"Dad? "You're here?" Adam's words squeaked out. He was still holding the door open.

"You!" Paul wasn't looking at Adam, but at me. His eyes bugged out and he stalked toward me angrily. "Get away from my son!"

I couldn't believe his stupidity: he breaks the restraining order just 24 hours after receiving it, and then threatens a police officer? My only hesitation would be in decking him in front of his son.

But he never reached me. Adam darted between us, yelling for him to stop; and Bobby's arm came from behind me, holding Paul away.

Paul's mouth was moving, but nothing came out – probably because Bobby was shoving him backward all the way to the service counter, and pressing him there with an arm across his chest. Bobby showed his shield to the clerk and told him to call the police. Allison hadn't moved since I entered the store; she looked terrified.

"Paul Whitlock," Bobby said, "you're under arrest for violating the Order of Protection. The Rochester police will be here in a few minutes." That got Paul's attention: he was still fuming, but he stopped resisting Bobby, who withdrew his arm as he continued. "Think of what Adam is seeing right now. Give him something to respect in his father."

Paul hadn't looked past his own selfish interests four years ago when Doreen was sinking into her suicidal depression. He didn't now, even with Bobby giving him a chance to hold onto some dignity. His voice was tight with anger as he said, "This is your fault! You took my son away from me four years ago, and you're turning him against me now. His grandmother fills his head with useless religion, and teaches him to hate his own father!"

"Dad… no…" Adam whispered. He jumped when I touched his shoulder. He turned to look up at me – he was near tears. I put my arm around him and pulled him close.

Bobby glared at Paul as he pointed to Adam. "You spent so much time and energy to see him secretly, as though you had to steal his love, but you didn't need to do that. Your son wants to love you. The only person standing in the way is you."

I knew Bobby was controlling his anger to spare Adam's feelings. That was why he hadn't handcuffed Paul. But Paul seemed determined to waste every chance he was given. We heard the sound of cars pulling into the parking spaces outside the store – probably the police - and it goaded him to a new burst of anger.

"He belongs with me!" Paul cried as he slammed his fist against the wall.

Bobby tilted his head and leaned close – right in Paul's face. I always got a kick out of him taunting the perps. "Really?" he said. "Why?"

The question stumped Paul. It was telling that he hadn't made a single move to touch his son, or even to speak directly to him. He'd hardly looked at the boy. His focus was entirely on himself - what a jerk.

Bobby said, "The correct answer would be, 'Because I love him.'"

The door opened behind me, and someone touched my shoulder. "Detective Eames." Sergeant Brower and his partner entered the store.

"Let's wait outside," I whispered into Adam's ear. The policemen were patting down Paul and reading him his rights.

"Can I – can I talk to him?" Adam whispered back. His eyes were huge.

I turned to the cops. They hadn't handcuffed Paul yet. "Guys, give them a minute, please."

Everyone took a step back as Adam put his arms around his father and pressed his cheek against Paul's chest. Paul obviously didn't know what to do with the show of affection; he finally patted Adam's back awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Adam said, "I'm sorry. Please, just… be careful."

We waited for Paul to say something, but he was silent - he didn't have much practice in tenderness. I wasn't surprised, but at least he wasn't leaving his son with a temper tantrum as his parting memory.

Sergeant Brower kindly steered Adam back to me. I gestured to Bobby to let him know which direction we'd go, and led Adam outside.

People had gathered in the parking lot to see the police activity. Adam definitely didn't need to see his dad led away in handcuffs, so I headed for the Dunkin' Donuts, which was only two doors away in the little strip mall. Inside, I put him in a seat facing away from the street, and sat next to him. I rested my elbow on the back of his chair and ran my fingers through his hair. My nephew liked to have his hair stroked when he was upset, and I hoped I was a comfort to Adam, too.

We were still sitting like that when Bobby joined us about ten minutes later. He pulled up a chair on the other side of Adam. "You were very brave," he said, patting Adam's knee.

Adam kept staring straight ahead. "Did they take him to jail?"

"They took him to the police station," Bobby replied. "He'll go before a judge, and will probably be allowed to post bail."

"Then he can go home?"

"Yes. He'll also have to see the judge in New York City," Bobby said. "He'll decide if your dad's allowed to come back to Rochester."

Adam leaned his elbows on his knees, and dropped his chin onto his fists. Bobby looked questioningly at me, but I just shrugged – I could read Bobby, but I didn't know what was going on in Adam's head.

Finally Adam said softly, "He probably shouldn't come back for a long time."

"Is that what you want?" I asked.

"Well…" He turned toward me, then Bobby. "I mean, he was going to take me away, wasn't he?"

"We think so," Bobby said. He didn't say more, but I was sure they'd found passports on Paul.

Adam curled his body over his knees again. "I wouldn't have gone – I wouldn't."

"We believe you," I said, rubbing his back. "You didn't really want to go to that private school, did you?"

Adam shook his head. "No. I shouldn't have told Grandma I did. But… I don't know. It felt like I did the wrong thing no matter what. I mean, either I went against Dad or Grandma."

"I know," Bobby replied. "I know. Sometimes there's no good choice."

Adam straightened and turned toward Bobby. "Did it happen to you, too?"

"Not the same as this," he said, "but yes… I ended up hurting a friend."

I had to hand it to Adam: he was innocently hitting all our sore spots today. Bobby and I had been in many no-win situations, but I was sure he was talking about the time of his suspension, when he was offered the undercover job as the only way to get back his badge. I hadn't made things any easier for him with my stubborn grudge. We'd finally cleared the air between us, but the reminder was still painful. I tried to swallow the lump that suddenly materialized in my throat.

"Who?" Adam asked.

Bobby took a long, slow breath and let it out. "Alex."

Adam swung around to stare at me. "Were you mad at him?"

"I was. Very mad."

"Even though you liked him?"

I'd been looking at Adam, but at that question my eyes rose right into Bobby's gaze – and stayed there. "I let my temper get the best of me for a while," I said. "That was wrong. But we apologized to each other; we talked about it."

"And now?"

I arched my eyebrows at Bobby. "Now we're okay. We're close again."

"That's good," Adam said. He fidgeted in his seat and sighed loudly. "But my dad…"

"Give it time, Adam," Bobby said. "There's always hope. And I know for a fact your grandma's not angry at you."

"I know – she's really… she's great."

I stood up. "Why don't we get back to her – she'll be worried by now, and I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry for lunch. Adam, can you wait outside for a minute?"

"Sure." Adam scanned the parking lot before going out. The crowd that had come to see the excitement was gone.

When the door had closed again I said, "Paul had passports?"

Bobby nodded. "All three. Brower took the cell phone, too."

"Why'd you say he'll be allowed out on bail? He looks like a flight risk to me."

"Adam would be the reason for flight. Without him…" Bobby shrugged. "Besides, he'll probably have to put his house up as bail."

"Ah! Paul the tightwad isn't about to risk losing his house." I saw Adam looking in the window. "Ooh, don't tell him I said that."

Bobby nodded automatically, but then turned to face me fully with an amused expression.

"Forget about it," I said, dragging him along by his sleeve. "Come on… Boyfriend."

That wiped the wicked grin off his face in a hurry.

-*- -*- -*-

I stuffed my coat into the overhead luggage compartment and looked back at Bobby as he ushered Paul Whitlock down the aisle of the plane. I shook my head. This was not the way I'd hoped to end our trip to Rochester.

Lunch at Mrs. Colson's had been quiet, but oddly enough not particularly awkward or sad. Adam hadn't said much; he looked relieved. Both of them needed a session with their counselor, but I was betting they'd be okay.

We'd been saying our goodbyes when Captain Ross called my cell. The Rochester judge had decided to send Paul back to New York City for arraignment there. Calls had been going back and forth between the two judges, and then to the DA and Major Case. It was all decided by the time the captain called: since Bobby and I were conveniently available, we'd been volunteered to deliver Paul Whitlock.

We'd originally booked a late afternoon flight to JFK, but ended up on the 8:30 PM flight. Sergeant Brower and his partner brought Paul to meet us at the airport.

Paul slid into a window seat, buckled in, and immediately turned to stare out the window. Good. I didn't want to be with him, either. Fortunately the plane wasn't crowded, so we'd been able to reserve seats in the same row on either side of the aisle. I took the other window seat and gestured for Bobby to join me. I tipped up the armrest between the seats – that would give him a few extra inches. These commuter planes bordered on claustrophobic even for people my size; someone as tall as Bobby must dread a flight of any length.

He stowed his coat and lowered himself into the seat. "Thanks," he said, indicating the armrest.

I wiggled over another inch and clicked my seatbelt shut. "Did you get through to Ross?" I asked.

"Mmm-hmm. He's sending a couple of uniforms to meet us at JFK."

"Is he still hostile?" I asked in a low voice. Bobby frowned. "You want me to pick another word? Antagonistic? Touchy?"

"Eames…"

"Look, Bobby, for what it's worth, you're not the one who starts it."

"Not worth much," he mumbled.

"Yes it is," I said. "To me, anyway. He knows what buttons to push to be as annoying as possible, and some days he won't stop pushing them. Why would he do that? I've felt like clocking him at times."

"He does that to you, too?" he asked. I loved that slow blink of Bobby's when he was surprised.

I elbowed him. "Yes, but I usually manage to hold my tongue until he's out of range, whereas you come back with the exact thing that pushes all his buttons, too."

"I'll have to work on that."

"You want me to kick you under the table when I see it happening? You know, like a secret signal?"

He grinned and whispered, "You might enjoy that too much."

The flight attendant made her way down the aisle, closing the overhead compartments and checking seat belts. Paul was still turned toward his window – he'd do us a favor if he ignored us for the whole flight. Bobby and I had gained a lot of ground in our relationship lately; it felt great when he relaxed enough to joke with me.

The plane backed out of the gate and began taxiing. Bobby interrupted my line of thought. "But you know," he said, "it doesn't turn out much better even if I don't take the bait."

"Hmm? Oh." He was still on Ross. "That's why I said it's not you." I didn't want to talk about the captain for the whole trip home – time to change the subject. I glanced at Paul, then leaned close to speak into Bobby's ear. "What do you want to do about Mrs. Colson's invitation for Thanksgiving?"

Bobby looked over, too. The engines were revving loudly enough to keep our conversation private. "Well," he said, shifting a little in his seat to face me, "I'd rather not go on Thanksgiving Day. And, uh, you'll be busy with your family." He looked hesitant as he studied my face. "I thought maybe I'd go… Saturday?"

Dear Bobby. He'd worded it vaguely because he was unsure of me. Mrs. Colson had asked us to come for any part of the holiday weekend that we could, and Adam had jumped in eagerly. I smiled at the memory of him clinging to Bobby's hand. I was used to nieces and nephews begging like that, but that sweet feeling was a new experience for him – there was no reason to resist it.

The captain announced that we'd been cleared for take-off, so I didn't try to answer Bobby until we were well into the air.

The main cabin lights were off, and most people turned off their reading lights. Paul had tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. I stretched up to turn off our lights and said, "So… Saturday after Thanksgiving's good for me, too. We should take my car. I know yours is a much cooler ride, but I'm thinking of all those hours sitting in bucket seats."

"No, it's comfortable," he said. "Really – you'll be fine."

"Are you gonna let me drive?" I immediately bit my lip. That was a girlfriend kind of thing to say, and considering Adam's questions and my teasing about him being my boyfriend, it was terrible timing.

"Sure - both ways if you want," he said. He sounded eager and happy, so maybe he didn't catch my slip.

I didn't want to analyze whether his response was a boyfriend kind of thing to say, so I steered toward a safer subject. "Let's make sure we request the day off," I said, trying to sound casual. "After last Thanksgiving, the department owes us an uninterrupted holiday."

He nodded, and we were quiet for a while. He snuck his leg into the aisle to stretch; I slid off my shoes and stared out at the darkness.

"Do you really want-" Bobby said suddenly, "I mean, you don't have to go. It'll be a long day, away from your family."

I pushed my hair back and scowled at him. I half stood and pulled my knee onto the seat so I was sitting on my foot – that made me almost as tall as him. I wanted to glare at eye level.

"First of all," I said, and then took a deep breath. I reminded myself to keep my voice down. "I get plenty of time with my family, and you know it. I told you I want to go - I meant it." I leaned toward him in my best Major Case Detective intimidation style. "Don't you want me to go?"

"Yes, I do! I just meant… I thought… You know, the long trip, and… You might have other plans…" He was unnerved.

I didn't let myself smile yet. "Second, I like Adam and Mrs. Colson just as much as you do, and it'd be nice to visit them without all this… stress. So I'm going. We're going."

I'd done a good job bullying him – he nodded, his eyes round and nervous.

"All right, that's settled then," I said, and gave him a little space. "Adam's a great kid, and he's got a chance to become a decent, honest man."

"Thanks to Mrs. Colson."

"I agree. You know, it's not a bad place to grow up." I leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "…except for that hideous brown wallpaper she's got all over the house."

It took him a couple of seconds to register what I'd said. I expected him to laugh out loud, but instead he wagged his index finger in my face. "Eames! I'm telling her you said that."

I slid my leg out from under me and dropped back into my seat. "She won't believe you – she likes me better."

That did get a chuckle out of him. We settled as comfortably as we could, and it seemed like a short time until we were descending toward the airport. Paul had fallen asleep – he'd need the rest, considering what was ahead for him.

The attendant was going up and down the aisle collecting trash and telling us to prepare for landing when Bobby turned to me.

"Would you like to… go out sometime… dancing, maybe?"

I felt my mouth fall open, but I couldn't pull myself together enough to close it. Did he just ask me out on a date?

"I've been thinking about it for a while," he said, looking as though he'd like to be pacing and flapping his hands around. "It's not because of what Adam said."

I was still sitting there like a statue.

He continued quickly, "Just for fun – you know, for fun."

Fun: that word clicked. I'd been telling myself for weeks that Bobby and I deserved a diversion from the pressure of work. Here it was. Why should I be surprised that he'd been thinking the same thing?

He'd pulled us into an area that made me nervous. It wasn't department regs that bothered me, but the possibility that we might mess up our partnership. If we start dating, what happens next?

"Ummmm," I said, scrambling for an answer. The noise of the landing gear opening made it hard to think clearly. Fun. Could we really go out just for fun, without making it complicated? We were already complicated! But I had to admit I wanted to try. I was more comfortable with Bobby than with any man I'd known since Joe. He was a good dancer, too.

He was patiently watching me, letting me follow my flailing thoughts. Everyone else in the plane was probably gazing out the windows, trying to identify landmarks as we dropped lower and lower for landing, but Bobby and I sat there blinking at each other.

He must have seen my expression changing, softening. "How about this Friday?" he said.

We jerked forward as the plane touched down and the pilot hit the brakes.

"Bobby, I don't know…"

"There's a - a club in Brooklyn. You'll like it."

I was already thinking of a dress I could wear, which was ridiculous, since I hadn't even made up my mind to accept. I studied the headrest in front of me until the plane stopped at the gate.

Bobby moved across the aisle to sit next to Paul. People were taking their things out of the overhead compartments, but we didn't get up until everyone else was gone. I pulled down Bobby's coat and mine, and led the way up the aisle, trying to clear my mind.

When we reached the security area we saw our welcoming committee: Michael Wollasky with two uniformed cops.

"Hi, kids," Wollasky called out. "How was Rochester?"

"Peachy," I said, and pointed over my shoulder toward Paul. "He's all yours."

The officers came forward. Paul was sullen, but said nothing as they handcuffed him and led him away.

Bobby and I talked for a few minutes with Wollasky, and I felt myself fading. I could have kissed him when he told us we weren't needed any more tonight. We were expected for Paul's arraignment in Judge Thomas's courtroom at nine in the morning - which was early enough that we didn't have to appear at our own squad room until afterward.

Wollasky walked with us to the curb, where a police car was waiting for him. He jokingly offered us a ride in the back seat with Paul, then left with a promise to buy us coffee in the morning.

I hadn't looked at Bobby since getting up from the airplane seat. Now, as we waited for the shuttle bus to the long-term parking lot, I took a deep breath and faced him.

"All right, let's try it," I said. "I could use some fun - we both could." Bobby's eyes lit up and a huge smile appeared. Suddenly he looked like the Bobby I knew seven years ago. I held up both hands to stop whatever it was he was going to say. "But right now I'm starving. Let's find a diner and we can talk about it there."

"'Kay." He clasped his hands behind his back, took a deep breath and straightened up to his full height. I expected him to go into maximum restless mode, but he seemed calm – at least outwardly.

I wasn't calm. I was bouncing from excitement to regret to anticipation to dread – I was only certain that I didn't want to take back my word. Even if it was just to satisfy my curiosity, I wanted to go out with Bobby. I wanted us to have a good time together.

Our discussion at the diner was going to be very interesting.

-*- -*- -*-

The End

(To be continued in another story)

-*- -*- -*-