I'm sure how long I've been in the hospital.

The beeping of the heart monitor next to me seemed to fade into the background.

Private was in the hospital bed, intubated and unconscious. He was in surgery for around five hours, but the bullet was successfully extracted and he was finally stable. Bright daylight poured through the window of the white hospital room, so I knew it had to be well into the next day.

Dr. Rahul Sharma entered the room with a clipboard. He had brown skin, was bald save for the brown hair around the back of his head, and wore a long white coat.

"Ah, hello there," he said in his Asian-Indian accent. "You've been here all night, I hope you'll be going home to get some rest soon."

He circled the bed and started recording Private's vital signs.

"No," I answered, "I'm not going anywhere. He saved my life."

Dr. Sharma exhaled and gave me a sad smile as he made more notes. "I understand that, but I assure you he's in good hands."

I shook my head and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "I don't doubt that. But no."

Dr. Sharma nodded slightly. "Well, his vitals are still stable. With any luck, he'll be awake sometime today. Just give a shout if anything changes."

I nodded as he left the room and looked over at him. He breathed steadily with the help of the ventilator. My mind kept flashing back to the moment I'd seen he'd been shot, and to the moment the paramedics were doing CPR on him. The images haunted me. They were all my fault.

My head turned at the sound of a small knock on the door. Marlene poked her head in.

"Hey," she called softly, "how is he?"

I exhaled and ran a hand over my face. "He's stable. The doctor anticipates that he'll wake up soon."

She entered the room and set the small vase of flowers on the side of the sink in the corner of the room. Kowalski, Rico, Manfredi, and Johnson trailed in after her.

"We can't stay long," Kowalski said. "We had to argue with them to let us all come in at once."

I nodded understandingly, but didn't respond.

"Here," Kowalski continued.

I looked over to see he'd brought me some General Tso's chicken from my favorite Chinese restaurant. I smiled and accepted, though I didn't have much of an appetite at that moment. I set it on the bedside table.

"Thanks, Kowalski," I said without meeting his eyes.

"Skipper," Manfredi started, "you really should go home and get some rest."

I rolled my eyes. "I already told Dr. Needle-Sticker that I'm not going anywhere."

I stared determinedly at Private, ignoring the fact that I could feel all their eyes on me.

"What's the result of the search?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Well," Marlene said with a sigh, "we arrested Rhonda and Savio. We drained the tank and did a thorough sweep of the hidden lair, but we couldn't find Francis or the mysterious red-haired men that you mentioned that helped him. We never found Blu either. Unfortunately further, a lot of the evidence was washed into a sewer drain. We don't have much left to work with."

I sighed. We were so close to catching him.

Manfredi laughed. "But on the bright side, you should've seen the look on North Wind's faces when they returned and realized we'd already accomplished the rescue."

"And hey," Kowalski said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "you two are alive. That's all that matters."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah," I responded softly. "That's all that matters."

— § —

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, but I woke up at the sound of movement. When my vision cleared, I saw Private's hand grasping weakly at the sheets beneath him. My eyes snapped open and I leaned forward. His eyes hadn't opened yet, but his head was slightly moving from side to side and his brow was furrowed as if confused.

"Private?" I called softly. "Private, can you hear me?"

Finally, his eyes slowly opened and circled the room before landing on me. I smiled gently at him.

"Hey," I said, gripping his hand. "It's me. You're all right."

His eyes finally opened completely and his other hand reached up and gently touched the mask on his face that protected the tube going down his throat. I stood up and leaned over him, bracing my other hand on the bed.

"It's all right. You had to be intubated because you had a rough time in surgery. But you're okay now. I'll be right back," I assured him.

I found the front desk of the hospital floor and informed them that Private had woken up. About ten minutes later, a nurse walked in. I'd seen her a couple times today as she came in and did followup checks for Dr. Sharma. She was a thin blonde woman with fair skin and always had her hair in a ponytail, and introduced herself as Nurse Shawna.

"Well, hey there, sweetie," she said gently. "Let's get this tube out okay?"

She instructed Private to inhale deeply, then on the count of three exhale. After the tube had been extracted, Private coughed as if he'd been smoking for thirty years.

"Aw, I know that's not a pleasant feeling, darling," Nurse Shawna said as she reached for the small pitcher of water. After filling a small styrofoam cup, she held it to Private's lips and helped him take a small sip. "Short sips, dear. We have to lubricate that poor throat."

After a few more minutes of helping him with his dry throat, she set the water on the bedside table where he could reach it.

"How are you feeling, darling?" she asked.

Private looked up at her and coughed a few times. Then, almost bashfully, he croaked, "I'm just tired and my throat hurts. And my stomach."

Nurse Shawna nodded. "I'll go get you another dose of pain medicine, sweetie. I'm gonna take very good care of you, don't you worry."

Private watched her as she left and continued staring at the door even after she'd disappeared through it, smiling softly.

"Private?" I asked with a lopsided smile.

His eyes darted back to me and his face went beet red. "Oh, I'm sorry, Skipper. I forgot you were there, heheh," he rasped.

I chuckled. "Well, she is cute. Maybe get her number before you blow this joint, hm?" I asked, gently prodding his arm with my fist.

He laughed nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said raspily, touching the tips of his index fingers together.

I rolled my eyes with a smile and scooted my chair closer to his bed. "Look, in all seriousness, I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life back there."

Private looked over at me. "Well, we're a team aren't we?" he asked timidly.

I thought for a moment. He technically wasn't officially part of the team. He was always meant to just be a trainee. He had no assignments to a unit yet.

I smiled. "Private, I'm going to make absolutely sure of that."

— § —

"Negative."

My face fell as I heard Rockgut's response to my request to have Private be officially made a member of my unit.

"But, sir –"

"No buts!" Rockgut yelled, slamming his fist on his desk. "Because of you that cadet nearly got killed in the line of duty! And you broke into Coney Island to conduct an unauthorized search, nearly getting yourself killed in the process! And then you have the nerve to let that serial killer escape!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, but didn't respond.

Rockgut got to his feet and rounded his desk, stopping next to me. "You listen to me, cupcake. You're lucky I don't demote your ass so hard you'd be stamping files until your soft little hands fall off. The only reason that isn't happening is because you're one of the best detectives I've got despite your colossal screw-up. But you're on thin ice," he prodded my chest with his finger, "Don't you forget that."

He turned and headed back to his chair behind his desk. "Dismissed," he said with a wave of his hand, not looking back up at me.

I stood there in stunned silence. I knew he had a point. It was my fault Private was kidnapped. I did conduct an unauthorized investigation. And in turn, I got myself kidnapped too, which inevitably led to Private nearly being killed. But I knew in my gut that this was wrong.

"Did I not make myself clear, cupcake?" Rockgut snapped, bringing my attention back to him.

I fixed a hard stare at him, and inhaled deeply. What I was about to do would be enough to lose my badge. I relaxed my posture and leaned against his desk on my knuckles, and he squinted his eyes at me in shock.

"Captain Rockgut," I said sternly, trying to remain as respectful as possible in my moment of insubordination, "I've learned a lot from you. You were the one that taught me how to trust my gut. And right now, my gut is telling me that you are wrong. It's telling me that the Private and I were destined to meet, and he was destined to join my team. He is one of the smartest and most talented rookies I've ever met, even moreso than I was at his age. I feel this so strongly in my gut that I even have the guts to talk back to you right now. I'm not leaving this room until you agree to put him in my unit at the end of his training."

Rockgut stared hard back into my eyes, and I could tell he was contemplating slapping me. The moment of silence that hung in the air afterwards felt like hours, like the room had suddenly been sucked of oxygen. Finally, Rockgut leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers.

"Tell you what, cupcake," he started, "I'll decide at the end of his training whether he'll be a good fit for your team. So it's going to be up to you to train him well enough. And if I deem he's fit for this precinct, let alone your unit, I'll let him join your team."

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath, and I finally exhaled and straightened my posture. "I'll take that deal, sir," I said with an accomplished grin.

Rockgut stood and leaned over his desk toward me. "But," he said, raising his finger toward me, "if you ever step out of line like that again, you'll be filing enough papers to kill the rest of the rainforest. You hear me?"

I maintained my grin and reached out, grabbing the hand he was pointing at me with and shaking it. "Understood, sir."

Rockgut snatched his hand back and slumped back into his chair. "Good. Now get out of my office before I change my mind."

With a final salute, I turned and left his office with confidence. That was probably the first and last time I'd ever speak to Captain Rockgut like that.

But it was worth it.

— § —

"Absolutely not."

I shook my head and put my turn signal on as we made our way to my house. It had been three days since Private was admitted to the hospital, and he'd finally been released. Marlene was in the passenger seat, having helped me get Private and his things to my car.

"Oh, come on, Skipper," Marlene begged. "Lighten up. Private deserves a welcome back party after what he did."

"I agree," I responded, pulling us onto the final road toward Central Park Estate. "But not hosted by Ringtail. He'll keep the neighborhood up all night, and he doesn't even care about Private. He just wants an excuse to throw a party."

Marlene huffed impatiently. "Well, the rest of us do care about Private, regardless of how Julien feels. And what am I supposed to tell them when we don't show up? They're already waiting on us."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know. Tell him I'd rather get kidnapped by Blowhole again than listen to his noise all night."

Marlene smacked my arm and I smacked hers back.

"Hey!" I snapped. "I'm driving here."

"Skipper?" Private's voice called from the back.

I looked at him in the rearview mirror. "Yes, Private?"

"If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind going to the party. I haven't met the neighbors yet," he said.

I looked over at Marlene, who crossed her arms and looked at me smugly. I groaned.

"Fine," I caved. "But only if you promise to get me drunk enough to forget the night."

— § —

The party was as expected.

The whole neighborhood was there, congratulating Private on surviving an encounter with the most notorious serial killer of the time, and thanking him for saving me. I stood as far away from the sound system as possible. Julien's tacky techno music would give me a headache if I endured it for too much longer. I downed my third shot to try to keep myself from going insane.

"So, what happened to that Dr. Blowhole guy and his goons?" Mason asked in his posh English accent. Though I wonder where he got the accent as rumor has it he's actually from Canada. He and his mute twin brother had joined me standing against the far wall. They had brown, close cropped hair and tan skin, were only a couple inches taller than me, and their ears seemed too big for their heads. They weren't a fan of Julien's taste in music either.

"Well," I started, setting my glass on the tray a waitress brought around, "Dr. Blowhole and his red-haired minions were never found. Rhonda Wallrush and Savio Conda are going on trial soon, but attorneys and the press have no doubts they'll be charged and sent to the high security Hoboken Prison."

Phil said something in sign language, but I had to wait for Mason to translate.

"Good question, Phil," Mason said. "Phil was wondering if Rhonda was the same one that duped Marlene a couple years back? She seemed awfully familiar when we saw her picture in the news."

I nodded. "Yep. Apparently, she stole Kowalski's invention so that they could use it to finish their secret lair. His invention was capable of cutting soundlessly through materials as thick as steel, so it was effective in crafting their lair quickly and efficiently without making too much noise."

"And what of this Savio character?" Mason asked.

I shuddered a little. "We discovered he's a cannibal. The organs that Dr. Blowhole's victims were missing would be –"

Mason held up a hand. "I get the idea," he said, a sickly paleness washing over his face, as well as Phil's.

"We weren't able to catch the other woman that helped him either, the one called Blu. But we did discover using the CCTV footage that Blu is just an alias. Her real name is Henrietta Bloom. She's a grifter and wanted in several states. She even tried to run for senator in Delaware but her campaign failed when the authorities discovered her true identity. I'm not sure what her motive to help Dr. Blowhole would've been though."

Mason rubbed his chin. "Yes, curious," he pondered. "Well, I'm glad to see you and Private made it out all right."

I smiled. I hadn't realized he would introduce himself to everyone as Private. The name did suit him well. He'd earned it.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," I said. "I just wish we could've gotten them all."

Phil signed again.

"Phil wants to know what you're going to do now," Mason translated.

I thought for a moment. "About the case? I'm not sure. But I do know as of right now, I'm just happy to be alive."

— § —

True to my word, Kowalski and Rico had to help me to bed for having had one too many drinks to drown out Julien's deafening music.

I had no idea what time it was when I started to wake up, but it was clearly well into the next morning, and my hangover wasn't doing me any favors.

"Ah, there you are, Skipper," Kowalski said as I entered the kitchen after my longer-than-usual shower. He sat at the bar counter with a laptop. "I kept the coffee hot for you. Might wanna drink it black today."

I ran a hand over my face as I pulled the coffee pot from the coffeemaker, finally seeing the time for the first time in its LED display. It was a little after 0800.

"Thanks for letting me sleep," I said with a yawn, taking a sip of coffee from my mug.

"I figured you'd need it," Kowalski said, halfway closing his laptop. "Besides, it's our day off. I'd say after everything that happened this week, some extra shuteye is necessary."

"Where's Private and Rico?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

"They're out in the garage," Kowalski answered with a smile. "Rico wanted to teach him how to fix cars."

I laughed. "He's letting Private work on his Barbie-mobile?" I asked, arching my brow in disbelief. Despite being the craziest of all of us, Rico's car was a small pink bug with yellow flowers. I don't know why he likes it so much, but he's very picky with who he lets drive it.

Kowalski held up his hands. "I doubt he's actually letting him touch it," he said with a laugh.

"Fair enough," I said after another sip of coffee. I grimaced at its bitter taste, but it was helping the hangover.

"Anything new on the case?" I asked, though I didn't try to hide my doubt.

Kowalski opened his laptop and opened his work email. "Well, there's nothing on finding him, but his foster care file was finally released to us."

I continued sipping my coffee, not really feeling like I should get my hopes up. "All right, let me know if it says anything important."

Kowalski started to look through it, and for a few minutes didn't say anything. I flinched when he suddenly sat upright, the color draining from his face.

"Kowalski . . .?" I said, setting my mug down. The look of shock and horror on his face was enough to sober me the rest of the way up. He didn't respond and I reached over and slapped him. "Kowalski!"

He shook his head and looked at me. His mouth dropped open to respond, but only a high pitched sound came out as if he was imitating a balloon letting out air. He turned the laptop to face me. I studied the screen carefully, trying to figure out what he was on about. Dr. Blowhole's parents were deceased, and no other known relatives were available to care for him. My eyes landed on the section called Other Known Family. There was only one name listed in that section. Dr. Blowhole had a sister.

Her name hit me like a sack of fish, and I looked back up at Kowalski, who was still staring in disbelief.

Dr. Blowhole's sister was his long-time unreciprocated crush, Doris Phillips, who, as the records indicated, was previously known as Doris Felipo.