Warnings: Sad ending.

In a bright hospital, in a small room stands a sea of blue. Police officers. They wait for the verdict from the doctors working on their missing officer. To see if their hard work has paid off even a little. To know if Officer Jamie Reagan will make it through the night. Live, and maybe come back to them one day. It breaks Henry's heart to be sitting in a situation like this again.

Bad enough when it happened with Joe. Back then, it'd been the shock of a raid gone bad and the sudden death of a nephew, son, and brother. This, this is torture. Knowing they got Jamie in time, knowing he might still make it, and also knowing his mind's just not here.

Henry scans the waiting room and sees his family huddled close to each other for comfort. Well, excepting Danny. Poor boy can't stop pacing, or going outside to hide his sobs from his sons (who aren't fooled in the least). Henry wishes he could do the same, but this family needs someone to be strong, and it's not fair to put that on Francis. Not now. Right now, his boy needs the leeway to grieve like a father.

Once the troops are gone.

Until then, Frank has to be a pillar of wisdom and unbending fortitude. One that all the other policemen and women can gather around. It's a hard job, but Henry knows Francis is up to the task. He wouldn't have put him in on the list for commission otherwise. It's a heavy burden to bear, and not many can take it.

Francis can, and has.

"Excuse me, Commissioner?" an greying doctor says from the doorway.

All eyes focus on him, and Henry gives the man credit for not even flinching under the judging eyes.

"Yes, doctor?" Francis says, pulling himself up tall.

"We just got through with Officer Reagan." The doctor clutches his board and papers. "You got to him just in time, Commissioner. He'll live."

A wave of relief goes through the crowd, but there's a flat inflection in that last word. One which Henry catches, as does Francis.

"Doctor?" his boy asks.

"He was bad, Commissioner. Very bad. Multiple lesions, dehydration, starvation, contusions, to name a few. We hooked him up to an IV drip. Given time, his body will recover itself."

"But his mind," Francis supplies for the doctor.

"His mind…I'll be frank, sir, he might never come out of it. It's too soon to tell though." The doctor sighs. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Not your fault," Francis says. The doctor nods and Francis turns to the officers. "You all did above and beyond tonight. And I thank you for that. My family, personally thanks you for it."

Everyone looks at each other, probably wanting to say something, but not knowing what. Hoping someone else will. At last, Renzulli steps forward. That doesn't surprise Henry. The man is a leader through and through. He'll do the difficult things, so his men and women can have resolution, justice.

"Course, sir," Renzulli says. "Be praying for him."

"Thank you," Francis says, and his voice wavers for just a moment. Something Henry can see the officers' notice. They shuffle nervously and then, as if led by an unseen hand, they all start to leave. Bits of 'call us if you need to, sir' and 'he's strong' are whispered by a few. Most have trouble just looking at Francis, standing big and unmovable. It's an impressive sight that lasts for as long as the officers are there.

As soon as they're gone, Francis sags, his broad shoulders hunched in. He barely makes it into a seat before his legs give out. This isn't the commission anymore. No, this is a father. A father who can take no more losses in his family. First his wife, then his son, Joe, now Jamie. Henry isn't sure Francis will be able to handle it, if Jamie doesn't wake up.

Henry's not sure he will.

There's only so much heartache a person, a family, cope with before enough is enough. And Henry's pretty sure the Reagan family's just met their limit.

"I'll go see if they're allowing visitors," Linda says quietly. Henry blesses her for it. Right now, she's the only one of them that can really do anything. But Danny's eyes get that determined light in them again. He's found a new mission to distract him. Henry won't stop him. He knows the need for action. He's spent years trying to get rid of it.

"I'm coming with you," Danny says. Linda nods with a sad smile and they both leave. Nickie pulls her two cousins close. They huddle in and whisper things too low for Henry to catch. He lets them be. Francis is the one who will need him the most right now.

"Francis," he says, sitting in the chair next to him.

His boy lifts tired, tired eyes to meet his. "He has to wake up, Pop."

"He will."

Francis glances at the kids. "Of course."

Henry gets the message loud and clear. Francis doesn't think Jamie will be waking up anytime soon, if at all, but he won't say it in earshot of his niece and nephews. Henry reaches over and lays a firm hand on Francis' arm. It's shaking. Henry squeezes it. "He will make it, Francis."

And he believes that with all his heart.

Jamie is their steady rock. The one in the family who is the peacemaker, the diplomat. He keeps Danny and Erin from ripping into each other too much. He gives Nickie, Sean, and Jack someone to look up to at any time (Danny's good, but he's no white sheep and the kids know it). He's the last reminder Francis has of his wife. He gives Henry hope for this generation.

And now all of that might never be seen again?

Henry just can't accept that.

He won't.

Jamie's needed too much for God to call him home now.

"Frank," Linda says, suddenly beside them. "They'll let you in for a little bit. Room 207. I tried to get us all, but they're still wary of Jamie's condition."

Francis nods and pushes out of the chair. No one begrudges him the right to see Jamie. No one's going to complain about the restrictions, though everyone's eyes follow Francis as he leaves the waiting room. Henry does more than that. He walks with Francis to the door of room 207.

Francis freezes at the sight of it. His large hands curl into fists that tremble. Not a word escapes. Henry moves closer anyway. He can read the sorrow and fear in the tense set of his son's shoulders. And who wouldn't be afraid?

It's such a simple door to hold so much meaning. To open it will mean seeing exactly what Sanfino has done. It's one thing to hear about it, but to see it makes it real. There'll be no going back after this. Henry knows that all too well. He gently pushes Francis toward the plain door.

"He's going to need you, son," Henry tells him.

Francis stiffens at those words, takes in a deep breath, takes another one (slower), and then pulls the door open. He steps inside, leaving the door open, probably so Henry can look in too. Henry stays where he is. This is Francis' turn. Henry will stand here to support him, but Francis has to do this on his own right now.

His boy stops a few feet in, hands unclenching, limp. "Hey, Jamie," he says.

He stands there for a couple of minutes, taking in God only knows what. At last:

"We missed you, son," Francis says as he disappears the entire way in.

And that's it, folks. The story for now. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for leaving it like this. I'm really sorry, but it came ot me this way. I will tell you that a sequel is coming in the summer. I haven't time to do it justice right now.