A/N: I'm sure this one felt like it was abandoned, but it wasn't. If anyone remembers this story or this show, I'll be happy to hear your feedback on this. Mom, this one may just be for you...I think it's finished now.

Chapter 4

There were times in her marriage to Jim Dunbar that she had thought about bringing another male into her life. This was not what she'd had in mind. She knew that when Jim returned from Morristown and The Seeing Eye that he'd be bringing a dog. She just didn't realize how large and doglike the dog would be.

"This is Hank," beamed Jim as he pulled her into a quick hug at the Port Authority terminal before turning immediately back to the dog. "He's just, we're just," he floundered as he tried to articulate how things had changed over the past few weeks. "It's crazy, Chris. I could actually live like this." He sighed. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to say that."

She reached down to kiss his cheek quickly before grabbing his bag from the collection on the ground behind them. "That's wonderful, Jimmy. I'm so glad it's been a good experience." He stood with Hank's harness in his right hand. Shielding her eyes from the sun she finally took him in. The policeman's ramrod posture replaced the self-conscious slump she'd almost become accustomed to over the past ten months. Someone had even cut his hair. Short. On-the-job short. She absently reached up to the nape of his neck with her free hand. She'd never become accustomed to the shaggy waves that came as he let that go, too.

"Oh, yeah." His hand found hers. "I got tired of the frat boy feel."

She laughed a little as their entwined hands dropped to their sides. "You definitely look more like yourself."

"I feel more like myself." His hand found its way up her arm to her cheek but pulled back after the slightest of touches. She noted how much softer his hands felt as they brushed across her. "Christie, I'm so sorry."

She pulled his free hand to her lips and kissed the smooth tips of his fingers. "Oh, Jim. Not here or now, okay?" She straightened herself to match his carriage. "It's cold. Why don't you and Hank take us home?"

He reached over and took his bag from her and slung it across his body. "Is the A train okay with you?"

"Sure. I'd rather not break down on the C, especially on Hank's homecoming day."

They made their way onto the platform and found a seat on the stopped car. Christie silently watched him clench and unclench his hands as he carefully counted the nine stops to High Street in Brooklyn. She waited for him to stand and move to the door with Hank at his side. Their fluid movements almost covered how nervous she knew Jimmy was by his absolute silence. Still, she allowed the team of her husband and his new companion to take the lead. To her pleasure and slight surprise, Jimmy found his bearings quickly. He directed them to the most appropriate and direct exit path and started down Cadman Plaza East toward Washington Street and their loft.

A few weeks before they'd arrived, Jim had filled her in on the rules to handling Hank. She'd cleared out the spare room with help from her father. She was surprised to find him sympathetic to the cause. While he hadn't really said a word since Jim had been injured, he readily offered to help when Christie mentioned clearing out a space for Hank's things. He showed up with two guys and a bunch of supplies from PetSmart. She saw a brochure from The Seeing Eye sticking out of his back pocket, so she knew he'd even done research. She still wasn't sure about his motivation or if she'd tell Jim. Nonetheless, she hoped things were up to Jim and Hank's expectations.

She'd never been a dog person, so the idea of this very large one living with them in her very nice loft wasn't the most comfortable one for her. But after watching Jim and Hank for only the train ride home, she couldn't believe the difference in her husband. If this dog could make that happen, he'd be welcome in her home.

Jim inhaled sharply when he stepped inside. Hank did too. She had to admit that they did sort of resemble one another. Together they explored the rooms, Jimmy showing Hank the place that would be his. As Hank roamed around his room, Jim turned back to Christie, who was waiting cautiously outside.

"This is great, Chris." He reached for her hand. "I know this is a lot to ask," he started.

She stopped him. "No, Jimmy. He's part of your life, and he's welcome. Honestly."

His hands found her hair, her face. He kissed her softly, first on the neck, then full on the mouth. She groaned softly, and he felt himself responding to her. Entangled, they moved toward the bedroom. He heard Hank, luckily out of the harness at this point, standing at attention.

"Hank, stay," Jimmy managed as they tumbled into the bedroom, losing clothing along the way.

Afterward, she wanted him to stay in bed, holding her like he'd done at the beginning and even a few times since. But he didn't. He pulled on his boxers and went to the jingle of Hank's collar outside their door.

"He's probably lonely. He's used to sleeping in the same room as me." He opened the door and allowed Hank to come in. "It's technically allowed as long as he stays in his own bed."

Christie nodded, then remembered she needed to give verbal cues. "Okay." She pulled on her robe, not wanting Hank to see the Full Monty just yet. "Maybe he's hungry. I am."

"Yeah, probably." He knelt beside Hank, rubbing his neck and belly. "Can you help me?" he asked without turning back to her.

"Sure." She followed them into the guest room and carefully showed him around the room, pointing out all the extras her father had insisted upon.

"Shit, Christie. This is amazing." He turned to her again. She wasn't sure what he was expecting, seeing as he was in underwear and she was still only wearing a short robe. They'd gone directly to bed starting fully clothed from the same position about an hour earlier. Instead, he filled Hank's bowls with food and water. Christie followed him into the kitchen.

"Do you want me to cook?" She opened the pantry and peered inside.

"Don't go to any trouble for me."

"Jimmy!" She swatted him with a dish towel.

"I mean, I could eat."

"My cooking or someone else's?"

"Craft?"

"Um, okay. But we'd need a reservation."

"It's Monday."

"But still, Babe. Tourists. It's two weeks until Christmas."

"Right. That's why I made us one at 8:30. The car will be here at 7:45."

"Jim!" He hadn't made them a dinner reservation for at least two years. He usually left that up to her and her "connections." Instead of bowling him over with an excited embrace, she gave him a restrained kiss on the cheek. "Does Hank have a suit?"

"I explained to him that you and I needed a little time to ourselves tonight. He understands and will be fine here for a few hours." He pulled on clothes, shoes and an overcoat. "I'm going to take him out for a little bit now, though." He reached down to help Hank into his harness. "You can have the bathroom first." He grinned back at her and they were out the door.

Later, she realized that night that he almost looked the part again, that she could visualize the gold shield clipped firmly on his belt weeks before he even brought it up. To his credit, he waited until Christmas and New Year's had passed. As the one year anniversary of the shooting approached, she knew it would inevitably bring up emotions for both of them. Before Hank, she wouldn't in a million years have thought this would be the result.

On that morning in February, he sat down beside her at breakfast. She'd taken the day off, just to spend it with him, however he wanted it. Hank was right beside him, his left hand on the dog's head as before he presented his case. They were both unusually quiet, like Hank knew the severity of what Jim was about to say.

"I've thought about this a long time, Chris, and I want to go back to work."

She took this in without thinking completely through it. "Okay. Did you have something in mind?"

"No, I mean I want to go back on the job."

She stopped to think, trying not to say the wrong thing. "Have you talked to anyone about this, I mean realistically?"

Jim shrugged. "Not really, but I know the Army's starting to allow seriously wounded soldiers to return to active duty. They've got guys back in Iraq with prosthetic legs."

"But this is a little different, Jim."

"Not with Hank. Not really. I can still clear cases. My brain works the same as it always did. There's adaptive technology for pretty much anything else."

"That's not all there is to it, though. You were a detective when you were shot. What if you're in a situation like that again and you or your partner is in danger because you can't see what's going on?"

He pushed his chair back and stood. "You're supposed to be on my side."

She stood, too, but Hank moved between them. She tried not to take it personally, but sometimes she wondered. "I'm always on your side, Jim, but I'm trying to be practical."

"I think I can do it, and I think I can prove that they have to let me." He sat down again, as though the air was leaking from his argument and anger.

"They do have to let you return to a job for which they can give you adequate accommodations, like in the office at One PP or as an instructor at the academy." She'd known this was coming as he'd gotten more and more independent, and she'd done her own research.

"You've looked into it already," he realized.

"Without bringing any attention to me or us, but yes. I have."

"When?"

"The day after you got back from Morristown."

"Christie." He whispered. "God. Really?"

"Yeah. I knew as soon as I saw you."

"Will they reinstate me?" he asked her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They don't have to. Not fully, but you can fight it. We can fight it. And who else better to try but you?"

"You'll help me?"

"Jimmy. Of course."

"I can't do this without you." He reached for her hand now, and Hank stood, his head brushing against their entwined arms. "Or you, Hank. I need you too."

Nine months and an innumerable amount of billable hours later, Jim stirred in the bed beside her in the darkness. He was breathing hard, sweating. Another dream, no doubt. He was vague about them, but she could guess what they were about.

"Jim? You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." He let his hand brush hers before he sat up and reached for the clock.

"Five thirty-two am" the tinny female voice of the alarm clock informed them.

"Hank." Jim called and the dog was instantly at his side.

Christie propped herself up on her elbows, watching his muscular back in the semi-darkness. He sat there only a moment longer before he was up, gym bag and harness in hand, and then they were gone. She tried to go back to sleep for the forty-five minutes left before her alarm would sound, but neither of them had slept much at all with Jim tossing and turning all night. And the aroma of the coffee he'd made before he left wafted into the bedroom.

She finally gave up and got out of bed. They'd picked out an outfit for him the night before, but as she looked over it, she didn't like it. She switched the shirt and tie. Then the socks. Finally contented, she grabbed her shower and dressed in a simple sheath before he made it back. She was nearly ready to go a full 90 minutes before she normally got out of bed. She retrieved a coffee mug and sat at the bar.

He returned, silently unhooked and watered Hank, and went straight to the shower. She stood at the door and watched him shave, not wanting to disturb him. Suddenly, her dress seemed all wrong for the day, for the weather, for everything. She changed into a polka dot swing skirt with a black pullover and a pale jacket while she waited for him. Jimmy emerged from the bathroom in the blue shirt she'd chosen, the dark tie around his neck. She felt confident that he could still do the job, and he definitely still looked the part. She still worried, though, as she watched him knot the tie. He shrugged on the dark jacket and head toward the front room. He collected his bag with laptop and cane inside. Then, he opened the drawer to retrieve the badge and gun.

The gun had been the final sticking point in his reinstatement, and she still wasn't sure how smart it was for him to have it. But he'd insisted, and they'd finally given in. For now.

She came up behind him, casually, like she'd just walked into the room. She silently thanked Hank for not giving her away. "Big day, huh?"

"Yep." He always got so quiet when he was nervous.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

"I don't think that'd look so good, getting dropped off."

"Guess not." She kissed him, wanting to say more.

"Alright Hank."

"Good luck," she called out behind them.

"Thanks," he replied. But he and Hank were almost already halfway out the door. And she guessed she knew now where she stood. Again.

FIN