The Light At The End Of A Dark Dawn -- Part Two

SEE PROLOGUE FOR DISCLAIMERS, WARNINGS, ETC.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The song 'Poems, Prayers And Promises' was written by John Denver and can be found on the album of the same name, although I have it on the CD 'John Denver: The Rocky Mountain Collection.'

TITLE: There's Nothing Better In The World Than Good Friends (November of 1990): Chapter Two
AUTHOR: Cindy Wylie (RkieFan1960@AOL.com)

Mike was lying in a recliner on the oncology ward of Memorial Hospital enduring yet another round of chemotherapy. So much had happened in the month since the initial diagnosis. It had all started on that nightmarish morning when him and Jill had gone to meet with Dr. Hamilton.

OCTOBER 1990:

They walked into Dr. Hamilton's office at nine o'clock on that Monday morning. Without any waiting, the doctor quickly ushered them into his office and asked them to sit down.

"I've looked at your blood work, Mike. You'll need further tests, but from what I've seen so far, it is Hodgkin's disease. I've already made an appointment for you with an oncologist at Memorial Hospital. He wants to see you in an hour," he said in a forceful voice as Mike and Jill tried to digest what they'd just been told.

"Man, you guys don't waste any time," Mike despaired as Jill clutched his hand.

"The sooner you can start treatment, the better," the doctor told him. "He'll answer all of your questions much better than I can."

At that moment, the door opened and Dr. Olivarez, the head oncologist at Memorial, came in to check on him. He'd been a tremendous help when it came to dealing with Hodgkin's and the worse nightmare of the side effects of the chemotherapy. Mike removed the headphones from his head as the doctor checked the infusion of drugs going into his system.

"So, what's the music today, Miguel?" Dr. Olivarez asked in a thick Spanish accent.

"It's a tape my daughter made me. It has all kinds of music on it," Mike told the doctor.

"How are you feeling so far?" The doctor asked sympathetically.

"Well, I haven't started throwing up yet today. It'll hit about the time Jill pulls into the driveway at home," Mike confessed with a grimace.

Even with anti-nausea drugs Mike still suffered bouts of vomiting for hours after the treatments. They had tried every thing known to man so far to prevent it without any success.

"So, the warm ginger ale didn't help?" The doctor asked.

Mike made a face. "Are you kidding? It tasted so bad I told Jill I'd rather be throwing up."

"Speaking of Jill, do you want me to send her in? She's out there in the hall," Dr. Olivarez announced, pointing toward the door.

"Yeah, " Mike smiled. He replaced the headphones as Dr. Olivarez left the room. Mike had his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on the music playing through the Sony Walkman when he felt Jill's hand on his.

"Hi, sweetheart," she breathed as she leaned over to kiss him gently.

"Hi, baby," he smiled wearily. In the last month there'd been so many things to get adjusted to, but the one constant had been Jill. As she'd promised him that night when he'd returned home, she'd supported both of them through this. At times he didn't see how she did it.

OCTOBER OF 1990: MEETING WITH DR. OLIVAREZ

After leaving Dr. Hamilton's office they'd gone over to Memorial Hospital to meet Dr. Olivarez, who'd been expecting them. He offered them both coffees when they reached his office, which they both declined.

"I've read the preliminary test results that were sent over by your regular doctor. There are several more tests that I need to run over the next several days, but I do agree with the diagnosis of Hodgkin's. From the looks of your blood work, I'd say it's probably Stage Two, but I'll know more when your other tests come back," he told them, letting them absorb everything.

"How long will the tests take?" Mike asked.

"Three, maybe four days. We can get started today. We'll do a CT scan and a bone marrow biopsy to see if the cancer's in your bone marrow. We'll discuss chemotherapy options after we've completed all of the tests. One thing you and your wife might want to talk about before we talk about chemo is the possibility of sterility caused by the treatments. You might want to consider having some of your sperm frozen," the doctor advised them.

"Doctor, we already have three teenage daughters. Or, I should say, two teenagers and one that wants to be. I don't think we're ready to go back to the diaper brigade," Mike assured him.

"Well, it's something you still might want to think about. A lot of cancer patients start giving a lot of thought to their mortality and leaving a legacy," the doctor smiled. "Well, I'd like to get started."

Mike sighed as he adjusted the headphones and looked up at the steady drip of the drugs that were dripping into his body and hopefully eradicating this most unwelcome invader. He thought that it was ironic that in order to kill the cancer cells and, unfortunately, a lot of healthy cells as well, that they had to pump his body full of poison. This was definitely a case where the cure was worse than the disease. Before the diagnosis he'd just felt tired and run down. Now he had a host of other things to worry about.

"What're you thinking about?" Jill asked, watching the expressions that were crossing her husband's face.

"Oh, I was just wondering if we'll be able to beat traffic and get me home without having me throw up all over the front seat of the Bronco," he wondered out loud.

"We can always wait around here until the nausea passes. It's usually over in a couple of hours, anyway," she reminded him, forcing herself to smile for his sake.

"Thanks, but if I'm going to throw up, I'd rather it be in the privacy of my own bathroom," he admitted, closing his eyes.

"It looks like you're almost done for the day," Jill observed as she looked at the almost empty bag. "Let me go get one of the nurses."

Mike reached down and switched off the Walkman and removed the headphones from his bald scalp. His hair had started thinning almost immediately after starting treatment and instead of waiting for it to fall out; he'd just resorted to shaving his head. In sympathy, all of the guys and Thomas had quickly done the same thing. The most touching thing of all, though, was when he'd returned to work after he'd announced his diagnosis to the world to find that the entire 17th precinct had also shaved their heads. The memory still made him smile, one of the few things about this whole ordeal that did.

OCTOBER OF 1990: THE TESTS AND THE FIRST DAY BACK TO WORK

Mike had gone from Dr. Olivarez office on to what felt like a one-way path straight to hell. The CT or CAT scan wasn’t so awful. As a matter of fact, it was completely painless compared to everything else he went through that afternoon. After the CT scan, he was sent to radiology for the bone marrow biopsy. The radiologist first numbed the area with a small needle before producing a needle that appeared to be seven or eight inches long. Mike gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the needle was inserted into his pelvic bone. He was told that once the local wore off, he’d be in a lot of pain for several days.

Mike limped into the precinct the day after his tests, his pelvis and groin screaming in agony. The radiologist had tried to warn him about how much pain he'd be in following the bone marrow biopsy but nothing had prepared him for this. There was no such thing as a comfortable position. Sleeping the night before had been out of the question. Jill had tried to get him to call in sick that morning but there was no way he could. Not in the middle of a murder investigation when he was expecting a call from Washington sometime that morning.

He walked into his and Terry's small cubicle, surprised to find his partner already hard at work.

"Man, you look like hell," Terry commented.

"Thanks, because right now, that's exactly how I feel," Mike grumbled, carefully easing himself into his chair and flipping through the notes on his desk. "Has that investigator called back, yet?"

"No," Terry replied, watching his long-time friend. There was something wrong that Terry couldn't put his finger on.

"So, how did he find out about our case?" Mike asked.

"He said something about some murders that they've had up there and he put something out on a database regarding the M.O. and our case popped up," Terry indicated

"A database, huh? I remember when we had to depend on Teletype for anything from another jurisdiction," Mike sighed.

"Well, my friend, we are in what's now known as the technology age. We either have to move along with it or become extinct like the dinosaurs," he explained good-naturedly, grabbing his coffee cup and walking over to the coffee maker. "You want a cup?"

"No, thanks. I'm giving it up for Lent," Mike said absently as the phone on his desk rang. "Danko."

"Detective Danko, you're a hard man to track down," a familiar voice came across the line, causing Mike to smile. "I've been trying for three days but your partner keeps telling me that you're out. So, how are you and my former partner getting along?"

"Oh, we get along okay except he has this problem with time," Mike looked over at Terry, who grinned in response. "Terry didn't tell me that you were the investigator. How are you, Chris?"

"Well, if he'd told you, would it have made you drag your butt into the office?" Detective Chris Owens teased his friend.

"Sorry, I had to take care of some business that was unavoidable. So, tell me about your murder investigation," Mike changed the subject and grabbed a pen and paper.

"We've got two murdered girls. The first one was about seven weeks ago. She was found dumped in an alley downtown...raped and strangled. The second was found ten days ago in another alley near the police station, also raped and strangled. The first girl was 23 and the other was 17," Chris concluded.

"Our girl was 14, Chris," Mike explained with a frown. "So, where's the tie-in?"

"Both of the dead girls father's were police officers. One was killed in the line of duty in 1981 and the other retired on disability about eight months ago. I did some checking and your dead girl's mother was married to a police officer who was killed in the line of duty in 1972," Chris explained.

Mike sat up in his chair as he remembered the Lacey's. Mrs. Lacey had an accent. It was faint but it was there. Mr. Lacey had called her Birgitta.

"Birgitta Whitman," Mike whispered.

"What?" Terry asked, glancing up at Mike.

"Chris, can you send us the information on your murders?" Mike asked excitedly.

"I can do better than that. My boss wants me to fly out there and get together with you guys on this. Dead girls in Seattle are bad for tourism," Chris commented.

"Seattle? I thought you were in Spokane," Mike remarked.

"Man, Terry never tells you anything. I left Spokane over a year ago. The opportunity for promotion was better here, so here I am. I've got a flight leaving in the morning, so I'll see you guys around lunchtime," Chris said, hanging up before Mike could say anything further.

<><><><><><><><>

Jill pulled up in the driveway at home almost an hour after Mike had finished his treatment. He was lying in the passenger seat of the Bronco, with the seat completely back and his legs propped on the dashboard. They had found that lying back was the best possible way for him to combat the nausea and hopefully prevent the vomiting until they could reach the safety of home.

She looked over in despair at him soundly sleeping in the seat. The chemo always knocked him for a loop. He'd typically sleep 17-20 hours a day for two or three days after the treatments. She wasn't sure how she was going to get him into the house. Normally, he'd try to stay awake so he could help her out. She couldn't ask the girls to help her and she hated to wake him up, but she knew she was going to have to. She quietly climbed out of the Bronco and walked around to the passenger side and opened the door as quietly as she could.

"Mike?" She gently shook his shoulder; glad it wasn't the side that had the Port-A-Cath.

"You need some help?" Willie's voice suddenly materialized beside her.

"Yes. Let me unbuckle his seat belt and then you can help me get him out," Jill suggested.

"I've got him. You go unlock the door," Willie told her as she nodded. "Can you do me a favor and wave my son over here? I don't want to shout and startle Mike."

The girls were in the living room when Jill walked in. She sent Michelle down to get Thomas while she went out to help Willie, who'd just gotten Mike out of the Bronco as he groggily opened his eyes.

"You'd better be able to run the hundred in under ten seconds," Mike mumbled as Thomas came running up to help his father. "Oh, good, you've got the kid with you. He's always lighter on his feet than you are."

"Yeah, well, I had his speed when I was younger," Willie joked back.

"You'd better start remembering that speed and walk faster or we're all going to need a shower," Mike ordered as the two men picked up the pace and got Mike into the house, barely making it to the downstairs bathroom before Mike was violently ill.

Jill rushed in behind them as they retreated to the living room with the three girls. Willie glanced over at Mary Kate, who ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. He was still glancing upstairs when he felt Savannah touch his hand.

"She'll be okay. She's just scared," the little girl explained.

"Hey, if you guys ever need to talk, you know we're there for you," Willie told them as they nodded.

Just then the bathroom door opened and Mike emerged holding a wet towel to his forehead as Jill followed him out.

"Do you need help getting him upstairs?" Willie offered sympathetically.

"No, this part I can handle on my own. Thanks, Willie," Jill told him, lightly kissing him on the cheek.

Upstairs in their bedroom, Jill helped Mike undress and put on a clean pair of pajamas before helping him settle into bed. She knew the cycle would repeat itself many times over the next three or four hours, but she also knew how angry he got when she kept insisting on helping him. After the first treatment, he'd shouted at her that he didn't need her to hold his head when he was sick. She smoothed the towel on his forehead before leaning over and kissing him.

"Call me if you need anything," she told him as he wearily nodded.

He lay there dozing off and on, watching the shadows growing in the darkening bedroom. It was almost Thanksgiving and he was beginning to wonder what in the hell he had to be thankful for.

OCTOBER OF 1990: THE SECOND MEETING WITH DR. OLIVAREZ

Chris got delayed in Seattle, which in turn further delayed Mike and Terry's investigation. For Mike, this ended up being something of a blessing in disguise. Two days after the bone marrow biopsy, he and Jill were asked once again to meet with Dr. Olivarez.

"Believe it or not, there is some good news regarding your diagnosis. Your bone marrow test is negative and your CT scan shows no enlargement of your liver or spleen. So, it appears at this time that the cancer has not spread. That means we need to start talking about your course of treatment. The first thing I want to do is schedule you for surgery to have a Groshong catheter inserted in your chest," the doctor advised.

"Wait! A what where? For what purpose?" Mike asked.

"Chemotherapy can be administered three ways. One is by oral medication, which is not an option in your case. The second is by IV. The problem with using an IV for chemo is after a while your veins could become difficult to find. With the Groshong catheter, or Port-A-Cath, you're administered chemo through a tube that's been surgically implanted in your chest. We'll also use the same catheter to draw blood for blood work. It's much simpler," the doctor patiently advised.

"Doctor, I'm a police officer. Can I continue working with this thing in my chest?" Mike asked.

"I don't see why not. It's under your clothes and it can't be seen unless you remove your shirt," the doctor told him.

"When would I have to have this surgery and how long would I be hospitalized?" Mike explained to him.

"I'd like you to meet the surgeon today and possibly get the catheter implanted by early next week. You'd only be in the hospital a few hours. You'll be given a local and the catheter will be inserted. After the surgeon makes sure that the catheter is stable, you'll be free to go. You'll be sore for several days and your first chemotherapy treatment might be painful, but you shouldn't have a problem with recovery," the doctor said. "Are there any other questions?"

Jill took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Yeah, it concerns what you said on my first visit about sterility. Is this a permanent side effect?" Mike queried.

"In some people. If you want to have some of your sperm frozen, I can arrange for you to talk to somebody about that, too," the doctor noted, smiling at the look of discomfiture that crossed Mike's face. It was a look that he'd seen on the faces of many of his male patients in the past.

"Yeah, let's do that, too," Mike decided. "Tell me the truth, doc. What're my chances of beating this thing?"

"The treatment is successful about 80 percent of the time. If you don't have a recurrence of the cancer, your chances are excellent. But you also need to have the mental attitude that you're going to beat this. That's more than half of the battle. It's not going to be pleasant, Mr. Danko. It's probably going to be the hardest thing you've ever done in your life," the doctor pointed out as he shook both of their hands.

'Man, he got that right,' Mike thought to himself as he once again bolted for the bathroom.

When Mike had first begun treatment, the one thing he had insisted upon to Jill was that they try to keep things as normal as possible for the girls. He didn't want their lives interrupted anymore than they needed to be.

Jill helped the girls fix dinner and set the table before the four of them sat down to eat. Jill tried to keep one ear trained on upstairs in case Mike needed her. She heard him every once in a while, but so far everything was as normal as it ever was on chemo days. She looked over to where Mary Kate was sitting, playing with her food. On the days when Mike had chemo, Mary Kate often refused to eat. She also refused to discuss her father's illness or any aspect of it. Where her daddy was concerned she was a closed book.

"Mom, Thomas asked me to go to the movies Friday night. Can I go?" Michelle begged her mother.

"Michelle, you know the rules. No dating until you're 16," Jill reminded her gently.

"But I'll be 15 in five weeks! 16 is a lifetime! Besides, it's Thomas! You and daddy have always liked Thomas!" Michelle complained.

Savannah and Mary Kate rolled their eyes at this familiar argument they'd heard about a million times.

"Michelle, I don't care if Patrick Swayze walked through that door right now and asked you out, you're not dating until you're 16. Now, don't argue with me about this. Not today," Jill told her in a firm voice as Michelle sighed.

Jill woke up later that night to find Savannah standing beside their bed. She sat up, waking Mike up in the process.

"Savannah, what's wrong?" Jill asked as Mike switched the light on.

"MK's crying and she's keeping me awake," Savannah explained.

"I'll go talk to her," Mike offered, throwing back the covers and pulling his robe on.

"Are you sure?" Jill asked, concerned.

"It's okay. Savannah, go back to bed," Mike ordered the little girl before hobbling across the hall to Mary Kate's bedroom. The little girl was lying on her stomach sobbing into her pillow as if her heart was going to break. "Mary Kate? Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

"I just get scared sometimes," the young girl continued sobbing.

"I get scared, too," he admitted as he started rubbing her back gently.

"I'm scared that you're not going to get better and we'll end up with Trap for a stepfather. Or, even worse, Chris," she cried, sobbing anew.

"Hey, don't give up on the old man, yet," Mike chided, trying to fight back a smile. "Just think, either way you girls will learn excellent police skills and with Trap, the added bonus of becoming expert horseback riders."

Mary Kate sat up and glared at him. "That isn't funny."

"Neither is you having me dead and buried," he pointed out. "The doctor told me that part of beating this is having a positive mental attitude. Now it seems that everybody in this family understands that except you. Mary Kate, I love you. You have to believe that I'm going to beat this. I need you to believe that. Can you do that for me?" He asked.

She nodded slowly. "It's hard though when you come home and you're so sick," she admitted in a small voice.

"I know, but on the days when I don't have chemo, I feel like I always have, just a little more tired. But I'm still the same person. I can still play cards with the guys and I can still help you with your homework and go to your recitals. That part hasn't changed, and my love for you and your sisters hasn't changed. Now, I want you to lay down and go to sleep and stop keeping your sister awake," he commanded as he helped her get under the blankets. "Good night. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, kissing him as he stood up.

Leaving Mary Kate's room, Mike realized that he was starving. He slowly walked downstairs to the kitchen to fix a sandwich. He was sitting at the table eating the sandwich and drinking a glass of milk when Jill walked in.

"Hi, couldn't go back to sleep, huh?" She asked, kissing him before joining him at the table.

"Oh, I'll get started on my 36-hour night as soon as I recharge my battery," he grinned.

"Mike, remember the discussion we had after you had the catheter implanted? About having another baby with the deposited sperm?" She asked as Mike grimaced, remembering that conversation. Actually, it had been more of an argument.

OCTOBER OF 1990: DISCUSSING THEIR FUTURE

Mike had the catheter inserted a week after first meeting with the doctor. Jill drove him home from the hospital and he went upstairs to lie down. She came upstairs a few minutes later.

"Do you need anything?" She asked quietly as he shook his head.

When she didn't say anything else, Mike thought she'd returned downstairs. He opened his eyes and glanced over to find her still standing beside the bed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. For once, he didn't know how to comfort her when he felt like crying himself. At the moment, he was sore and scared. He couldn't remember being more frightened in his life, not only for himself, but frightened for Jill and the girls. He was trying to remember where he'd placed all of his personal papers. He looked over at Jill once again and moved over on the bed, motioning for her to lie beside him. She lay down on the bed and carefully curled up against him.

"It's going to be okay, baby," he whispered into her hair.

"I know. Are you scared?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Out of my mind," he admitted, tightening his arm around her.

"Me, too. That's why I'd like to have another baby," she suddenly blurted out.

Mike's reaction wasn't even close to what Jill was expecting. He removed his arm and sat up, ignoring the pain in the right side of his chest where the catheter had been placed.

"You want another baby? Jill, right now I'm not even sure if I'm going to be around to watch the three we already have graduate from high school! I don't want you to have to go through that alone! Besides, you heard what Dr. Olivarez said about the treatments causing sterility. And even if they didn't make me sterile, I'm not sure I'd want you to get pregnant. I mean, who knows what the hell chemo does to the reproductive systems of the people it doesn't make sterile. Unless you're talking...Oh, no! No way!" Mike protested, getting up off of the bed and pacing the room.

"Why did you bank sperm if you have no intention of our ever using it? Mike, you don't understand! I want to have your son. That's all I've ever wanted. That chance has been taken from me twice. They say that the third time is the charm. I love you so much," she whispered.

"I can hear it now," he snapped, still pacing. "'Tell me where I came from, mommy.' Oh, son, you were conceived in a doctor's office with a turkey baster."

"It isn't like that and you know it," she remarked in a shaky voice. "I want us to have another baby. I've wanted that for a long time. I just wasn't sure that you wanted to have another one. After all, we've been so busy with work and the girls," she stopped speaking as he turned around to face her with tears running down his face.

"Jill, I'd love nothing more in this world than to have another child with you, but I want to make sure I'm going to be around to see that child grow up. Right now, I don't see that happening," he sobbed as she walked over and pulled him as close as she was able to without injuring his chest.

<><><><><><><><>

"So I take it we're having the baby discussion again?" Mike asked, setting his sandwich down.

"Mike, please think about this. I dream about having your son. I see him so vividly. Your eyes, your hair, your smile. And I also see you right beside me helping me raise him...teaching him everything about how to be the kind of man that you are," she insisted, placing her hand over his and squeezing it tightly.

"You know it isn't going to be easy," he pointed out. "I mean, neither of us are getting any younger. Have you already talked to somebody about this?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you first," she told him.

"Well, you know that I'd really like to do this the old-fashioned way, but I guess we should be thankful that we'll be able to try it at all. So, I say, let's try to make a baby," he smiled as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

OCTOBER OF 1990: THE ARRIVAL OF CHRIS AND BAD NEWS FROM MIKE

Chris arrived two days before Mike was scheduled to have the catheter inserted. Mike and Terry were at their desks when their old friend walked in, followed by Willie.

"This guy says he knows you two," Willie stated uncertainly as he brought Chris over.

"Yeah, we know him," Terry admitted happily, standing up and embracing his old partner. "Chris Owens, this is Willie Gillis. Willie, Chris Owens."

"Hey, you were Terry's first partner," Chris remarked, shaking Willie's hand.

"Yeah. I had to leave to take care of my father. I came back after he passed away," Willie disclosed as he felt a twinge of jealousy come over him.

"It's great to meet you. I heard a lot about you," Chris admitted.

"Same here. Holler if you need anything," Willie told him as he turned to go back downstairs.

"So, why isn't he a detective with you guys?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, there were only two openings up here and they chose Terry and me to fill them. He helps out when one of us isn't here and I'm sure he'll be up here before too much longer," Mike commented cryptically as Terry gave him a strange look.

"So, tell us what we're dealing with," Terry finally said, not knowing what else to say.

"Okay, well, I got delayed because we found out that this whole thing goes a little deeper than we thought," Chris admitted as he opened his briefcase. He removed a folder and scanned it for reference. "Our first murder occurred almost two months ago. She was a college student at the University of Seattle. Her father was a police officer who was killed during a robbery in 1981. His name was George Montgomery," Chris looked at Terry and Mike as they both shrugged. The name meant nothing to them.

"What about the other girl?" Mike pressed.

"She was killed almost two weeks ago. She was found in a dumpster near the police station. She was 17 and was a high school student. Her father was also a police officer. He retired after being injured in a shoot out eight months ago. His name is Kevin Lassitur," Chris concluded as Mike and Terry looked at each other.

"Kevin graduated from the academy with us, but we don't know any George Montgomery," Mike stated as Terry nodded in agreement.

"The Lassitur's live here in the L.A. area and Montgomery's father lives in Marina Del Ray," Chris informed them, handing Mike and Terry cards with their addresses.

"So, you said the whole thing got deeper. How so?" Mike asked curiously.

"Well, we went into our computer and found some more cases. They started about five months ago and they all involve families of guys in your academy class. Not the guys, themselves...just their families," Chris concluded.

"But our dead girl wasn't the daughter of a police officer. Her mother had been married to one, but Jared died long before this girl was born," Terry contemplated. "So what's the connection there?"

"What happened to this guy, Whitman? How did he die? I don't think you ever told me the story," Chris inquired curiously.

"Let me think. What I remember most about Jared is that he had this huge chip on his shoulder. He was always getting into it with Ryker. We went after this sniper at a stadium and for some reason; Jared went after the guy alone. We never found out why. It was purely a suicidal move on his part," Terry mused.

"Well, if there was a reason behind his move, maybe Ryker knows what it was," Mike reasoned.

"Can we meet with him?" Chris asked.

"We're having a potluck tomorrow at our house. We can talk to him then," Mike agreed, knowing that he was also going to have to tell all of them about his illness.

The next night, everybody met at Mike and Jill's for their weekly dinner. Jill appeared happy to see Chris again, although their relationship hadn't been as close as the one she shared with Willie. She introduced him to Trap when Ryker showed up with his P.I. partner. Chris seemed surprised to find that his former lieutenant was now a private investigator.

Terry walked into the kitchen a short time later to get more snacks. He stopped when he saw Mike and Jill standing by the sliding glass doors, holding onto each other tightly. He looked at his partner closely, as if seeing him for the first time. Mike was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt that was tucked into the jeans. That was when Terry noticed for the first time how much weight Mike seemed to have lost. Something was very wrong. Terry cleared his throat as Mike and Jill broke apart from each other.

"The natives are getting hungry and restless," Terry smiled, grabbing two bags of chips before leaving the room.

"Are you ready to do this?" Jill asked softly as Mike nodded.

"I have to. I mean, if I show up with this tube in my chest, somebody's bound to ask questions," he told her, kissing her lightly. "Follow me."

"To the ends of the earth," she smiled as he kissed her once again.

"Here we go," he said, taking her hand and walking toward the front room. "Hey, before we eat, I have something I have to tell everybody. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow to have a Groshong catheter inserted in my chest. I'll only be there a few hours so there's no need to freak."

"Would you like to explain just what in the hell a Groshong catheter is and why you're having one inserted," Ryker demanded.

"A Groshong catheter is used to administer chemotherapy rather than ruining my veins. I found out that I have Stage Two Hodgkin's disease," Mike explained as the room suddenly became very silent.

"How long have you known about this?" Terry asked.

"Two weeks. I didn't want to say anything until I had more information. I didn't know very much myself," Mike apologized.

"What's the prognosis?" Willie asked, as Jennifer looked away so Mike wouldn't see her tears.

"The prognosis is actually pretty good. Eighty percent. Look, this isn't a death sentence, okay. I've been told that I can keep to my normal routine. I'll feel tired for two or three days after chemo, but other than that, I'll act and feel like I always do," Mike assured his friends.

"Will your hair fall out?" Natalie asked.

"I don't know. It might," Mike told the young girl.

Everybody was in a state of shock and didn't know what to say. This wasn't what Mike wanted. The last thing he'd wanted in the world was their pity. He thought of all the things they'd been through together as he sat there watching their faces.

'I've been lately thinking about my life's time
All the things I've done and how it's been
And, I can't help believing in my own mind
I know I'm going to hate to see it end
I've seen a lot of sunshine, slept out in the rain

Spent a night or two out on my own
I've known my lady's pleasures, had myself some friends
Spent a time or two in my own home
I have to say it now, it's been a good life all in all
It's really fine to have a chance to hang around
Lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady sit and pass the pipe around

And, talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it's been since yesterday
And what about tomorrow?
And what about our dreams
And all the memories we've shared

The days they pass so quickly now
The nights are seldom long
Time around me whispers when it's cold
The changes somehow frighten me
Still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growing old
For though my life's been good to me
There's still so much to do

So many things my mind has never known
I'd like to raise a family, I'd like to sail away
And dance across the mountains on the moon
I have to say it now, it's been a good life all in all
It's really fine to have a chance to hang around
Lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady sit and pass the pipe around

He had to somehow get through to them and convince them that he could beat this, but it was going to take all of their help to do so and pity wasn't going to help. He had no idea how much they'd rally around to help him in the months ahead.

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