The light from the full moon shown through the window and on to Hank Stanley's face as he slept at the station. It would only be a short while before the moon advanced in the sky so that it would no longer shine in his eyes and all he needed to do to be able to go back to sleep was roll over but for the moment he was awake. Taking a moment he listened and he could quickly tell that something was a miss. He had been at the station long enough to recognize the sounds each of his men make when they were sleeping soundly. Chet had one snore when he was on his side and another when he rolled over on his back and when he rolled on his back it was usually because of a stressing dream. Marco had more of a hum to his snore and Johnny was known to mumble in his sleep. A quiet mumble usually meant he was dreaming about a nurse he was either dating or trying to date. Anything louder and he would soon be waking up from some kind of a nightmare. Roy was a late night snacker and usually had his stomach rumbling. It didn't take Hank long to realize that the stations late night symphony was missing its base section, Mike's deep rhythmic snore.

Rising his head to get a look across the way he could quickly see that Mike was in his bed and the moon light was enough to see that he lay on his back with his eyes wide open, but more than that the moon light reflected off the moisture trailing from his eyes down his cheeks and into his pillow. There were no sobs now but Hank knew they were coming, they'd be quiet and if he were to say anything Mike would just roll over and hide his face while he dried his eyes with the back of his hands and then later when he thought Hank had gone back to sleep he would get up and go to another room to work out his sorrow on his own.

Hank had had several long office conversations with his engineer and Mike had opened up enough that he knew his tears were for his father who had died after being trapped in a building after an explosion nearly six months ago. His anguish came from too many things left unsaid in combination with not nearly enough information about how his father actually died leaving the imagination to run wild and think the worse. No matter what Hank had tried he had not been able to find the answers his engineer and friend needed. That information just wasn't in the systems at his disposal.

As Hank silently rolled over and got comfortable again he thought back on that day. He had been in his office cussing under his breath about receiving the wrong typewriter ribbons again when the door bell rang. He had gone to the door expecting it to be the right ribbons being delivered only to find the Department Chaplain along with the condolence officer on call. Instantly Hank had known it was bad news that was being delivered and the addition of a replacement engineer told him who the news was for. He had known at the time that Mike's mother was battling cancer but they had been optimistic and this was not the way he would have expected Mike to get the news if his mother's passing.

As soon as the chaplain stepped into the bay everyone froze and Hank remembered feeling sorry for the guy to always be received in that manner. Hank could still remember the was every eye in the station turned to Mike when the replacement engineer followed behind and the pale look on his friends face as his knees failed him and he lowered himself to the running board of the engine he had been polishing.

"I regret to inform you," the condolence officer began and Hank remembered thinking they should have pulled him in the office first because Mike was such a private man but Hank knew they told him in front of the rest of the crew to give him the support of friends at his time of sorrow. Hank remembered that he hadn't even been able to get to his engineer's side to place a hand on his shoulder before the condolence officer finished. "That your father Michael Jaron Stocker Sr. was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital after being removed from the rubble of the explosion at the apartment building in Fullerton California."

"My da- Dad, b- but what was he doing there?" Mike had asked a question among hundreds that were still waiting to be answered.

Stoker home in Whittier CA