A/N: I've kind of just started watching LOUK, but I'm already really attached to Matt and I know what happens to him, so I felt that this had to be done. I tried to look stuff up to keep everything accurate, and I apologize for anything that's not.

Also, I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Law and Order: UK. If I did, Jamie would never have been allowed to leave.

Chapter 1: Ronnie

Matt saw the gun in the window of the black SUV before you did, and he reacted immediately, his first instinct to grab for Kaden and Alesha and get them on the ground, out of harm's way. But you reacted almost as fast, and the only thing on your mind was Matt. He was risking his life, thinking of others first as he always did, but you'd be damned if you let anything happen to him. And so, barely a split second after he got to Alesha, at the same instant that a rapid series of small flashes from the car window told you that the gunman had fired, you reached Matt and pushed him down. And then something slammed into you with enormous force, flinging you backward onto the ground, and suddenly there was blood everywhere. You could hear Matt's frantic voice, knew he was all right, but you – you were certainly not all right, because you couldn't move. And then you could see Matt, he was right next to you, looking down at you, and he was saying something – it could have been your name, but you weren't really sure – and you couldn't hear him, you couldn't hear anything properly. Your vision was beginning to blur, and then you realized that your chest hurt and suddenly realized that that was where the blood was coming from.

You've been shot, Ronnie, you tell yourself dimly, waiting for it to sink in. You've been shot because you took the bullets that were meant for Matt. You saved Matty.

Your last coherent thought before you sink into oblivion is that there are much worse ways to go…

The first thing you're aware of is a sound, small, persistent, rhythmic. Truth be told, it's almost annoying. You wonder if maybe it'll stop after a while, but it never does, so you decide to try to ignore it. Instead, you busy yourself with the task of figuring out just where you are. After a long moment, you remember that sound, and you can only think of one place where it might belong: in a hospital. What the hell are you doing in a hospital? No, wait. Hang on…

You were shot. That was it. Outside the courthouse.

An image comes to mind, one that now seems to be permanently engrained in your memory: the car, the hand in the window with the gun, Matt pushing the kid and Alesha out of the way, Matt putting himself in danger...

Suddenly, you realize that there's another sound in the room, somewhere nearby. It sounds like deep, even breathing.

Slowly, using a lot more effort than it seems like you should have to, you open your eyes – and there's your boy, slumped over in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep.

Matt looks awful. His face is pale and lined with worry, not quite as youthful and innocent as you're used to seeing. His clothes are rumpled, and his usually carefully styled hair is sticking up in all directions. There are dark circles under his eyes, making you wonder if he's gotten any sleep before now. You're not sure how long you've been here, but it's been at least a few days judging by Matt's stubble. Four large coffee cups sit on the small nightstand next to him, and the bin underneath it is overflowing with many more.

As you watch, it becomes obvious that Matt's not sleeping soundly. His eyes flicker rapidly under his lids, and after a while he begins to whimper quietly, his head moving from side to side. He's even talking in his sleep.

"No… no! Hang on… please, Dad…"

You frown slightly at that. As far as you know, Matt never had a good relationship with his father. He all but called the man a bastard once, and you're more than a little sure that Matt was abused as a child. You always wondered if his father was behind it, but you never wanted to ask. You couldn't change the past, and you figured it would be better for Matt if he didn't have to relive it, so you settled for looking after the kid as best you could and not bringing up any painful memories if you could avoid it. But maybe Matt couldn't avoid it. Could he really still be having nightmares about his father?

"Please hang on! Please…" Even in his sleep, he sounds frightened, close to tears. But now you're even more confused. Even in a dream, why would he be talking to his father like that?

It's when he starts shaking that you decide to wake him. This might be the first time he's slept in days, but you can't leave this boy that you love like a son at the mercy of his nightmare. The way he's draped over the arm of his chair, his hand is hanging down right next to your bed. You try to reach for it, but your own hand feels strangely heavy. After a long moment, though, you finally succeed in gripping his forearm.

"Matt." Your voice is weak, but it's enough to wake him nonetheless.

"Dad?"

The sleepy utterance is fearful, almost childlike, and as you look up into a pair of very confused blue eyes, you're startled to realize that you're Matt's surrogate father just as much as he's your surrogate son.

Suddenly realizing what woke him, Matt bolts upright in his chair, leaning over you, eyes wide with disbelief. "D- Ronnie?"

You're well aware that he just stopped himself from calling you 'Dad' again, and you realize that it must be because he doesn't know just how strong your paternal feelings for him are. Makes sense, unfortunately. It's not like the two of you have ever sat down and had a chat about your feelings.

Matt's still watching you, apparently at a loss for words as he satisfies himself that you're still breathing, that you haven't left him, that you're really awake. In all the years you've known him, you've rarely seen him look so vulnerable, so afraid. You wish there was some way to tell him how sorry you are for letting him spend so long worrying that he was going to lose the only real dad he's ever known, but you can't think of anything that sounds nearly good enough and it's hard to talk anyway, so you do the next best thing: you hug him.

He seems surprised at first – truth be told, you are, too – but he relaxes quickly, holding onto you tightly. It hurts a bit, but you don't care. You can hear him sniffling quietly as he presses his face against your shoulder, so you do your best to reassure him.

"It's all right, Matty. I'm not going anywhere, son."

"You promise?" he asks in a small, slightly muffled voice. He still sounds so childlike, telling you just how harsh a toll the fear of the last few days has taken on him. He spent probably his entire childhood without a proper father, must have learned to live without needing one. But now he has you. He needs you.

"I promise," you answer him gently, needing him to know how much you love him, and that, if you have your way, you'll never leave him.

The entire time you're in the hospital, Matt hardly leaves your side. You were worried about him at first; it was obvious that he hadn't been taking care of himself. He was too worried about you. Now, though, he looks much better. He's taken to sleeping on a cot that had been put in your room when your doctor and nurses had realized that he wasn't planning on leaving. Why he hadn't used it before you woke up is beyond you, but he's using it now, and that's what really matters. He seems to be eating real meals now, too, instead of just drinking coffee; sometimes he eats in the hospital cafeteria, and sometimes Alesha brings him something better when she stops in to visit – which happens suspiciously often. Watching the way they interact with each other, you quickly decide that if the two of them aren't an item by the time you leave the hospital, you'll have failed in your job as a surrogate father.

You aren't the only one who sees it, either. Your daughters have stopped by a few times – bringing your newborn grandson with them, of course – and, as a whole, your relationship with both of them is better than it's been in years. You're pretty sure Matt had something to do with that. You know they've spent quite a bit of time talking to him, and you have a strong feeling that he was the one who told them how long you've been sober, as well as assuring them of how much of a dad you've been to him. The fact that they like Matty so much – and, let's face it, who doesn't? – seems to work in your favor, and you've had several conversations about where your relationship is now and where it's going. You didn't even have to grovel and apologize as much as you thought you'd have to; seems Matt took care of that, too.

One day, Matt is sleeping on the cot on the far side of your room when your daughters come in with the baby, claiming the two chairs on either side of your bed and depositing the little boy in your waiting arms. As you hold him, rocking him gently, the girls fawn over Matt, going on and on about – in their words – how adorable and sweet and lovely he is. Then Alesha enters, and you know from the looks on your girls' faces that you don't need to tell them that Matt's just as taken as they are. The smile on Alesha's face when she sees him sleeping there gives it away immediately, and her frequent glances over her shoulder at him only serve to further cement the idea in everyone's minds. And as if that isn't enough, Matt's surprisingly shy, goofy grin when he wakes up and sees her leaves both of your daughters giggling madly, unable to explain why without embarrassing the two people in question. Watching the two of them that for the rest of the afternoon, you find it ridiculously hard to believe that neither of them is aware of the other's feelings. When Matt gets flirty, Alesha flirts right back; every time he thinks she's not looking, Matt unconsciously fixes his hair, obviously trying to impress her; when his hand brushes against hers – which happens far too often to be accidental – she bites her lip and smiles. And yet, unbelievably, neither of them notices.

This may be harder than you thought.

The next day when you're alone with Matt, you take to questioning him about Alesha. You're not exactly being subtle, but you figure that at the rate they're going, subtlety won't have them married until they're fifty. So you try a different approach.

"How do you feel about Alesha?"

Matt nearly chokes on his tea, and then, far too late, tries to play it cool. "What do you mean? We're mates. Always have been. Why would anything be different now?"

"No need to get defensive, I was just asking," you answer casually.

Predictably, Matt's answer is, "I'm not being defensive!" Realizing his mistake, he takes a large gulp of his drink.

"Burn your tongue?" you ask in amusement as his eyes water.

He nods dejectedly.

"Maybe you should tell me the truth, then. How do you really feel about Alesha?"

"She… I…" He flounders for a moment. "You know… I – I like her, a bit…"

"A bit?" you laugh incredulously. "A bit? Matty, mate, she walks into a room and you all but fall off your bloody chair. I think that's more than a bit."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "All right, all right. More than a bit. I like her more than a bit."

"How much more?" You've just seen Alesha appear in the doorway behind Matt. He doesn't know she's there. You hope she keeps it that way until he can answer your question properly. "You like Alesha how much more than a bit?" That gets her attention, and she freezes where she stands.

"I…" He mutters something too quiet to be intelligible.

"You what?"

"I love her! Okay? I love Alesha. Happy?"

You don't answer, because Alesha has just stepped into the room. "You what?" She's staring at him in shock, looking like she's holding her breath.

Matt looks simultaneously hopeful and downright terrified. "Alesha! I… I…" He looks at you for help, but you don't offer any. So he turns back to Alesha and says very slowly, "I love you…"

She stares at him for a moment longer – and then she takes hold of the front of his jacket and pulls him to his feet, standing very, very close. Baby blue eyes stare unblinking into warm brown ones for a long moment, until at last Alesha breaks the silence.

"I love you, too."

And then she pushes him back against the wall and proceeds to snog him senseless. You try not to watch – after all, he's practically your kid – but something keeps drawing your gaze back to them. You've never seen two people so obviously, hopelessly, head-over-heals in love. The way they're holding each other, tightly, protectively, as if they'll never let go, tells you everything that you need to know. Matt's going to look after Alesha, sure – and she's going to look after him right back.

Matt Devlin and Alesha Phillips were made for each other.

…But that doesn't mean you're going to let them stand there and make out in front of you anytime they please. "Ahem."

They don't seem to notice.

"Ahem."

Finally, they come up for air, beaming brilliantly. Matt grins at you, well aware that this wouldn't have happened without your intervention. "Thanks, mate."

You shrug nonchalantly. "What are surrogate dads for, anyway?"

You can see the exact moment when Matt realizes that he now has both the woman he loves and a father who loves him, and the smile on his face when he does could have lit up the darkest room.