NYPD 214th Precinct 9:07 AM

 Young looked out the car window at the tall old brick building that he visited the previous night, and realized that he hadn't really gotten a good look at it in the dark of the wee hours. Now, it looked to him like the kind of buildings from the old Cold War and Gestapo movies. The ones that the sacrificial lambs of the films went into, but never came out. He made himself shake off that cynical feeling though. If he had to face Antonacci, he was going to do it with dignity and without a hint of fear.

He looked into the eyes of his driver. "I'll call you in a while, I guess."

His mother smiled wryly. "Don't worry about it. Jack's not going to beat the crap out of you out back or anything."

Young rolled his eyes and got out of the car, slamming the door as his retort. He walked up the front stairs and strode in. After going through the metal detector, he asked where he could find Antonacci. The desk clerk instructed him to the third floor. As he was approaching the second story on the staircase, a sergeant came turned and began descending. The least opportune person for Young to run into: Tanner.

The man looked like he still hadn't seen his bed. Or his shower. Or his razor. But at least he was nursing his mug of coffee to make him more edgy. He looked at Young askance as he trudged the steps downward, but he said nothing. So much the better, Young thought.

He continued his ascent to the topmost floor and tread down the hall until he reached a glass door which read:

CAPT. JOHN W. ANTONACCI

DIVISION COMMANDER 

He took a breath and knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" came the answer.

Young swung the door open and looked at the haggard face of his father's old partner

"Close the door and take a seat."

Young complied, but took his time doing it. He slowly strode over to the chair in front of Antonacci's desk, sat down, and then looked directly into the man's eyes.

"Alright, Jack. I've been compliant with everything you've told me to do thus far. Would you agree?"

Antonacci nodded.

"Then would you please tell me what the hell I'm here for?"

Antonacci leaned back and exhaled softly. "What would you say if I were to tell you that I think you're a hell of a kid for coming in like this?"

Young cocked his head. "Honestly...I'd tell you to quit beating around the bush and get to the point."

Antonacci nodded again gently. "Okay, sticking with business. That's something I look for. I've collaborated with some other heads of precincts as well as Commissioner Kelly. I proposed something to them that's never been tried before, and most likely will never be proposed again. The other night, after I listened to the recording of your interrogation, I could see that you inherited a good deal of observation and deduction from your father. Those things were really what made up the headwind in our partnership. I was more like the muscle of the operation, though you wouldn't think so to look at me now."

Young could see what the captain meant. When Antonacci had stood guard at his father's funeral, he was still young and burly. Now he looked a bit gaunt and grizzled. His moustache looked like a steel gray bottle brush, and his eyes were squinty with the crow's feet at their corners.

"Well," continued the captain. "Two kids at home and two planes smacking into buildings will do that to you. But your dad always came through. If I ever missed anything at a crime scene, you can bet your dad would pick up on it. Put Sherlock Holmes to shame a lot of the time."

Young was getting impatient. "Well, I'm sure this is all very nostalgic for you and all. But, uh, you still haven't made yourself clear my friend."

Antonacci looked Young up and down. "Lemme ask you this then. What if I were to offer you a job, James?"

Young scoffed. "What? Washing the precinct windows? Being a gopher for the department?"

Antonacci shook his head. "As a part-time detective."

Young laughed. "You are so full of shit, Antonacci."

"Am I? How well do you really know me James? When was the last time you asked to sit down and have a cup of coffee and get to know me, and my ways, and whether or not I'm lying?"

Young stared at Antonacci. "Well now, let's use a little bit of that observation and deduction that I got from Pop shall we? Let's just think about it. I'm 21 years old. I have no experience as a police officer, hell I don't even have any experience as a rent-a-cop. I'm currently attending college, so I have no degree to qualify. There's my sense of observation. Now for my deduction. I can only assume that you have a theory on the guy with the rose garden that ties me in, otherwise you would have handed this one off to one of your detectives on staff. I'm also deducing that by doing this, you're trying to exorcise some of your demons from the last time you were dealing with a case like this."

Antonacci glared at Young, but kept silent as Young pressed on. "If you think for one minute that by offering me a shield, you're going to make yourself feel better by never finding the guy from 14 years ago, think about what that might do to my mother. So don't try and push a bullshit job on me, when you have absolutely no intention of following through."

Antonacci looked like a tinderbox ready to erupt into flame, and Young wondered for a moment if he had overstepped his boundaries. The captain slowly reached over his desk and picked up the receiver of his phone. He dialed three numbers and paused for three seconds. "I'm all done with my bit. He's all yours if you want him."

Young jerked his head up as Antonacci hung up the phone. The captain sat in silence and watched James as the seconds ticked past on the pendulum clock hanging on his office wall. After about a minute, the door opened and in stepped a tall brunette woman in civvies. In her right hand, she carried a zipped satchel briefcase. Antonacci picked up the introduction.

"James Young, Detective Serena Brighton. Our senior DT."

Young eyed the woman suspiciously. He threw a quick glance at Antonacci, then back at Brighton. He stood up slowly and extended his hand. She took it with a firm handclasp that took Young by surprise.

"Nice to meet you James." She looked at Antonacci. "I see what you mean. He's the spitting image of Vince." She turned back to Young. "It's been a while since I've had a partner, so if I come off like a bitch, don't take it to heart."

Young's head snapped back to Antonacci. "You really are serious about this?" he asked in disbelief.

Brighton chuckled, and to her captain she said, "You mean he hasn't even accepted yet?"

Young continued. "You realize that you're like the captain in Top Gun giving Maverick and Goose their dream shot here?"

Antonacci grinned. "I need an answer right now, James. You're either in or you're out."

Young paused for a moment just to think. True, he had always wanted to be on the force. But a couple of years ago, it seemed like his mother wasn't too keen on him joining. So he had focused on law instead. If his mom didn't want him on the streets, he'd protect people in the courts. But then he thought of Officer Charlie Seaver and seeing him get run through down that alley. How many more of New York's finest would go down because of this bastard? If he didn't help that was...

"I'm in."

Antonacci grinned and stood up. "Welcome to the Blue...Detective Young." He extended his hand and Young took it. But it wasn't flesh that Young felt in that handshake. It was a combination of metal and leather. He pulled his hand away in surprise, and when he looked into his own hand, there was a tin shield with a leather backing.

Young grinned fiercely. "So, if I may ask, what's first?"

Brighton jumped in. "We just thought we'd give you a crash course in training. You won't be licensed for a firearm for a couple weeks, we have to get the paperwork and your tax issues taken care of. How are your grades right now?"

There had to be a rat in the kitchen. Young kicked himself inwardly for not thinking of that. School. What was he going to do about that?

"Well," he started. "It's still fairly early in the semester. My cumulative is at a 3.96. But I don't know how understanding the deans will be about this. I'm still on a scholarship"

Antonacci rubbed his chin. "I'll have the commish get in touch with NYU. They may be able to let you off for this semester without you losing your funds or your grade points."

Immediately, Young felt more at ease. Brighton put a hand on Young's shoulder. "Well Rookie, you ready to get started?"

Young nodded. She reached into the bag and pulled out a book that rivaled Webster's College Dictionary in thickness. "For your bedside reading. Better get cracking college boy."