled. Both front doors and the passenger side back door opened; Steve, Healey and Haseejian got out, the Armenian sergeant leaning into the back seat to pull out a small suitcase before closing the door.

Steve, wearing a jacket over his open-necked shirt, looked up at the house as he took the suitcase from Haseejian. Jeannie had backed away from the window enough so he couldn't see her but she could still see them.

The detectives talked for about a minute, then Steve shook their hands and turned to start slowly up the steep concrete steps. She hurried into the kitchen, untying the apron on the way, tossed it on the counter then waited for the doorbell to ring.

It seemed to take forever. She realized how hard this was going to be for him, and she pictured him standing on the landing, hesitating before pressing the bell, not sure what he was going to say to her. He was allowed to go home while out on bail, but it was discouraged; the press had already staked out the apartment on the short street overlooking the Bay and his neighbours were angry about this infringement on their privacy. And as the fifth estate had yet to cotton on, it seemed, to Mike's role in the disgraced detective's life, the De Haro Street house was the next logical choice.

So it had been agreed that he would stay with the Stones for the foreseeable future. The location, on Potrero Hill, and the steep access to the house was a deterrent as well. It would be so much easier if Mike was here though, she knew; she would try her best to try to replace her father in some small way if she could until he was well enough to come home.

The doorbell rang. Nervously running her hands on her hips, she headed to the door. He smiled sadly at her as it opened; she beamed as she took a step back so he could enter. "Steve… I'm go glad they let you out."

Snorting softly, he stepped into the warm and softly lit living room, putting the suitcase on the floor near the staircase. "Yeah," he breathed, turning to her with such a look of guilt that she caught her breath. "Jeannie, I didn't want Mike to do this, you've got to believe me. I would never -"

"Steve," she said softly but firmly, cutting him off, "it was all Mike's idea, believe me, and he wanted to do it. He wants to do more, believe me, but he doesn't know what else he can do… at least right now." She smiled with a gentle chuckle. "Besides, he's not worried. He knows you're not going to skip bail so his money is safe."

His smile was sad, guilty and loving all at the same time and her heart almost broke. Suddenly uncomfortable, she glanced at the suitcase. "Ah, listen," she said quickly, gesturing up the stairs, "why don't you bring that up to Mike's room and I'll get dinner on the table." She chuckled. "You timed it perfectly, you know. Norm said they'd have you here by around six." She grinned at him. "I hope you're hungry. I made lasagna."

He snorted softly but happily and nodded.

She frowned suddenly. "You are hungry, I hope."

"I'm starved. The jail food isn't, ah, well, let's just say it could use some work…"

Jeannie laughed. "Good. Well, not good maybe, I'm just glad you're hungry. I made a lot." She headed towards the kitchen and he picked up the suitcase and started up the stairs. "You want a beer? Mike has lots."

"Sure," he called back as he continued slowly up to the second floor.

# # # # #

He opened his eyes onto a room lit by sunlight seeping in around the edges of the blackout curtains, surprised that he had slept so long and so deeply. It took a couple of seconds to remember where he was, the realization prompting a melancholic wave to briefly wash over him. The last time he had slept overnight in this house he and his partner were celebrating the successful end to a case that had shaken The City to its core; this time was so very different.

He turned his head to look at the clock/radio on the bedside table. 9:53. He started, sitting up quickly as he tore the blankets away and dropped his feet to the carpet. Jeannie had promised to drive him to the hospital for 9, when visiting hours started. He hadn't seen Mike since that horrific night in the garage.

He was shaved, showered, dressed and racing down the stairs to the first floor in record time. Jeannie was in the kitchen, calmly pouring him a cup of coffee. He slammed to a stop at the kitchen entrance, breathing heavily. "I'm so sorry, I slept in. But I'm ready to go," he said quickly.

She smiled at him enigmatically. "We're not going," she said simply, raising her eyebrows.

His face fell. "We're not going? Why not…?" He sounded both disappointed and worried.

She took a deep breath, releasing it heavily, as if trying to control herself. "Well, because my father managed to talk his doctor into releasing him this morning. Dan and Norm are at the hospital picking him up."