Titans

The hot dog stand was a New York cliché to be sure.

But Fusco and Carter found themselves drawn to the same miniscule stainless steel eatery almost every day because it delivered both convenience (right across the street from the precinct house) and quality (rib-sticking and no heartburn counted for a lot in the hectic lives of cops).

So two weeks after the kidnapping the partners found themselves seated on a low retaining wall, enjoying the unseasonably hot April sun and eating Sammy's finest dogs, with extra sauerkraut.

Carter had avoided talking about the kidnapping of her son for many reasons. It was a trauma she was hated to revisit during daylight hours, given how many of her nights were shaken by jarring dreams and secret tears.

She wanted to be strong for Taylor and she hoped that by keeping quiet and staying close she could convince her son that the danger had been minimal and was now eliminated completely.

Obviously, she couldn't talk with him about the role Reese had played in his rescue. She knew he wanted to see Reese again, to talk with him again, to learn more about him. Taylor asked about the man every day. And she shrank from the disappointment in his eyes when she shut down these questions with a curt brush off. Her boy was hurting and she couldn't help him in the way he wanted.

But how could she explain that John was an armed vigilante operating unchecked in the city with her tacit permission? And that in this instance the mysterious man had gone on a violent spree at her express bidding? How could she say that Reese's life was in constant danger and his very existence had to be kept a secret?

So she said nothing at home and prayed that the nightmares that haunted both of them every night would end soon.

At work, Carter assumed an icy stoicism about the kidnapping. Her official report about the confrontation with Elias over the Mafia dons was a marvel of minimalism which covered the basics, avoided actual lies, and left a few gaping holes she planned to never fill.

Her bosses were too preoccupied with the arrest of Elias and its implications for the city and for their own careers, to worry about her son's kidnapping.

And Elias, who could put all the pieces together, was keeping silent for his own reasons. Carter was sure he would use the information he possessed linking her to Reese when it suited his larger purposes. A New Model Mob Boss indeed.

In the precinct, only Fusco cared.

Every morning when she arrived at her desk, she could feel his concern rolling toward her in blunt waves.

He seemed convinced that food was the ticket to soothing her troubled soul. So he brought her doughnuts or bagels every morning, just two so that she didn't have to share with the rest of the ravenous crowd.

He brewed coffee in the crusty old squad room pot and kept it filled throughout the day, making sure to replenish her red cup each time he noticed she was running low. On several afternoons just before quitting time, she caught Fusco returning from the bathroom with her cup washed, dried, and shiny for the next morning.

And he accompanied her to Sammy's hot dog stand for their noontime meals every day that they weren't out on a case.

She didn't know what to do with all this caring. But she found it comforting all the same.

This first sultry day of spring, eating their hot dogs, sitting side by side on the low wall next to the park, the partners played an old game they both enjoyed: Guess the Job. First Carter then Fusco would indicate a passing candidate and give the other ten seconds to come up with a reasonable idea about the pedestrian's job. Then the sleuth had another ten seconds to give reasons for the deduction.

No winners or losers in this game, just a way of passing the time and enjoying each other's company.

"Fusco, that girl is not a prostitute! You guess that about every female under forty wearing a short skirt!

"Look at her, she has a classy leather jacket that costs at least a thousand dollars, the bag is Dior not a knock-off by the way and those four-inch heels are Prada. She works in advertising or maybe in fashion."

"Yeah, so you say! O.K. you're next. That tall guy over there with the messenger bag over his shoulder."

"That guy is obviously out of work. His suit is at least five years out of date, sort of rusty around the elbows and collar, and he has holes in his socks, see? If he was on the job, he would be carrying a hard-sided case not a messenger bag and he would have new socks. I figure he's got a bottle of Johnnie Walker in his bag right now."

"You're probably right, Carter."

They took bites from their dogs in companionable silence, looking around for new quarry.

"How's Taylor doing these days? You don't say much about him, so I guess he's alright, huh?"

"Yeah, he's doing alright, Fusco, thanks for asking."

"I think about him a lot, ya know, seeing as how I got a kid myself, just a little bit younger than Taylor. I know boys that age are so hard to read: What's on their minds, what eating at them, what do they want?"

"I know what Taylor's wanting now, but I can't give it to him, Fusco. I can't talk about the kidnapping with him. I just can't."

"We got those shrinks in the department; you could take him to one of them, if you wanted."

"Nah, I don't see how that would help."

"Well, it helped me. Two years ago I got tangled up in a case that went south and a buddy on the force got killed. I talked with the shrink and it helped; just talking it out with a stranger really made a difference."

"Maybe. Maybe it would help Taylor. He saw a lot that day, a lot of people getting shot. That school guard, Elias' men. ..

"Fusco, I keep thinking that Elias has got to come after Taylor again, now that he knows the location of that hideout. It's too dangerous, having a smart kid out in the city somewhere who knows secrets that Elias wants to keep hidden. Jeez, I think about that all the time, ya know, how he's still in danger."

"Come on Carter! You seriously think Elias kept his operation in that location more than an hour after Taylor was rescued? Elias had his henchmen close down that warehouse or wine cellar or whatever it was as soon as Taylor and Moretti were outta there. Guaranteed."

"How did you know Taylor was locked up in a wine cellar? That wasn't in any reports, was it?"

"Yeah, well, uh… I got sources that tell me things; intel just comes my way, ya know?

"So…uh… what are you and Taylor doing this weekend? Any big plans?"

"He's been begging me to go see that new movie, "Wrath of the Titans." But I don't know. Sitting through two hours of 3-D action pounding out of the screen with a bunch of teenage boys throwing popcorn and hooting, just doesn't appeal at all."

"I saw the first one. Pretty cool with all the monsters and special effects, great action scenes and you learn a little about Greek myths too. Think of it as educational, Carter."

"The only thing educational about that movie is getting a chance to study Liam Neeson up close and personal for two hours. But not even a fine hunk of Zeus is worth the headache that damn movie is going to give me."

"So why not let me take Taylor. I'll see if I can get Lee for the weekend and we'll go together. It's supposed to be Alice's weekend to have him, but I'll see if I can make the trade. I bet she jumps at the chance to hang out alone with her new boyfriend."

"Fusco, would you really do that? You are a doll! Alice was bat-shit crazy to give you up!"

"I don't know about all that. But yeah, sure, Taylor and me and Lee can take in the movie. Who knows maybe a Yankees game too, if the times work out right."

"You know, you're alright, Fusco. You are alright."

"Jeez, don't go getting all sloppy on me, Carter."

"Right, no mushiness allowed. Got it, partner."

Tossing away the foil from their hot dogs, the pair walked with measured steps back to the precinct to take up their work once more.