a/n - this is a little ficlet that uses the prompt, "The last time I saw her, she was..."

The Last Time I Saw Her

"What's wrong? Not enough anchovies on the pizza?" Inspector Steve Keller teased as he and his partner, Lt. Mike Stone sat in their unmarked police car. It was another late night of documenting the comings and goings at a mysterious warehouse near the bay.

Mike didn't reply, but glanced over to the lights of the Bay Bridge not far away glistening like diamonds over the water.

Steve noticed quickly that his partner wasn't listening. "Personally, I don't think you could ever have enough anchovies," he continued as he chewed his picked over slice. "I like them on my pizza, but you know, they're also quite good in omelets." The young man was well known for his dislike of many foods, not the least of which was anchovies.

Mike continued to look at the bridge and gave no reply.

"And of course, the latest nouveau cuisine craze marries anchovies with German chocolate cake. People pay hundreds for a single serving."

Mike answered only with a disinterested "uh-huh" and kept his gaze on the bridge. The last time I saw her, she was crossing the Bay Bridge as she headed back to school. Steve and I followed the bus until we were nearly out of our jurisdiction. I wonder if she knows how much I love her.

Steve finished his second slice and reached for a third, sniffing and then crinkling his nose at the offending topping before dutifully picking off each little piece of unwanted fish. "As a matter of fact, I have it on good authority that the ring leader of the gang we've had under surveillance is actually a giant anchovy. You see, I think he's swimming up to the entrance now."

"What? Did you see something?" Mike asked as he quickly snapped his head back in the direction of the warehouse.

Steve sighed. "What I'm seeing is that my partner is mighty distracted this evening. What's got into you anyway? You're not eating, you're not listening and worst of all, you're not paying attention to the warehouse." With that remark, Steve reminded himself that he, too, needed to pay attention to the warehouse and shot a quick glance toward the entrance.

"You're right. I'm sorry," Mike replied, but then said nothing more.

"What is it? Are you sick?" Steve pressed.

"No, I'm not sick" came the curt response.

"Is it the case?"

"No, it's not the case."

"Is it a woman?"

No answer.

"Mike?"

Still no answer.

"Aha!" Steve exclaimed, somewhat louder than he should have. Mike flinched. "Sorry. But it's a woman, isn't it?" Proud of himself, he said under his breath, "I knew it!"

"You know nothing," Mike said harshly.

"Hey, don't take it out on me," Steve responded with a shrug. "Why don't you tell me about it? I'm an expert in all things women, you know that. And not just the good stuff – heh, heh. Believe me, I've experienced plenty of the bad. Lunatics, airheads, ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands. And one time, I almost got dumped…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. There's nothing bad going on, so just forget about it."

The pair sat in silence, but at least Mike was able to return his thoughts to the warehouse stakeout.

Steve, however, could not leave well enough alone. "It's Irene, isn't it? You two are apart now and you miss her."

"So help me Steve, you're going to end up with your teeth in the back of your throat if you don't zip your lip."

"Okay, okay."

Mike nodded his head in relief.

"I won't mention it again," Steve added and once again checked out the warehouse. "No, sir."

Mike gritted his teeth as he knew more was coming. He tried to count to ten. One...Two...Three...Four...Five

...Six...Sev-

"I won't mention Irene because I know it upsets you so," Steve whispered, bringing up the subject one more time.

Mike clinched his fist, but then released it as he knew he was in a no win situation. "All right, wise guy. If you really must know…" he bellowed. The anger in his voice was evident.

"You're bellowing. Didn't your mother ever tell you to use your 'inside voice'? You'll wake up the night watchman at the warehouse."

"I. Am. Going. To. Ring. Your. Neck," Mike declared deliberately.

Steve flashed a lopsided grin and puppy eyes at his partner. "Okay, I'm sorry. I was just trying to get you out of your funk."

Now it was Mike's turn to sigh. "My funk," he began in exasperation. "You think that Irene is the reason I'm in a funk?" Mike asked somewhat civilly.

"Well, isn't she?" Steve asked.

"As a matter of fact, no, Mr. Know-It-All, she's not."

"Well, who then?"

"Who else do you think? What other example of female prowess could get me this worked up?"

"Female prowess? I don't know. Was Norm in drag again?" he asked with a sly grin.

"No, Norm wasn't in drag again," Mike mocked, but at least he smiled for split second. And then the smile faded and he once again became somber. "It's Jeannie."

"Jeannie? What's wrong? She's graduating in just a month and then she'll be coming home." Steve paused for a moment to consider the possibilities.

Mike chose not to reply and simply looked at his partner.

"She is coming home, isn't she? Last we spoke, she could say nothing except how she couldn't wait to move back home." The pitch of Steve's voice jumped as fear and dread crept into his mind.

"Well, that's the thing. She's decided to go onto graduate school. And she wants to complete her Masters at Arizona State," Mike explained. "I was so hopeful that she would come back home. I'm sure going to miss her."

A knot formed in Steve's stomach. Suddenly the doors of the car felt like they were closing in. "Why doesn't she transfer back here? We have Stanford and Berkeley practically at your doorstep," he protested.

"I know that, but Arizona State has the master's program in her discipline. The other schools here don't," Mike reasoned.

Steve let out a slight gasp. He couldn't believe his ears. "Well, you're not going to agree to this, are you?" The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"What?" Mike was momentarily surprised at Steve's reaction, but continued. "Well, of course I am going to agree to this. She's building a career and a life. I can't stand in her way." Logic and love took over Mike's thoughts, and talking about the situation seemed to help. He was indeed proud of his daughter. He thought for a moment how proud his late wife would be as well. And then a smile crept over his face, this time for good.

"She can build her career and life here. San Francisco is bigger than Phoenix." Steve defended. "There's more to do here."

"No, it will be fine. And she'll come home for the holidays and summer just like before." Rationalizing the entire situation did go a long way to make Mike more accepting of Jeannie's decision.

"How long will it take her to get her degree?" Steve interrupted. There was a hint of a whine in his voice.

"As long as she needs." Mike's appetite began to reappear. "Hey, hand over the pizza. I'm starved."

Steve tossed his half eaten slice sans anchovies back and passed the box onto his partner.

"Who knows," Mike wondered aloud ignoring the half eaten remains and grabbing a full slice. "By the time she finishes, she'll be in her mid–twenties. She might meet someone special there or maybe, just maybe, she'll get her PhD. Wouldn't that be something? Dr. Jeannie Stone. My little girl."

Steve rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Terrific," he muttered. And then realizing he was at risk of tipping his hand about feelings he had kept under wraps for so long, he added, "Really, that's great, Mike. I couldn't be happier."

Mike's full attention was now focused on the warehouse. "C'mon, Buddy boy. Let's see what they're up to in there." He slugged his partner on the arm and thankfully didn't notice he wasn't paying attention.

Instead, Steve looked over to the bridge. The lights were like diamonds glistening over the water. The last time I saw her, she was crossing the Bay Bridge as she was going back to school...