The 47th apartment was on the fourth floor and the elevator was broken. As Andy and Sam reached the third floor Andy took the lead. "Getting tired, old man?" She asked, grinning evilly. Just like old times.

"Never." He replied, pushing past her and jogging up the stairs.

The apartment building itself was decently nice; there was a small patch of garden out front, it was a brick building with a clean interior, even if it was slightly run-down. The apartment they were looking for had a shiny brass number on the door and a cute little sign that read, "All those dear are welcome here."

There was no noise coming from inside.

Sam tapped on the door. "Police, open up." As he did so, the door kind of just… fell open. Sam looked at Andy, who shrugged. "Alrighty then…" He muttered, more to himself than to her. They went in.

The living room and kitchen were open concept, and it was clear that there was no one there. The place looked bare; there were no magazines stacked on the coffee table, no dirty mugs sitting by the sink, no sweatshirts hung over the back of chairs. "Hello?" Andy called out. There was no answer. "Worth a shot."

Sam wandered around, looking in the bathroom while Andy checked out the kitchen. It looked like no one had lived there in a couple of weeks, at least, from the dust gathered. When Sam returned to the main room, Andy said, "I'm going to go down and talk to the super, see what the story is on this place, and then maybe I'll talk to the neighbors, see who called and why."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam replied. "I'll hang out up here and check out the place."

When Andy was gone Sam went into the first bedroom, which had been turned onto a sort of home office. At least, that's what he assumed from the only piece of furniture in the room, a desk shoved against the far wall.

He tried the next bedroom. Under the window was a double bed, stripped bare of sheets, just a couple of case-less pillows up at the head. The closet was open and empty, except for a few hangers. Sam sighed. Just a prank, then. He thought irritably. Waste of my time. He went to leave.

There was a short cry, and he spun around, looking for the source. It came again, and the pillows at the head of the bed moved. Slowly Sam drew his gun, and, very carefully, he approached the bed. When he was in position he flipped the pillows back.

When the baby saw him, it started crying, reaching up for him and screaming. Oh God… Sam thought as he looked at the infant, clad in only a diaper, lying on the mattress before him. "Oh God."

Andy sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Sam had radioed her, saying, "Get up here, McNally. Now!" He sounded almost…scared. Unsettled, at the very least. Thoughts flashed through her mind; a bomb? A body? A stash of drugs, or guns, or worse?

When she reached the apartment she was panting. She burst in, gun in hand. "Sam?" She shouted. "Sam?"

"I'm right here, Andy." He said. So we're back to Andy? She thought briefly. He was sitting on the couch with his back to her. He sounded tired. "Put that thing away."

She jammed the gun in her belt and approached to see him holding something. "What is it?" She said, more loudly than she intended to.

"Get over here and stop shouting." He whispered. "I just got him to sleep."

Andy came up behind the couch. "Just got him to- what?" And then she saw the baby, wrapped in Sam's jacket and sleeping in his arms. "Oh my God."

"That's what I said." Sam pulled the jacket's rough collar away from the baby's face.

Andy sunk down on the couch beside him. "What do we do?" She asked.

Sam looked at her, catching the worry in her eyes, and, he knew, matching it with the same expression in his. "We call dispatch, try and see if we can find out who made the call, see in we can track them down, and then invite them into the interrogation room for a bit."

"No," Andy shook her head. "I know that. I mean, what do we do with it?" She motioned towards the baby.

Sam stood. "Okay, first of all, he a him, and second of all, you're going to get in the car and drive me and Junior here back to the barn, and then come back here and ask around. Find out whose apartment this is, who lives around here, and who recently had a baby."

Andy stood also and shook out her hands. "Alright." She looked at Sam and the awkward bundle in his arms. "You want me to hold him?"

Sam started out the door. "Nah." He said. "I got it."

"Okay, good." She felt jittery as they started slowly down the stairs. "I was an only child."

Chris and her had been sitting quietly, occasionally making a comment, when Jerry came up to the desk. "Shay, thou who art dearest to my heart-"

"No." Shay said, much to Chris' amusement.

Jerry tried again. "But-"

"No."

"I need-"

She cut him off. "No."

"It's for a case." He said in a rush before she could stop him. "Nothing personal."

She considered for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. What?"

Jerry grinned. "Sam and McNally are coming in, they found something in an abandoned apartment. They requested either you or Traci, and Traci's out. They just need out to meet them by the garage."

Shay sighed again. "Fine, I'll do it. What did they find?"

"I don't know," Jerry began walking away. "Sam didn't say!"

She turned back to the desk. Chris was looking at her and smiling. "What?"

"Nothing." He said. "You and Detective Barber just remind me of my sister and I."

Shay smiled wanly. "Yeah. We get that a lot."

When Shay entered the garage, she expected a lot of things. Maybe they had found a stash of drugs; maybe the needed her to pick a lock or talk to a witness. She did not expect to see Sam Swarek, self-proclaimed man's man, with a baby cradled in his arms, cooing to it softly. She did not expect to see Andy McNally standing awkwardly beside him, looking at the child the same way anyone else would look at a bomb or a loaded rifle.

Immediately she understood why they had wanted either her or Traci. Traci had a kid, Jerry had told her, five or six, named Lee or something? And she had spent more than half her life looking after and raising kids.

"No. No way." Was her only words as she slowly backed away from them.

Swarek looked up. "Come on. McNally and I need to go back to the building, see if we can find the woman who abandoned this little guy. You've got to take him." He held the baby out to her. "Please?"

"No." Shay glared at him. "My baby days are over. Take him to the hospital or something."

McNally jumped in, crossing her arms and giving Shay a look. "We can't." She said flatly. "He's evidence."

Whoa, Shay thought. Who spit in her bean curd? "Technically," she replied, matching the other girl's tone. "He's a witness, and witnesses go to the hospital all the time."

Swarek offered the boy to her again. "Then take him to the hospital. Please." When she shook her head, his voice became more threatening. "Hey. I drove you here this morning. You owe me."

He had hit her weak spot, just like he knew he would. "Fine," she said. "Give him to me."

"Thanks a ton, Shay." He called over his shoulder as he and McNally hurried into the station.

Shay was left standing in the garage with a baby bundled up in someone's jacket. She sighed and looked down at the child. He was staring up at her, eyes wide and trusting. They were big and brown and Shay was reminded of the last time she held a kid this small.

Randy was only a couple months old and already Marissa's latest boyfriend was gone. Shay was rocking her brother in the small room her and Cara shared, with her sister sitting on the bed behind her, with Shay between the two of them and the door. She was only 9 at the time, but already knew that it was her duty to protect her siblings from her mother. Marissa was on another drinking spree, with a little weed mixed in, and was currently alternating between crying and screaming while throwing breakable items at the wall.

9-year-old Shay was suddenly jolted 17 years into the future, looking down at the child who was not her brother, cradled in her arms. "Hey little guy," she whispered to him. "Everything's going to be just fine."

With some luck, it would be.