Mike picked the plate of pie and ice cream off his lap and held it out. Jeannie, who had been staring at his face with a frown, glanced down at the plate then back up. His eyes flicked towards the tray on the chair and she knew what he wanted. Standing, she put her own plate on the tray then took his and did the same.

He moved over slightly on the bed, giving her more room, and she sat beside him. He raised his right arm and she snuggled in close to him; her heart was pounding.

They sat very still for a long time; she knew he trying to find the right words. Eventually she felt him take a deep breath and she knew he was ready to talk.

He squeezed her a little tighter. "You're right about it not being this case that's been bothering me… although it's been the trigger, so to speak." He took another deep breath. "You know your mother and I got married just after the war, right? In '46. And I was accepted into the police academy at the end of that year, November to be exact. We were both so happy." He turned his head and looked at her with a soft smile. "Did you know we lived with your grandmother, your Mom's mom, just after we got married?"

Jeannie nodded, smiling.

"Your Mom told you, right?" She nodded again. "Well, we wanted to get our own place so we started saving. I wasn't making much at the academy so your Mom got a job at City of Paris in the women's clothing department so we could start saving for a down payment." He stopped, chuckling softly. "But you know all that…" He fell silent for a few seconds.

"It took us a long time to save enough but we did. When I finally graduated and became a cop, we were making a little more money, but I was working shifts, mostly graveyard for those first few years and your Mom was still at the department store… it was hard for us to have a normal life… But your Mom, she wanted a home of our own so while I was at work, she'd scour the newspapers for ads for houses and she'd go out and look at places…" He smiled at the memory and she hugged him a little tighter.

"She found this place, you know," he said proudly, looking up at the ceiling and chuckling, "it wasn't me… Anyway, ah, the day we got the call to –" He paused and took a deep breath. He looked at his daughter and smiled then looked away again. "The day Gus and I answered the call on Turk… when we found Brigitte Larson's body…" He stopped again and took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. He stared straight ahead, not moving for several long seconds before he tilted his head back slightly and she could see him blinking quickly. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench and he swallowed heavily. "The day we found Brigitte Larson's body… your Mom was two months pregnant."

Jeannie froze, her eyes widening, her breath caught in her throat. Unconsciously she tried to swallow but couldn't and she couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in her ears. Her father was staring somewhere in front of him; her eyes were glued to his profile.

Finally she found her voice. "She was pregnant…?" The words were little more than a whisper.

He nodded slowly.

Her fingers were digging into his forearm. "But…?"

Very slowly he turned his head and looked at her. "She miscarried two weeks later…" His tiny smile was heartbreakingly melancholic. "It wasn't because of what happened with the case, nothing like that… it just happened, the doctors said. It just wasn't meant to be, that's all…"

Her face started to crumble and she leaned into him even more, both her hands around his arm. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" Tears started to stream down her cheeks, onto his flannel pajama top. He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.

"I know, honey, I know," he crooned, kissing her hair again, "I know…" He let his head drop back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling, blinking away his own tears.

# # # # #

They had sat side by side in the silence, their arms around each other, until the tears had long since dried up and their hearts had returned to their normal rhythms. Eventually she felt his head turn towards her and he kissed the top of her head again. She pulled away slightly and looked up at him. He was smiling with a warmth that almost stopped her heart.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly and she nodded, not trusting her voice. "Good," he acknowledged, his right arm tightening around her,

"You?" she managed to get out.

He nodded, still beaming. "I'm great."

She raised her right hand and laid it against his face as she lifted herself up to kiss him. Looking into his eyes, she stroked his cheek. "I'm so glad you shaved," she said with gentle chuckle, her eyes dancing, and she felt his right hand move as he started to tickle her. Giggling, she playfully pushed him away as she got to her feet. He watched her, chuckling, fatherly pride so evident in his eyes.

She looked at the chair and froze, her hands on her hips. "I, uh, I think our pie and ice cream is done for…" she said slowly and he followed her gaze.

"Yuck," he said with cartoonish disgust. "I think you're right."

She turned to him with a laugh. "How about I go get us another helping?"

"I think that's a great idea," he agreed with a grin.

She opened the door before picking up the tray and he watched as she stepped out into the hallway. His smile disappeared.

# # # # #

Steve was still sitting at the kitchen table when she reappeared. An empty pie plate and a half-full cup of coffee were on the table in front of him.

He looked up, frowning, as she moved past him to put the tray on the counter. She smiled at him reassuringly as she took the two plates of melted ice cream and soggy pie off the tray and put them in the sink.

"Is everything okay?" he asked hesitantly.

As she opened the cupboard and took out two dessert plates, she glanced over her shoulder, smiling enigmatically. "Everything's just fine." She pulled the apple pie closer and picked up the knife.

Staring at the back of her head, he tried to figure out what she meant. He knew that when his partner used the word 'fine', most of the time things really weren't; but he wasn't sure about Mike's daughter.

She looked over her shoulder. "You want another piece?"

Caught off-guard, he stuttered, "Oh, ah, well, ah…. yeah, sure. Thanks."

"No problem." She opened the top of the fridge and took the tub of ice cream out of the freezer then picked up his used plate, putting the fork on the table.

He watched as she prepared the three plates, not sure if he should pursue the subject any further. In many ways she was a lot like her father; if she wanted him to know what was going on, she would tell him.

She turned from the counter with a big smile, putting his plate on the table in front of him, then picked up the tray and disappeared out the door.

Frowning, he picked up his fork and cut off a piece of pie, barely noticing when he put it in his mouth.

# # # # #

"Okay, so… this is the pile for Don over in Missing Persons, right?" His hand on a thick stack of papers, Mike glanced at the younger man for confirmation. He was sitting on the couch beside his partner; there were piles of papers on every surface in the living room.

Steve glanced up from the yellow legal length pad on his knee, frowning slightly. "Ah, yeah…"

It was the second largest stack in the bunch; only Bunco was getting more.

The older man smiled. "You know," he chuckled, "this is gonna stand us in good stead for a long time… Almost every department is going to owe us and owe us big."

Steve laughed. "I hadn't thought of that, Lieutenant… well done."

"Oh, don't thank me," Mike shot back, a tinge of gravity in his voice, "thank Stanley Kovalev… He puts the con in conscience…" Keeping a straight face, he made a show of looking at the pile of papers on the arm of the sofa beside him.

Steve had done a double take and was now staring at his partner's profile, his mouth open. "What?" he asked, sounding overwhelmingly confused.

A smirk tugged at his partner's lips. "You heard me… I said he puts the con in –"

"Conscience… yeah, I heard you." He shook his head and snorted softly. "You're certifiably insane, you know that, right?"

Mike looked at him and smiled enigmatically. "One man's insanity is another man's genius…"

Steve stared at him with a closed mouth grin, his eyebrows raised, nodding knowingly. "Really?... You, ah, you come up with that on your own?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." The older man laughed suddenly and slapped his partner's knee. "We better get back to work, I think Jeannie wants her living room back."

Both of them chuckling softly, Steve pulled one of the empty boxes closer and they began to fill it. A companionable silence filled the room as they went about their respective tasks. Several minutes later the phone rang. Mike, who was closer, had to drop the file folders in his right hand in order to pick up the receiver, growling in mild frustration the entire time.

"Hello?"

Steve watched as his partner listened, offering the occasional single syllable confirmation, his demeanor getting progressively darker.

"Yeah, thanks, Rudy, I appreciate it." He hung up the receiver then just stood there, staring into space for several long seconds.

"Anything wrong?" Steve asked softly and he saw the older man start slightly, as if he was suddenly reminded that he wasn't alone.

Mike turned to him, frowning. "Oh, ah, no…" He smiled to himself, looking down and shaking his head slightly. "Ah, that was Rudy. They have the Lonsdales in custody here now, and they've asked us for all the stuff we put together over the past couple of weeks." He looked up and met the younger man's eyes. "He's gonna send Bill around later today after I give him a call to come get it… But, ah, but there's not going to be a trial, at least not for Jeffrey Lonsdale…" He shrugged.

Steve frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

Mike raised his right hand and smiled, shaking his head. "No, no, nothing like that," he assured quickly, knowing the thoughts that were going through his partner's mind. "No, ah, he pled guilty at his arraignment this morning…"

"He did what?"

Mike tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "He pled guilty… to everything. The kidnapping, the murder, the flights from prosecution," he shrugged and snorted, "both of them… even to stealing my gun – which they found in his parents house, by the way. They delivered it with the parents this morning. Rudy has it." He shrugged again, like he was at a loss for words.

Steve had slumped back on the couch, staring unfocused in front of him. He was just as stunned as his partner. "Did Rudy say why?"

Mike shook his head slowly. "No… nobody knows right now, he said… but he thinks Gerry might have made him an offer… you know, maybe take the death penalty off the table…?" He shrugged again.

After a silent second, Steve sighed loudly. "I was not expecting that."

Mike snorted dryly, still staring into space. "I don't think anybody was…" Suddenly he started, straightening up briefly before bending to open the drawer in the small table under the phone. He took a small piece of paper out, laid it on the table, then picked up the receiver, stuffing it between his ear and shoulder so he could dial.

Steve watched with a slight frown.

Mike straightened up, listening. "Yeah, Jerry?... Yeah, it's Mike… Yeah, I know, but a lot of things happened I have to tall you about. Listen, ah, are you free tomorrow?"