It's Five O'clock Somewhere

by Musical Redhead

In a battle of wills, does there have to be a loser? The good detective has to decide. He and the reporter are at the top of their games, though they aren't very perceptive. Mystery #4, Final.

7. Loving the Alien

Title: It's Five O'clock Somewhere

Chapter 7: Loving the Alien

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I finally made it to the finish line. I've dreamed of this day. Once again, I'm sorry it took so long to get this whole thing out. Thank you to everyone who followed these stories, and took the time to drop a line. I posted an author note on my LJ (link is on my profile). If anyone has questions for me, I will answer them in an LJ post this weekend. If it's past the weekend and you still have a question, just ask in the comments section of the Q&A post. Here's the conclusion of the series.

"It is much easier to become a father than to be one." –Kent Nerburn, Letters to My Son: Reflections on Becoming a Man

Loving the Alien

"Rory, you'll never guess what happened," Kyle said eagerly as he came over to her desk first thing in the morning. He pulled the empty chair from the desk next to hers closer to sit down. "I went back to Madam Atlantica last night, and she read some tea leaves and looked at the lines on my palm."

"Do you have a long life ahead of you?" Rory asked. She sat down the cup of decaf coffee she had been trying to drink.

"Oh yeah, and I'm going to meet a girl soon, she saw it right there on my hand," he said, pointing to one of the lines on his hand. "But right before I left, I asked her if she knew where I could get some cocaine, and—"

"Cocaine?" Rory asked, alarmed. "Kyle."

"No, no, it's okay. I already went to the police."

"You mean she had some?"

He nodded, his eyes wide. "She's definitely a seller. I bought some from her and went straight to the precinct to tell DuGrey where I got it, but he wasn't there. So I talked to his partner," Kyle said. "He was pretty surprised by what I found, but he made a call. I think it was to the narcotics unit. Do you think they're going to do a sting?"

Rory stared. "I have no idea. I can't believe this."

"I know. I can't believe I helped fight crime." He was smiling cheekily. "Let's find out what happened to that stolen car today, while I'm on a roll."

It was tedious work, tracking down all the car dealership suppliers on his list, but it was at least made easier by dividing the work between the two of them. It was after lunch when Rory glanced at the time. "Shoot, I wanted to go to court again this afternoon before the city hall meeting."

"I'll go to a few of these places while you're gone," Kyle said, gesturing to their list. "We'll regroup when we both get back."

Rory nodded her agreement and started to get ready to go out. But before she could button her coat, James came over and rapped her desk with his knuckles. "Hey, there's an editor's meeting in a few minutes, I want you to come with me—since you were me this week."

"But I was just getting ready to go to court for a while," she complained. After Tristan's sullen mood and silence the night before, her concern for him had grown. She wanted to be there for him.

"Sorry to keep you at your job during the work day," James said dryly.

Kyle said, "I wanted to work on this, but it can wait. I'll go to court in your place again, just for this afternoon—since you trust and respect me so much more than anyone else in the newsroom, maybe more than anyone else in New York."

"Don't push it."

"There you go, you're covered," James said to Rory. "So let's go."

Rory took her coat back off and pulled a notebook out of her desk instead. She followed her editor to the conference room, where the editors from the other sections were congregating. It was when they were filing out an hour and a half later that Rory's phone buzzed in her pocket. When she saw Kyle's name on the screen, calling rather than texting, she quietly stepped out of the way to answer in the hall. "Hello? What is it?"

"Hey, good, I got you," Kyle started. "Uh, so things got kind of heated in court today, and the suits got thrown into a cell in the basement."

"What? The suits—as in Tristan? What happened? Who's in a cell?" Rory asked with a deep frown. She quickly headed toward her desk to grab her coat and scarf.

"Tristan and his dad. The judge threw both of them out."

"I'm heading down now," she said, ending the call.

When the taxi let her out downtown, Rory hurried up the courthouse steps and through the doors, searching for Kyle. He was sitting on a bench outside the courtroom in the lobby and got up to meet her.

"Where are they? What happened, specifically?" she asked again, following as Kyle led her to the steps that would take them down.

"Well, it was all business as usual at first, just legalese stuff when they started, but then it got kind of personal. When one of them yelled out 'you're a narcissistic jerk', the judge found both of them in contempt and had them removed. If they can't act civilized, he's going to call it a mistrial."

"Oh my god," Rory said as they walked along the hallway and down a set of stairs. "Which one of them yelled the narcissistic jerk part?"

Kyle glanced at her uneasily. "Uh, Mr. DuGrey."

Obviously. "Which one?"

"I can't be sure."

"So it was Tristan."

"Yeah."

They turned into a dingy room that was lined with small cells. Rory took a sharp intake of breath at the sight. Father and son were contained in a jail cell—the same jail cell. They were occupying different ends of the long bench that was against the back wall. Tristan was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

Rory turned wide eyes to him. "What happened?"

He turned his head toward her in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked pointedly, gesturing at the cell. "I heard you got thrown in jail so I came down."

"It isn't real jail." Tristan shot her colleague a rueful look. "Thanks Kyle."

"Don't blame Kyle, you're the one in a jail cell in the basement of the courthouse. Now why are you in there?"

Tristan settled back to his previous position of staring at the ceiling and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ask him."

He didn't indicate who 'him' was, but Rory could guess it was Harrison. "I asked you."

Tristan was silent for a minute before he finally said, "He tricked me into taking a case."

Rory's eyes darted over to her father-in-law again and then back to Tristan. "How exactly did he do that?"

Before Tristan could answer, Harrison spoke, "Oh, I can't take credit for that." He continued, "Tristan, being hard-headed as he is, knows as well as I do that he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do." While the statement was true, it was somewhat sardonic.

Tristan just scowled in response.

"Although," Harrison admitted, "I did light a small fire under him. But in my defense, he makes it very easy."

Rory asked, "What does that mean?"

"If I want him to zig, he'll zag. He's so predictable, it's boring."

His son argued, "I am not boring."

"Please."

Tristan turned to Rory again and pointed at his dad. "He's still trying to control me. He just added mind games to his bag of tricks."

"Okay, just so you know," Rory said, "you're going to have to pay Mom royalties if you start calling him the master manipulator. She has that term trademarked."

"Well, the boot fits."

"I think I'm still missing some of the details," she said,.

"He baited me." Tristan reluctantly said, "He told me I'm only good at being a detective."

"I did not," Harrison said.

"You strongly implied it."

"And you couldn't wait to prove me wrong." Harrison reiterated, "Predictable."

Rory asked Tristan, "Does the two point six mill in your desk drawer have something to do with this?"

He flinched, guilty.

Kyle's eyes grew wide, looking from Rory to Tristan. He mouthed, "Wow."

"I don't have two million dollars in my drawer," Tristan argued. Then he muttered, "It's just access to two million dollars." He frowned at Rory. "What were you doing in my desk?"

"Looking for pens. You always steal my pens, so I was just looking in a plausible place that you would store pens—and other office supplies," she rambled. "And when checking your drawers, I stumbled on the papers, as well as the pens."

"The papers weren't sitting at the top of the drawer."

"I had a search warrant!" Her heart beat too fast at being caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Search warrant?" He narrowed his eyes and made a sound of disgust. "Jacobs."

"Yes," she admitted, "Jacobs. He told me to look around after I said you had principles. I didn't know what I was looking for."

"I do have principles."

"No, you have a hard head," she argued. "There's a difference."

From the other end of the bench, Harrison said, "Ding ding ding. We have a consensus."

Tristan glowered rather than look at his father when he addressed the man, "I don't want your money."

"It isn't mine, it's yours," Harrison said. "I don't want it either."

Kyle raised his hand. "I'll take it, if no one else wants it." He put his hand down when Rory frowned at him.

"I guess you're happy," Tristan said to his father. "You already knew I couldn't do it. Now you get to be right. Turns out I can't do it."

Rory asked, "What do you mean you can't do it? What can't you do?"

Tristan glanced at his wife and then averted his gaze. "The case, I can't win it." He nodded over to the older man. "His private investigator found some compelling evidence that his client isn't guilty."

"What's the evidence?" she asked.

He looked up at her, slightly exasperated. "Does it matter? That's not really the point here. The point is I'm going to lose."

Harrison scowled at the younger man. "It's your first time out and I've had a lot more practice. You were doing fine before that last bit of evidence came up."

"It doesn't matter." Tristan grumbled, "That takes care of that decision for me."

Rory frowned at him. "What decision?"

He lifted his gaze to her. "I figured out a way to decide which career to do full time—100%, like the captain said. If I won the case, I'd give prosecuting a try, and if I lose, I guess I don't really belong on this side of the witness stand."

Rory and Harrison both glared at him. "That's dumb."

Tristan glanced from one to the other, surprised by their simultaneous response.

His father asked, "Did you really think you'd be the triumphant hero in the end, without any experience? And I'm the narcissist?"

Kyle tilted his head toward Tristan. "I did. I always believed in you."

While frowning at her husband's logic, Rory suddenly gasped.

"What?" Tristan asked.

"Mom was right, you can decide with a coin toss. This is your coin toss."

Tristan argued, "I thought you said that isn't a way to decide something like this."

"I know, but Mom said people who aren't me know what they want, and flipping a coin can tell you what that is," she said. "You wanted heads and you're disappointed it landed on tails. So pick tails. It's what you want to do, or you wouldn't be sulking about it."

Creases formed at his forehead. "What?"

She didn't get to explain before they were interrupted by another person joining their cell block party. "Oh my," a female voice near the door said. "They really do have jail cells down here." Her eyes roamed around the room before she stepped in.

Everyone looked over to see a tall woman with long blonde hair join the group. She had on a khaki trench coat, but was now void of the scarf she had been wearing in the courtroom.

The only one surprised to see her was her son. "Mom?" Tristan said, brows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

She walked over to the cell and gripped the bars, peering in at her ex-husband. "I came to watch the trial."

"You came to see me?" he asked, perplexed.

"Uh, yes. I came to see you." She glanced over at him, but stayed where she was. As Tristan mulled this over for a moment, Eileen smirked at her ex-husband and commented, "This is a good look for you, Harry."

Harrison lifted a brow but didn't say anything.

Rory nervously watched the exchange and quickly checked on Tristan, who also watched. Slowly, he addressed his mother, "I saw you in the courtroom the other day, but you were on his side. Why weren't you sitting on my side?"

Uh-oh, Rory thought, panic setting in. Eileen looked over at him hesitantly and didn't respond. Tristan's eyes went from his mother to his father and back again, no one willing to provide an explanation.

"Uh, sidebar?" Rory said, taking a couple steps farther down the cell and gesturing for Tristan to get up to join her. He obliged and got up from the bench. She whispered, "So, you know how it's rumored that you're dad has been having an affair?"

"Yes, and how it isn't just rumor, nor a surprising truth?"

"Yeah, that. Well, I think . . ." she trailed off, trying to discreetly point a finger at Eileen.

He looked over at her, then frowned back at his wife. "What?"

She gave him a pointed look and tilted her head toward his mother.

When he glanced back at his mother, he did a double take. She was ogling Harrison, with a disturbing twinkle in her eye. "Why are you looking at Dad like that? Like you want to—." He looked back to Rory quickly. "Those two?"

"I think maybe."

He shook his head adamantly. "No. No, they hate each other. They shouldn't be allowed in the same state. I'm not even sure how this courthouse is still standing with them both in it at the same time. New York should be imploding right now. We should all be in a bomb shelter."

"I know, you've told me that, but—"

"No buts."

"I'm pretty sure."

Tristan turned to his parents with a heavy scowl. "Are you two having an affair? With each other?"

Rory turned to Kyle, who had silently been taking it all in. "Hey, why don't you go on back to the newsroom? I've got it here, and you can visit those car dealerships on your list."

Kyle shook his head with wide eyes. "I can't leave now. Things are getting really good here. It's my duty as a newsman to stay and see things through."

"Calm down," Harrison told Tristan. "What your mother and I do is none of your business."

Incredulous, he asked, "What you and she are doing?"

Rory said, "I don't think you want to know the answer to that one."

Tristan was starting to look livid. "No." He pointed at his parents. "You two are terrible together."

"We are not terrible," Eileen protested. "We're really very good. At some things."

He covered his eyes. "Terrible. You are the worst couple, and you aren't getting back together." He crossed his arms, scowling.

"No one said anything about getting back together," Eileen said. "Stop being so petulant. You aren't two years old."

Harrison snorted. "Actually."

"Actually nothing," Tristan snapped. He addressed his mother. "Stop looking at him like that."

"Like what?" she asked innocently.

"Like it's . . . working for you—to see him behind bars."

She smiled a little. "Well."

"Ugh!" He sat back down, arms still crossed. "I can't believe this." He glared at Rory. "And I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me."

At least he was past her snooping in his drawers. "I didn't think you would take it this well," she said dryly. "I wasn't sure I was right. I just had a hunch that may have been wrong." She admitted, "I was hoping I was wrong."

"And to think, you're choosing now to tack DuGrey onto your name," Tristan said.

Eileen looked at her daughter-in-law with interest. "Oh really?" When Rory shrugged and nodded, Eileen said, "Welcome to the family."

"You aren't even in the family," Tristan said.

Rory tried to appeal to her husband, "I know you guys haven't all gotten along for a few years."

"More like decades," he said.

"But maybe it's time to forgive and forget. Like Mom with Grandma and Grandpa. I missed so many years with them because she didn't want to see them. And it's just a shame, because I really love them, and it's not my fault they had issues with each other."

Eileen pursed her lips and gave Rory a sidelong glance, as though suspicious of something.

Sarcastically, Tristan said, "Oh yeah, we'll all just bury the hatchet and pretend they never outsourced their problem to North Carolina." He glowered from one parent to the other. "Why would you do this? Did you forget you two hate each other?"

Kyle interjected, "Some people say there's a fine line between love and hate."

"Those people never met these two," Tristan said, pointing at his parents with his thumb. He let into them again, "I had a meltdown when you broke the family up. And now you're just back together again? I wouldn't have had to go to military school if not for you. My whole life could be different!"

"Oh, don't blame me for what you did," Harrison said impatiently.

Rory was frowning at her husband. "As long as you're wishing for a time machine to redo your life, maybe mine turns out differently too in that alternate universe. I could have stayed in Washington DC to write politics and we'd have never run into each other. It would all be so much better!" She went on, "I didn't know you were so unhappy with how your life turned out." She gave him a withering glare and before he could protest, she turned to walk away.

Kyle, who was still watching the family bicker, looked from his colleague to Tristan and reluctantly followed Rory.

"Rory, come on, that isn't what I meant. I don't want a time machine," he tried, but she was gone.

His father looked over at his son. "Nice job."

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

After a huffy walk to city hall, Rory stood outside a committee room, waiting for a meeting to start. She wished she could go out and about with Kyle looking into the dealerships, but that's just how the schedule fell. She'd sent him on his way, so they could divide and conquer. While she was happy about the progress they had made that morning, it was overshadowed by her anger at her husband. She was so mad she was burning up.

"What's wrong with you?" a familiar voice asked.

Rory jumped at the abrupt presence of Detective Stevenson. "Nothing," she said, not pulling it off since her brows were still deeply furrowed. "Your partner's sitting in a jail cell in the basement of the courthouse with his father, rethinking his entire life."

Mark pondered the idea and nodded his head slowly. "That sounds about right."

"Why are you her? You guys think my theory is stupid."

"I'm not here for that. I need to talk to one of the councilmen." He firmly added, "And it isn't in relation to Avery Fox's murder."

Rory turned her gaze elsewhere. "Whatever, I don't care what you're here for or what you think of my ideas. And I don't care if you don't want to talk to me about work stuff because I'm a reporter." She crossed her arms. It was stifling in here, why was the heat up so high? "I don't care about any of it. Just go on with your day and I'll go on with mine and we don't even have to pretend we know each other."

Mark regarded her. "Okay. I'm glad we could clear the air."

Rory tried not to think about it, but before long she was extrapolating, "Tristan had a temper tantrum in front of the judge because his dad tricked him into trying a case—like he really needed much of a push. He's obviously frustrated because he decided to pick lawyer if he wins and it looks like he isn't going to." She shook her head and went on, "He won't even make a pro-con list! And he's having a meltdown just because his parents are sleeping together."

"Yikes," Mark muttered under his breath.

"He thinks his whole life would be better if he hadn't gotten into trouble way back in high school when they were getting divorced."

Stevenson listened without interrupting, and let her cool off for a moment before he spoke. "He probably didn't mean his whole life. I've never been to military school, but if I had and it was avoidable, I'd prefer it that way." He added, "Maybe he would have liked to stay at your school. You were there."

Rory scoffed. "I still wouldn't have dated him, I had other boyfriends. Plus, imagine how Tristan is now, but ten times worse."

"I'd rather not picture that, but still." Mark added, "He doesn't regret how his life turned out. He married you and lives here and doesn't want a different life."

Her anger faded as she realized Mark was right, at least mostly. She gently said, "He might want it to be a little different."

Stevenson shoved his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze. "Yeah, well."

"You know you're like a brother to him. You're one of the more significant items on the list, if he would make one. You'd score a five. And it's out of five, so that's a big deal." Or would it go on the con side of being lawyer? Were all the pros on the detective side automatically cons on the lawyer side? There seemed to be some redundancy with the separate lists. Shoot, another flaw in her system. She was really going to have to revise the whole thing. Some changes needed to be implemented.

Mark gave her the same look Jacobs had the day before. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just want to assure you that you're really important to him, no matter what happens. I know I said it before to try to get you to talk about your case, but I did mean it when I said you're his family."

Mark just nodded once and looked away again.

Rory hoped she could go sit down soon. Then she could take off her winter layers. Even now that she'd calmed down, she still felt clammy.

The councilmembers started to arrive for the meeting and were lobbed with questions from the waiting reporters. A few feet down the hall, Wendy Lu was making her report in front of the camera. When she was finished, she turned toward the meeting room. At the sight of Rory with the dark haired detective, she smirked. When she got closer, she said, "Now this isn't your usual pairing. Won't Turner get jealous if he finds out you're with Hooch?"

Stevenson frowned. "I thought I was Turner."

Rory nodded. "You are."

"Still trying to figure out who killed Avery?" Wendy rolled her eyes. "I always forget how sensationalized your paper is. It's almost as bad as the Post."

"I thought Avery was your friend," Rory said. "That's where she worked."

"She did until she resigned to go work somewhere else," Mark said casually. "It's too bad she never got to work at her new job."

Wendy scoffed. "I'm sure CNN will be just fine without her. There are other fish in the sea." She left them alone then, but Stevenson's eyes followed her as she went into the conference room, his jaw set.

"You're finally getting somewhere," Rory said. "I don't know how she can trash talk the New York Daily News. I mean, sure, it isn't The Times, and yes, it was a tabloid format when it was founded. But there weren't other papers like it at the time, it was innovative. Joe Patterson was a brilliant newsman, every journalist knows that."

Mark didn't convey any emotions or curiosity as he asked, "Is CNN a big deal for you guys?"

"Oh man, yes," she said, envy in her voice. "I would kill to work at CNN." Mark stared at her, making her uneasy. Her eyes widened, realizing what she'd just said. "No, no, no, no, not literally! Not literally! I didn't kill Avery Fox! I never saw her in my life! I'll check my date book, but I'm sure I was with Tristan or at work—those are the only places I ever am—except when I visit my mom in Stars Hollow. But that's so far from the city. I have an alibi!"

Stevenson looked at her strangely for a moment, and seemed not to hear her protests.

More calmly, she shrugged and added, "I wanted to be like Christiane Amanpour since I was like two. She worked for CNN, so it was my Holy Grail, but I wouldn't do anything crazy to get there."

He shook his head. "I'm not taking you downtown."

Rory didn't like the way he was still pondering the thought. He said he wasn't taking her in, but he didn't look convinced. "Please give some indication that you believe me. I didn't do it, I swear."

He nodded half-heartedly. "I believe you. I don't think you did it. You probably couldn't hurt a fly if you wanted to."

"That's right. It isn't in my nature to be remotely cruel to anyone or anything. Ask anyone who has ever met me. I mean, I'm Rory Gilmore. No one thinks violence when they think Rory Gilmore."

He nodded. "Don't sweat it." He looked around. "Where is this guy?"

"Which guy?"

"The one I came to see." He glanced down at his watch and decided not to wait around. Instead, he left Rory and walked down the hall.

She continued to stand by the door, hoping Thaddeus Black would come to the meeting soon. It would be starting in a few minutes. A few more people passed her as they went into the conference room. She bit her lip and gawked down the hall when the meeting started. She didn't want to walk into a meeting that was in progress, it would draw unwanted attention to her. Rather than loiter by the door, she went down the hallway in the same direction Stevenson had gone. She found the directory and went in the direction of Black's office. However, when she got there, the door was closed and someone else was already occupying the councilman's time. From what she could hear, it sounded like Mark.

She tried to listen to what they were saying, as the unfamiliar voice had a confrontational quality, but they weren't quite loud enough to make out what they were saying. After about ten minutes, the door swung open and Thaddeus Black walked out first, followed by the detective.

"I'm not going to say a word until my lawyer gets there."

Rory's jaw dropped and she hurried to walk next to Mark. "Did he kill Avery Fox?" she whispered.

Mark glanced at her and only said, "I told you it's unrelated." At least he gave a straight answer this time, rather than 'no comment'. That was something. She didn't have anything else to do here, now that Mark had carted off the only person she was hoping to talk to. She wondered if she could get more information from him if she went to the precinct. That's what she would do if it was Tristan. But this wasn't him, and Mark had nothing to gain by talking to her. She couldn't give up just because her job was getting a tougher though. She'd take a cab and follow them to the precinct. She could wait Stevenson out. Rory kept following until they reached the elevator and hopped on before Mark could close the doors. He scowled at her.

She was feeling determined and defiant, and also still overheated. The slight upward lift of the elevator before it descended made her head swim a little. Before they reached the lobby, Rory's vision wasn't right, everything was white. She couldn't even make out Mark, who was two feet away. She should probably sit down.

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

"What were you scribbling when I was questioning Janice Summers?" Harrison asked. He hadn't moved from the bench since he and his son were left alone again. Eileen hadn't stuck around, leaving after Rory and Kyle left. Tristan had shuddered when she told his father that he knew where to find her.

"She wouldn't talk to us before the trial, so I was planning to discredit her," Tristan said. "But when you were questioning her she said something that helped my case."

Harrison nodded. "Fast thinking."

"Thanks."

They were silent for a couple minutes. "Sorry for ruining your life," Harrison said. "I thought I was doing the right thing—getting you away from home."

Home was an all-encompassing term, Tristan knew. One little word meant several things. Those friends he had at the time, that school, and maybe most of all—his quarreling parents. "It isn't ruined," he said. "I guess I deserved it." Then, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "What are you and Mom doing?" He was calmer this time, the anger drained away. It took too much energy to stay mad.

Harrison didn't answer right away. "I'm not sure. Maybe we aren't finished with each other. There are still some feelings there, and some chemistry." After a contemplative moment, he added, "I wasn't home very often when we were married. It seems she just didn't want to be left behind."

Tristan thought about it for a while. It was true, work came first for his dad. "Isn't she still married?"

"Yes. But as they say, this too, shall pass."

He shook his head at the logical, even if it was true. "Then what?"

Harrison shrugged. "I don't know."

Tristan glanced over at his father. "She's going to kill you in your sleep, you know."

"Probably," Harrison agreed. "But what a way to go."

Tristan grimaced. "Ugh." He turned to his side to lie back down on the bench. He had plenty of time to think while confined to this cell. They were right—all of them. He was being stupid. If he wanted to do something, he should just do it, and not worry about what anyone else thinks. It was his life, he was the one who had to live with himself. It didn't really matter if it was what his dad wanted. It wasn't like they saw much of each other anyway.

He lay like that for a few more minutes before he sat up. He glanced at his watch. "I guess we're done for the day. We can meet the judge tomorrow and I'll lower the charges."

His father nodded his agreement.

When they were released from the cell, Tristan got his phone back. He frowned when he saw he had missed messages. There was one from Mark, he took Rory to the hospital after she passed out while he was following her.

Tristan quickly made his way to the hospital. He nodded at an ER nurse he knew and asked where Rory was. He was led to her small room, where the bed was in an upright position.

"Hey," she said with a cringe. "I'm so embarrassed. I fainted in an elevator."

"No, it's okay," Tristan said, taking a seat next to the bed.

"I can't believe I passed out. I've never passed out. It's not a big deal, Mark didn't have to bring me here. He was working," she said. "It was just so hot at city hall. I swear it had to be 90 degrees in that place today."

"You've been sickly," he reminded her. "I would have done the same thing."

She looked at him guiltily. "Yeah, about that. I was going to wait, but I should tell you something."

"Wait, let me go first," he said. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I don't want a different life. I like how things turned out, with you. I love you."

She smiled softly. "I love you too. I know you didn't mean it, or I did after I talked with Mark about it." She added, "He and I had a heart to heart. He's going to miss you."

"Who said I made a decision?"

She gave him a grim, knowing look. "You know what you want to do. You just have to admit it out loud."

He clenched his jaw for a minute, and then nodded. "Yeah, I decided. " He looked down at his hands and then back at her. "I want to apply at the DA's office."

"You do, you're sure?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I think it's time to bury the hatchet and let my daddy-issues go."

She smiled wider suddenly. "We can get donuts now and you won't be a bad stereotype."

He looked at her strangely. "Why didn't you just put that on one of your pro lists? I could have made the decision much sooner if I knew donuts hung in the balance."

She laughed a little. "I'm actually revising my pro-con list. The whole system needs to be refined."

He raised a brow, maybe a little too interested. "Oh really? I thought it was perfect the way it is."

"Well, not all factors are significant. Donuts, for instance, should not hold the same weight as hazardous working conditions."

"You should have told me that it bothers you."

"I already have. I wanted you to pick what you wanted. But now that you have, I have something to tell you."

Before Rory could do so, the doctor appeared at the door. He had a clipboard that he glanced at and then stuck under his arm. "Everything looks good, you just got a little over heated," he told them. "Mom and baby are both doing very well."

Tristan stared at the man in blue scrubs for a long moment, dumbfounded. He must have heard wrong. "Who and the what now?"

"Oh," the doctor said. "You didn't know?"

He shook his head slowly and looked back at Rory with his brows raised. At her glance at the doctor, he left them alone.

Sheepishly, she said. "I just found out—well, Mom did for me, I had no idea. It turns out there was a reason I've been so sick and tired and eating strange things. I was just waiting for you to be less stressed out about your entire life." She looked at him apprehensively. "Well?"

He sat, dumbfounded for a moment. "I guess that does explain some things. I'm a terrible detective," he said with a frown.

She shook her head. "You and me both." She looked back at him again. "We can do this, though, can't we?" she asked, as if she honestly wasn't sure.

"Of course we can. We've got this."

She exhaled heavily, relieved that decisions were made and secrets were out of the bag. "So, you're still happy about everything?"

He paused only briefly to look at her, eyes shining. He leaned in to kiss her. "Yeah, I'm happy with everything."

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

The following day, Tristan was sitting at his desk at the precinct when Rory stepped off the elevator and walked over to his desk. She sat in the empty chair next to him and looked at him expectantly. They were going to lunch since his court schedule was different today.

Tristan frowned from her to his partner. "Kyle caught a drug dealer this week?"

"Well, it was really Madam Atlantica who named the dealer since she was the seller, but Kyle was the one to brought it to my attention," Stevenson said. "I wish that was all, but last night he dropped by again with some other information." He pointed at Rory. "They found a towing company and a used car dealership with a less than reputable way of acquiring cars."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, we found some of the stolen cars that have been reported. I told the captain and he reached out to some of the other precincts. Turns out one of them was trying to take down a ring, and Kyle's information helped them out. They're shutting three dealerships down."

Rory sat up straighter, her brows arching eagerly. "Really? We caught the bad guys?"

Tristan shook his head. "You guys are cleaning up this city. Did one of the dealerships happen to sell a Dodge Stratus?"

Mark glanced at Rory, but nodded anyway. "One did. It was purchased with cash, but the buyer still had to sign a couple papers. It's actually a name that's been creeping up ever since I followed your wife to city hall yesterday to find out who was giving her bad information."

Tristan grimaced at that. Rory's jaw dropped. "You were following me?" She turned to Tristan. "You had him follow me?"

"Not him specifically," Sheepishly, he added, "I told him to get a uni to do it." He quickly went on, "But keep listening, it sounds like it did some good."

Rory's eyes lingered on him before turning her attention back to his partner.

Mark continued his story, "Rory said something odd that gave me an idea."

"What did I say?"

"You said you would kill to work at CNN."

"But I quickly took it back!"

Tristan stared. "She didn't do it. I can't believe you'd actually consider her. She was probably at work or with me when the murder happened. So you can cross her off of your suspect list."

She added, "You said you believed I didn't do it!"

After a beat, Mark asked, "Finished?"

"Yes."

"I never said I thought you did it. But someone with the same sentiment might." He handed over a canary yellow pad of paper with a list of names.

"What's this?" Tristan asked with a frown, reading the names. His eyes lingered on a familiar name, which happened to be circled.

"Those are all the interviewed candidates for the CNN job Avery landed." Mark added, "One of those reporters led Ms. Gilmore on a wild goose chase—which wasn't a complete waste, but only by luck."

"Let's go talk to her," Tristan said, quickly putting on his coat.

Rory quickly stood, even though she didn't see the list. "Yes, let's go."

Tristan and Mark both looked at her hesitantly.

"Come on, you guys weren't getting anywhere until you started following me and using the information Kyle and I found. You'd still be questioning Sean Adams without me." She looked up at Tristan pleadingly. "And this might be the last time I get to go to one of your crime scenes. Don't you want me to see you be the hero and get the bad guy one more time? I'll stay in the car while you do your thing. I promise."

Warily, Tristan relented. "Fine, let's go."

On their way to the elevator, Stevenson muttered, "Wow, that was manipulative."

They all piled in Tristan's small car and he drove them to a local news station. Upon learning it was their suspect's day off, they instead went to her apartment. Rory, as she promised, waited in the car, though she'd asked many questions after their first stop. When they arrived at their destination, the detectives went up to the seventh floor of the apartment building and knocked on the door.

The door swung open and Wendy Lu was on the other side. Her eyes widened slightly at first, but she quickly hid it, instead trying to look annoyed. She was dressed much more casually than she did when they normally saw her during working hours. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Tristan grinned charmingly. "Hello, I think we've met. Could we ask you some questions?" They didn't wait for an answer before squeezing past her and into her apartment. There was a small living room with an adjoining kitchen. A narrow hallway led to a couple more rooms.

"About what?" she asked.

"Your career." Stevenson gestured for her to take a seat on the couch, as she had no dining table. Tristan however, did not join them. Instead, he hovered near the hallway.

Wendy eyed him warily. "What are you doing?"

"Mind if I look around?"

"Yes."

"That's okay, my partner already secured a search warrant." Tristan went down the hall to the bathroom and washed his hands, and then peeked in the small bedroom that also had a desk with a laptop. On the wall in front of the desk, there were several pictures of a living Avery Fox, as well as the one from the ME after she'd been found dead. There were also many articles from the Post with Avery's byline at the top.

Tristan could hear Mark proceeding with his interview in the next room. "I just want to know about your interview with CNN. You interviewed for the same job as Avery Fox. We're following up with all the candidates. The manager really liked her. They told me she was far away the best person for the job."

"She didn't even know they had an opening until I told her I was applying!" Wendy said, apparently upset to hear a compliment for the other woman.

"Could I see you in here for a second?" Tristan called to his partner.

Mark joined him and took a look at the wall. "Yikes." He called to the kitchen. "We need to ask you about something." When there was no answer, they both went back to the kitchen. It was empty and the door was open. "Would you look at that? She escaped." He quickly made a call on his radio as they ran out of the apartment.

They split up when they got to the hallway, one taking the stairs and the other the elevator. When they got to the ground floor and exited the building, a uniformed officer Mark had stationed on the street was cuffing Wendy Lu at his squad car.

Watching from just outside Tristan's car, Rory's mouth was hanging open. When Tristan approached her a little later, she asked. "What the hell did she do?"

Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Stuffed a girl into the trunk of a car and drove it into the Hudson."

"Wendy Lu did it?"

Tristan nodded. "The obsession wall in her apartment suggests she did, as well as some other incriminating evidence."

"Oh my God, she had an obsession wall?"

"Yup. Just like the ones you see on TV. You know those names she gave you were random—to throw you off."

Rory covered her mouth with her hand, still watching the cop wrangle her least favorite reporter. She was too stunned to brag about leading them to the murderer—for the moment.

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Tristan rested his chin in the palm of his hand and looked up at the judge's bench. The courtroom was empty except for him as he sat in the row of seats behind the prosecutor's table. He and his father had just met with the judge to discuss adjusting the charges.

He'd had a busy day. While they were interrogating Wendy Lu about Avery Fox, a couple other detectives had taken over with Thaddeus Black. The councilman had the unfortunate task of explaining why he'd taken a meeting with Sean Adams . . . right before one of his staff members went missing. Tristan didn't want to jump to conclusions, but chances were good that someone found out Black was doing something newsworthy. He was going to wait to tell Rory about this one. She was still gloating over how helpful she'd been in leading them to Wendy Lu. If she knew she was on to something with the councilman—even if wrong about who went down for it—she'd become insufferable.

Tristan didn't look up when the door opened and someone else sat across the aisle from him, behind the defense table. Neither of them said anything for a while. After a couple minutes, Tristan finally spoke, "You're good at punishing crimes. Maybe you should be a judge."

Harrison shook his head. "No, judges are held to a higher standard. I have shaky morals." He sighed. "I just wanted to see if you could do it."

Tristan admitted, "Me too. That, and beat you."

Harrison tilted his head. "I can see the catharsis in that. Maybe next time."

Tristan finally turned to look at his dad. "There'll be a next time?"

"Probably not, actually. I'm going to slink back to Hartford after this. I'll leave you alone." The he said, "You're going to live your life the way you want."

"You don't care?"

Harrison didn't answer immediately. "I came all the way here, didn't I?" he asked rhetorically. "That's a lot of work to not care at all."

His dad cared. Huh. His dad believed in him. It felt strange. And strangely, not bad. "Do you really think I can do it?"

"Yes." Harrison added, "If you need help, you can just ask." He didn't say who Tristan should ask. It almost sounded like he was offering.

Tristan should probably share the news. Harrison was, after all, family. "You're going to be a grandpa."

Harrison's lips scrunched and he nodded once. "Ah."

They were silent again for a moment. Tristan asked, "What if I do it wrong?"

The older man glanced over. "I just told you, ask someone with experience."

"Not that. I mean, be a dad. What if I do it wrong?"

"Oh. That happens, even if you have the best of intentions." Harrison looked back up at the judge's bench. "Same advice, ask someone with experience. In this case, your grandfather. He did a better job."

Tristan gave his father a sidelong glance. "He didn't do that good of a job."

The corner of Harrison's lips curved up in a smirk-like smile as he nodded again. "Congratulations."

Tristan nodded. "Thanks." He continued to stare in front of him. "Tell Mom, I guess."

Harrison shook his head. "No. I don't really have a death wish. You have to do it, and before she hears it from someone else."

"I didn't think she cared."

"Sometimes you think wrong." He didn't say anything else as he stood and exited the courtroom.

Tristan stayed for just a minute longer before he too, stood. He flung his suit jacket over his shoulder as he gave the judge's bench one last look. He turned to walk down the center aisle to follow where his father had gone.

Fin