Eddie Janko finally wakes from her two-day, medically induced coma at one in the afternoon. She lies there for a bit until her head stops swimming, and when she opens her eyes she's surprisingly lucid. She's met with more familiar faces than she can count, including Maria Baez, and what looks to be every living member of the Reagan family tree. But there is one person she doesn't quite expect: a short young woman standing with her back turned, watching the snow drift down outside. The bright red hair was the giveaway - the one thing she noticed even before she noticed Jamie's grip on her hand.

"Reyan?" she asks, wincing at both the sound of her voice and the dryness of her throat. With that one question, every eye in the room snaps to her. Danny startles at the sound, ending up with one hand resting on his gun, though she isn't quite sure how he's even allowed to have that in here.

"Eddie!" Reyan shouts, spinning around immediately.

"You scared the hell out of all of us, Janko," Frank Reagan says from his chair in the corner, accurately capturing the thoughts of everyone in the room.

"Do you remember what happened?" Danny asks. Baez smacks his arm and gives him a sharp glare that says 'Not the time, Reagan.' It's the same look she's shot to Jamie about a hundred times. Eddie nods in response.

"Because we're gonna need to talk about that later," Danny adds, "You too, Jamie."

"You already interrogated me, Danny," Jamie protests.

"I know. That's why she gets to do it this time." He grins, pointing a thumb at Baez next to him.

"What? No way... It's a one-time thing."

"Do you know anything yet?" Eddie interrupts, looking toward Baez instead.

"Danny sure doesn't," Jamie mutters

"Hey!"

"Boys..." Baez, Frank, and Erin warn at almost the same time, sharing a knowing look.

"We do have a solid lead," Baez continues. "One of the officers walking out of the precinct that night caught a license plate. But I'll leave it up to Danny to discuss that with you privately. We have, of course, traced the plates and gone to speak with him, but his information is not something we want spreading until we can get any kind of actual confirmation from a source - whether that be you or someone or something else - that he was involved."

"I'd like to talk about it now," Eddie says

"Ed..." Reyan sighs, "Don't you think it might be a little soon? You literally just woke up. Maybe you should take some time..."

"I'm fine, Reyan. I just want this to be over."

"You got shot in the chest."

"Yeah, that's the point. I don't want to do that again." Jamie sits there watching the argument with an increasing look of amusement. His hand still rests over Eddie's and either no one else has noticed or they don't want to be that person and point it out.

"Okay," Rey gives in. "Do what you want. I trust you and I need to get a flight back to LA anyway."

"You're leaving?" Eddie cries. Her blue eyes, still slightly clouded by pain, are filled with hurt.

"Eds, I have a job back there. I have people who need me, just like you do. These guys aren't gonna leave you, I promise. Especially Jamie. If Jamie leaves you call me. I stayed here for the part when I didn't know if you were going to be okay. But I know now, and I trust that you'll be back to your usual self real soon even without me. You know I love you, Eddie, but this is the other side of the country. It just doesn't work, as much as I wish it did. So yeah, I'm leaving, but that's only because I know you're safe here with the NYPD, and the Reagans, and everything else. Alright?"

"I haven't seen you in forever, Rey," Eddie whispers, hating how pitiful she sounds.

"I know. I'll call or text every day, just like always, I promise."

"You have to come tell me when you're leaving."

"I wouldn't dream of it any other way."

"Okay kid, what do you remember?" Danny asks her, pen poised over his notepad like some old-school detective.

"Can I get a more specific starting point?"

"Fine. Let me set the scene: It's the night of December eleventh and you and your partner have just gotten off tour. You're walking out of the precinct together, talking. Then a car comes down the street. Do you remember that car, officer Janko?"

"Sure. I was standing next to Jamie's car and this black car came down the street real slow. The headlights were off, which was weird because it was after midnight and it was snowing. I didn't quite dismiss it - because of the headlights but also because it reminded me of a car one of my dad's clients used to drive. That just kinda stuck out to me, I guess. I kept talking to Jamie though, and as it passed by I heard gunshots. That's when it starts to get less clear. I remember Jamie yelling, grabbing my arm. And Kara - I think it was Kara - yelling about there being a shooter and for someone to write down the plate numbers before she forgot. Someone else asked for a bus and that's when I realized that I wasn't in pain because Jamie had pulled me down" Eddie looks up at Danny slowly. Her fingertips trace the edges of the gauze taped to her skin.

"It's okay," Danny says. Looking into her tear-filled blue eyes he finds himself wishing that his little brother was here. Jamie always knew what to do about Eddie.

"I have never seen my partner look as absolutely terrified as he did then," Eddie finally continues, taking a shaking breath. "I couldn't breathe, and everything hurt, and his hands were all covered in blood. I don't think I was fully conscious at that point so I wasn't seeing and hearing everything, but he kept telling me to hold on - like I was going to try anything else..." she smiles slightly. "But his eyes, Danny, his eyes were so scared. And all I could think was 'Why wasn't I wearing a vest?' After that, I must've finally blacked out because the next thing I really remember is waking up here. I mean there's a few bits and pieces of voices while I was out, but nothing else from that night."

"That's good. That's really good, Eddie. Can you tell me anything else about that car?"

"Back before he got locked up, my dad had a lot of clients. But there were a few that came over for dinners and went out golfing or whatever with him on the weekends. One of these guys was named Erich, fitting because he was rich and German. He was kind of a terrible person and he didn't like me much. But when I was like seventeen I thought he drove the coolest car: an early eighties Monte Carlo, matte black.