Chapter Six

There Will Be No Divorce

"Daddy!" came an enthusiastic squeal, and Scotty looked up eagerly to see his daughter running through the office and toward his desk as fast as her chubby, two-year-old legs would carry her.

Lilly watched as a warm, brilliant smile spread across her partner’s face and he practically leaped from his chair to meet the little girl halfway. His joy was contagious, and Lilly found herself beaming right along with him. Sure, she’d seen Scotty smile, thousands of times, but the smile he got when he saw his daughter…there was absolutely nothing in the world like it. The sparkle in his eyes, the dazzling, ear-to-ear grin, the pure adoration and delight that radiated from his face…Scotty with his daughter was one of the most beautiful things Lilly had ever seen, and all she could do was put down her pen and look on proudly as he swept the dark-haired child into his arms and smothered her with kisses and Spanish endearments.

"Don’t you dare let her sweet-talk you," Kat ordered, a no-nonsense expression in her eyes as she came into the office after hanging up their coats on the rack in the hallway. "This is the same child who just got two days’ suspension from daycare for sinkin’ her teeth into Adam Valetti’s arm."

"Your DNA, Miller," Scotty replied jovially, before turning to his caramel-skinned, curly-haired daughter and trying his damnedest to affect the attitude of a firm disciplinarian. That sort of thing was no problem for him on the job, of course, but as a parent, Lilly knew it was a constant struggle for him. His daughter owned his heart, and everyone knew it…his daughter most of all.

"Hey," he began, his voice quiet but as stern as he could possibly make it, peering into the child’s warm brown eyes, eyes that were just like his. "What’s this I hear about you bitin’ some kid, huh?"

The little girl shrugged and smiled, her smile the spitting image of her mother’s, dimples and all. "Musta got what was comin’ to him," she replied casually, and Lilly had to stifle a giggle. Maybe the biting was from her mother…but that nonchalant sense of vigilante justice? That came straight from her daddy.

Scotty glanced over at Lilly just then and saw her watching him, the barely-repressed laughter twinkling in her blue eyes, and he knew without her even saying anything exactly what she’d found so amusing. In response, he quirked an eyebrow at her and flashed a brief lopsided grin before turning back to his daughter.

"You know that ain’t how we handle things, m’ija," he chided gently as he lowered the toddler to the ground and squatted so he was at her eye level. "We’re gonna talk about this a lot more when we get home, okay?" He fixed her with as stern an expression as he could muster, though it was a mere ghost of the scathing looks he gave suspects in the interview room, Lilly noticed, and after a moment, his daughter looked contrite.

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly, appropriately chastened, and then, as though nothing in the world were wrong, her eyes lit on an empty neighboring desk. Lilly followed the girl’s gaze and saw, to her endless amusement, that the tot was mesmerized with Vera’s half-eaten donut, which lay unattended on a napkin next to a mug of coffee.

"Snack time!" the toddler proclaimed cheerfully, launching herself over to Vera’s desk before either of her parents could blink, and this time Lilly couldn’t suppress her laughter. That precocious little girl had certainly livened up the bullpen in the last couple of years, she mused.

"Sweetheart," Scotty scolded lightly as he chased her toward the desk. "That’s Uncle Nicky’s donut." He glanced toward Kat for backup, but found her merely watching their daughter with a straight face, albeit a distinctly mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"’S’okay," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly, then returning her attention to the pile of paperwork on her desk with just the barest hint of a smile. "It is snack time."

"Yay!" the little girl cheered as she lifted the donut from its napkin and took a large, enthusiastic bite.

"Cute, Miller," Scotty grinned as he lifted their daughter into his arms, sat down at his desk, and settled her on his lap, ignoring the shower of sugar glaze that was rapidly beginning to adorn his clothing. "You’re usin’ our daughter as a pawn in your food fights with Vera."

Without even glancing up, Kat merely shrugged again, neither confirming nor denying Scotty’s accusation.

"Grandpa Stillman!" the little girl suddenly shrieked joyfully, leaping off her father’s lap, donut still in hand, and Lilly turned to see the lieutenant emerging from his office.

"Hey, I thought I heard a familiar voice," Stillman remarked with a wide grin as he crouched down to toddler level.

"She got suspended from daycare, Boss," Scotty explained apologetically. "We gotta keep her here for a couple hours ‘till Kat’s mom gets home from Bingo."

"Biting again?" Stillman asked, without even a moment’s hesitation to consider the alternatives.

"Mmm," was Kat’s noncommittal reply, and the boss chuckled.

"No problem," he replied, sweeping the child into his arms, then raising himself to his full height as she wrapped him in a childish hug. "I don’t mind watchin’ her for a bit." He studied the little girl, whose face was now smeared with sugar glaze.

"You need a drink to go with that donut?" he asked her. At her enthusiastic nod, he continued. "Well, you’re in luck! I got some juice boxes in the fridge just for you."

Kat glanced up, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sure you can handle that, Boss?" she asked, arching a brow.

"Absolutely," Stillman answered confidently.

Kat smiled warmly. "Meant the juice boxes," she amended.

Stillman grinned at the memory of his first encounter with a box of apple juice, when his grandson was visiting, and he’d had to summon Kat into the office to help him figure out how to open it. "We’ll see," he replied with a chuckle as he and the toddler headed into the kitchen.

Lilly couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as she watched them depart, and Kat glanced up.

"What?" she asked, with a slight frown.

Scotty glanced at Lilly and read her expression. "Oh, me and Lil were just talkin’ about the day you told me my life was gonna change forever," he answered lightly.

"Oh, you mean the day you turned around and ran off, and I had to hunt you down and tear your sorry ass a new one?" Kat corrected, with a grin and a brief glare.

Scotty shrugged. "Potayto, potahto," he replied.

"So you did find him," Lilly commented, glancing over at Kat.

"Course I found him," Kat declared confidently. "You told me exactly where to look."

Mid-December, 2008

As Scotty fled through the glass double doors without so much as a backward glance, all Kat could do was stand and stare after him in utter disbelief. She’d known he’d be as surprised as she’d been, had no illusions that hearing the news of her pregnancy would be one of the bigger shocks of his life, which was why it had taken her so long, and why she’d tried so damn hard, to come up with the best possible way to break it to him. Not that there really was a good way to break that sort of news, she knew that full well…but, even so, she’d had no idea he’d just up and take off without even a word. Even Jarrod had had more of a reaction. Oh, he’d been lying through his teeth when he said he’d be around, as she soon found out the hard way…but at least he’d said something. At least he hadn’t just turned around and left her standing there, alone in a cold lobby with just a pathetic bottle of soda and a rising sense of helpless anger. She didn’t have the faintest clue what, exactly, she’d expected from Scotty, nor what she even wanted… but…sure as hell not that.

This was not what Rush had told her would happen, she griped inwardly. He was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be the good guy.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Silently fuming, she sipped the rest of her ginger ale, then, energized by her fury, she tossed the empty bottle into the trash with a loud clang and charged back into the office, suddenly wanting, more than anything, to just be done with all this crap and get on with the rest of her day. So that goddamn jackass Scotty Valens didn’t want anything to do with her or their child. Fine. Not like she hadn’t seen that coming from a thousand miles away. She could do this. She’d handled worse. She was Kat Miller, dammit. She could handle anything.

Thus fortified, she stormed back into the squad room just in time to see Stillman handing a file to Lilly.

"Scotty brought in another crazed fan this morning," the boss was explaining. "You and Will see what you can get outta this one. I got a feeling there’s more than just Lucy Stephens involved in the murder."

"Why isn’t Scotty in on this?" Lilly asked blankly as she leafed through the file.

"He’s takin’ some lost hours," Stillman informed her over the rim of his coffee mug. "Just got off the phone with him."

"Scotty’s gone?" Lilly blurted out, her brow furrowing as she glanced up at the lieutenant, and Kat felt her irritation increase. "He say why?"

Oh, Kat knew why. She knew exactly why. She just hadn’t expected him to ditch work, too.

"Personal reasons," Stillman answered with a slight shrug as he retreated back into his office. "That’s all I know."

Kat responded with a derisive snort. "Personal reasons my ass," she muttered. She hadn’t intended anyone to hear her, but Lilly apparently did, because she whirled around, file in hand, and glanced quickly around the squad room to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

"Did you tell him?" she asked softly.

"Oh, yeah," Kat replied with a glare, her voice trembling with quiet fury. "I told him."

"And?" Lilly pressed, undaunted.

"And…he gawped at me for a couple seconds, then turned around and ran. Just like they all do," Kat seethed, then laughed, a bitter, humorless chuckle. "Real stand-up partner you got there, Rush."

At this, she sensed her blonde colleague bristling, and Kat braced herself for what would no doubt be a flowery speech from Rush extolling the many virtues of Scotty Valens…but, to her surprise, that wasn’t what she got.

Lilly’s porcelain features were heavy with disappointment. "I can’t believe he’s doing this again," she murmured, almost to herself.

"Doin’ what again?" Kat demanded heatedly. "How many times has he knocked a girl up and then disappeared without a word? Do I even wanna know how many bastard kids that son of a bitch has out there?" She knew she was overreacting, knew she was being irrational, but, at the moment, she couldn’t be bothered to care.

With a faraway look in her eyes, Lilly shook her head. She seemed deep in thought, and, for a moment, Kat wondered if Rush had even heard her.

"He’s probably off blaming himself," she mused reflectively, her gaze still focused on some distant point, and then, to Kat’s astonishment, Lilly started rummaging through her wallet, muttering to herself. After a few seconds’ search, she triumphantly pulled out a business card and handed it to Kat.

"Here," she said, and Kat gave the card a brief glance.

"Bubba’s Boxing Emporium?" she read with a frown, then returned her gaze to Lilly. "What the hell’s this?" she demanded.

"It’s where you can find him," Lilly explained, then, without another word, she pushed open the door to to the interview room, where Jeffries and their suspect were ready and waiting.

Still peering at the card, Kat considered her options for a few moments, then shrugged. What the hell? Scotty had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her…so the least she could do was let him know she was perfectly fine with that arrangement.

***

Half an hour later, Kat had made her way to the gym. She yanked open the door and was immediately met by a thick wall of warm, humid air, the result of too many active bodies and the heating turned up just a smidge too high. Instantly, her ears were assaulted by some furious-sounding heavy-metal song she couldn’t place, and the stench of sweat and blood and the barbarity of boxing caused yet another wave of nausea to wash over her. Normally, she might have succumbed, but she had something far more important on her plate than damn pregnancy hormones, so she leaned against the cool cement wall, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths, driving the nausea away through sheer force of will. Then, satisfied that she could make it through the conversation with Scotty without losing her ginger ale, she opened her eyes again, composed herself, pushed down that niggling finger of fear that had been her constant companion since she’d peed on that damn stick, and set out to search for him.

"Sorry, ma’am," the skinny, messy-haired teenager behind the desk said as she swept past. "This is a members-only club."

"So’s Philly Homicide," Kat responded coolly, flashing her badge without even glancing in his direction, and, as she expected, she didn’t hear another peep out of the boy.

It didn’t take long to find Scotty. She could tell without even looking where he was, based on the sheer force of the punches being landed to a heavy bag in the corner. Completely enveloped in some kind of zone, he didn’t look up as she approached, and she doubted he was even aware that anyone was standing there. His eyes were locked fiercely on the bag, shooting fire at his imaginary opponent, his face set with determination and flushed with exertion, and rivers of sweat cascaded down the contours of his sculpted shoulders and muscular torso.

Another surge of irritation rose within Kat’s chest as she watched him land punch after punch, most punctuated with a primal grunt. Who the hell did he think he was, running off like some jackass coward to beat the shit out of a punching bag just because he was angry with her? And where the hell did he get off being angry with her in the first place? Wasn’t entirely her fault they were in this mess. It took two to tango, dammit.

Lilly’s words suddenly rose to the surface of Kat’s swirling thoughts, and as she continued to watch Scotty, she realized that, as usual, Rush was right. A careful study showed her that he seemed to be raining every punch, every growl, every ounce of his rage directly into his own soul, and with each percussive blow to the bag, her anger with him gradually began to fade as she saw the extent of his. Son of a bitch…he really was blaming himself.

"Sure hope whatever’s in your DNA that makes you do that is recessive," she remarked drily, and Scotty shot her a brief glare, one that told her that he didn’t exactly welcome her company, but she stood her ground.

"What the hell are you doin’ here?" he managed to gasp between punches.

"Thought I’d take up boxing," she shot back, her voice oozing sarcasm. "I hear it’s good for pregnant women."

Scotty glared at her again, but, rather than convince her to leave, that fierce look only made her more determined to stay. After a brief stare-down, he finally stopped, tossed the boxing gloves to the side, and leaned his hands on his knees, the sweat dripping off his chin and falling to the mat on the floor with gentle tapping sounds, his chest heaving frantically for each breath.

While waiting for him to recover, Kat glanced around and noticed a towel tossed on the floor next to a crumpled T-shirt and a gym bag, and she grabbed it and threw it at Scotty, who caught it reflexively and buried his face in it.

"You gotta stop this," she informed him coolly.

"Stop what?" he panted, his voice muffled by the towel.

"Stop…this," she repeated, punctuating her words with emphatic hand gestures. "Stop blamin’ yourself for this. There were two of us there that night, two of us drunk, two of us makin’ mistakes. You ain’t the only one who screwed up, and you don’t get to spend the rest of your life beatin’ yourself up over it."

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do?" he asked breathlessly as he scrubbed the sweat from his chest. "I screwed up the rest of your life…you’ve already got one kid with no dad…you got it tough enough…and I gotta let one night ruin all that." He looked up then, his eyes hard and bitter. "You don’t need me in your life screwin’ things up any more than I already have," he declared.

So that’s how he wanted to spin it. He wanted to play the "I’m not worthy" card, the "I’m not good enough" card. Make it look like walking away without a backward glance was the noble thing. At least it was different, Kat admitted with a touch of wry amusement. Scotty was at least pretending to be the good guy. Jarrod hadn’t even pretended. He’d just left.

But, whether Scotty truly believed what he said or not, whether he was using his history of screwing up as a get-out-of-jail-free card, or whether he genuinely, honestly thought she and the baby would be better off without him…the result was the same. He wanted out. He was making that perfectly clear, and that was just fine with her.

"Which is why I came to talk to you," Kat replied evenly. "I want you to know that I don’t need anything from you. Not a damn thing. I’ve done this before, and I can do it again. Besides, Veronica’s older now, she can help---"

She was startled, and couldn’t help jumping slightly, when Scotty cut her off by landing another vicious punch to the bag with a frustrated growl.

"Scotty, what the hell?" she demanded, facing him with her hands on her hips, hoping the anger in her voice covered up the fact that, though she’d never, in a million years, admit it to him, he was starting to scare her.

"So that’s it, then," he replied, his voice quiet, but trembling with an odd combination of fury, remorse, and…something that sounded suspiciously like grief. "You really are shuttin’ me out. I’m gonna come to work every day, watchin’ you get bigger and bigger, knowin’ that’s my kid in there, and then all you want from me is a check every month while the only thing I get to see of my own child is a picture on your desk? That’s what you want?" He was almost shouting now, and Kat glanced around nervously, but everyone was too busy punching their respective bags, or each other, to pay any attention to them.

"That’s…not what you want?" she asked incredulously.

"That’s…not what you want?" he inquired, draping the towel around his neck, sinking onto a nearby bench, and taking a swig from his water bottle.

Kat paused, her mind suddenly whirling with possibilities. It seemed he wanted to be there for the baby…but she’d heard that before, years ago…and she’d been dumb enough to believe it.

"You first," she ordered, her expression suddenly guarded as she folded her arms across her chest.

He looked up at her, with almost a sense of resignation in his eyes. "I was…kinda thinkin’ it might be nice for this baby to have a dad," he told her.

"Nice," she agreed tersely, "but not necessary."

Scotty glared at her briefly, but mixed with the irritation was a momentary flash of deep pain. "So…I suppose me tellin’ you that I really wanna be there for this kid…that won’t make any difference, either?"

Kat shrugged. "Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard it," she replied.

Scotty swirled the water bottle in nervous circles as he studied her for a moment, and she suddenly saw the flash of inspiration in his eyes. "This is ‘cause of Jarrod, ain’t it?" he guessed, far more correctly than she’d have liked for him to be able to at a moment’s notice. "You think ‘cause he let you down, I will, too, is that it?"

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She saw the triumph cross his face for the briefest of instants before he decided to hide it again. That triumph irked her, and she lashed out before she could decide whether or not it was a good idea.

"I ain’t gonna let you use this baby as a weapon in a pissin’ contest with Jarrod, okay?" she snapped. "You don’t have to pretend you’re somebody you’re not just ‘cause you wanna prove you’re a better guy than he is."

Scotty looked aghast for a moment, then fixed her with one of his darker glares. "You think this is about you?" he asked, with a bitter chuckle. "You think this is about me wantin’ to be the hero?"

Truer words had never left his lips. "Ain’t it?" she challenged.

To her surprise, Scotty didn’t launch an angry verbal volley back at her. Instead, he paused, obviously wrestling with something, then sighed.

"Look…I never told anyone this before, okay? I ain’t exactly sure I wanna tell you, either, but… I’m gonna, ‘cause I don’t think I got a choice." He paused, lifted the towel to dab another few drops of sweat from his forehead, then took as deep a breath as he could muster and launched in.

"A few years back, before Elisa got sick…we, y’know…forgot one time…and she thought she might be pregnant." He glanced up at her to gauge her reaction. "And I gotta be honest with you… it scared the shit outta me. I mean, we were about to be engaged, we wanted kids, but…I wasn’t ready, she wasn’t ready…it just…it wouldn’ta been a good time, y’know? And a few days later, she found out she wasn’t, and I was real relieved, yeah…but I was also…disappointed. Like…real disappointed. More than I ever thought I could be. It…" he trailed off, shaking his head, then continued, "…kinda made me wanna have kids, y’know?" he asked.

He sighed shakily, then continued, his eyes suddenly warm and shining with something Kat couldn’t quite place. "When she died…I realized that’d prob’ly never happen, and that bummed me out a lot more than I wanted to admit. And now…now I got a second chance," he said earnestly. "It ain’t ideal, it ain’t the best for anyone involved, prob’ly…but I got a kid."

Scotty looked up at her then, his expression suddenly almost angry, yet laced with an undercurrent of sadness. "And you think I just wanna walk away and have nothin’ to do with ‘em? Hell, no. That kid you got inside you is my flesh, my blood, my family…and that ain’t somethin’ I take lightly," he declared.

Kat’s eyes widened in amazement as she sank down on the bench next to Scotty. She’d never expected to hear this from him. Not after their encounter that morning. Not after Jarrod. Not after…anything she’d ever experienced in her entire life. She’d heard pretty words before…but she was beginning to believe, despite her brain shrieking at her not to, that maybe, just maybe, he meant them. If he didn’t…then he was a much better actor than she’d ever imagined.

"If you want me outta this," Scotty continued, "then…I guess that’s your call, but you gotta know that I ain’t gonna like it. But…if you want me…I’ll be as in this as you want me to be. You want me to rub your back, or run out at two AM and get you Thai food, or kick the ass of anyone who touches your belly...then I’ll be there. Diapers, feedin’s, storytime, whatever. We got into this together…and I figure whether it’s your fault or my fault or both our faults…it sure as hell ain’t that baby’s fault. Kids deserve a mom and a dad…this one shouldn’t have to suffer ‘cause his parents are idiots." He stopped and looked up at her, and she couldn’t miss the earnest sincerity in his dark eyes as he lifted the water bottle to his lips and took another grateful sip.

"You better as hell not be doin’ this outta obligation," she informed him gruffly, still regarding him with a good deal of suspicion.

He started to protest, but she cut him off. "Havin’ a child…there’s nothin’ like it, no way to prepare for it, no way to predict what it’s gonna do to your life," she warned, imploring him with her eyes to understand the earth-shattering magnitude of what he was signing up for. "This ain’t just some project, Valens, it ain’t some case that you obsess over for a few days, and then close up the box, put it on the shelf, and forget about it. This is a child. Another human being. You wanna be in this, you’re signin’ up for a lifetime of bein’ a dad."

"I know," Scotty replied, meeting her eyes with the most honesty and sincerity she’d ever seen from anyone. "And…I hope you’ll let me," he finished softly.

Kat stood up and began to pace the mat in stunned silence, her mind whirling with what Scotty had just told her. She made a practice of not trusting people, of not allowing anyone to get close to her, of not allowing anyone in. But, hell, that had fallen by the wayside with half a bottle of wine two months earlier, and she had to admit that, despite his methods, Scotty had given her exactly what she needed. He’d proven himself as a loyal friend…and now he was offering to completely alter his life to offer the new life blooming within her what Veronica had never had: a father. And, Kat realized, to her astonished chagrin, she actually wanted him to do that. Wanted him to be there. For the baby.

In fact, to her abject horror…she was rapidly discovering that she was dangerously close to needing him to be there. With Veronica, she’d been in uniform, working far fewer hours than she was now, and had been living with her mother. Even then, with all the help her mother had provided, it had been more overwhelming than anything she’d ever experienced. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for all she experienced during pregnancy, childbirth, and the exhilarating, terrifying, exhausting first few months of motherhood. Even now, a decade removed from that experience, all those old emotions came flooding back as strong and as fresh as though Veronica had arrived yesterday, and Kat had to fight tooth and nail to keep them from taking over completely. Damn hormones, she muttered inwardly, through clenched teeth.

As she stood there, debating whether or not she could afford to gamble on Scotty, she realized, with great reluctance, that she really didn’t have a choice. She was Veronica’s whole world, and, in her darker moments, she sometimes felt like she’d crumble under the pressure…and to do that with another child? She was terrified to trust Scotty…but even more terrified not to. Unless he stepped up to the plate, she’d be juggling a teenager, a baby, and a career in Homicide…and with all she knew of what was to come, she was forced to admit that that might be just one too many things to juggle. Even for her.

Still deep in thought, she glanced up again to see Scotty watching her, earnest hope shining in his warm brown eyes, studying her carefully for any hint of a reaction. For a second, she almost felt sorry for him. He was so naïve, so adorably clueless as to what being a father would really entail…yet he’d meant what he said. At least, he truly believed he did. The look in his eyes told her that he knew he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but she’d never seen such honest yearning in anyone’s eyes before. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was getting himself into, but his expression told her unequivocally that he wanted to try. So she supposed the least she could do was give him the benefit of the doubt, to let him be there, to see just how set on being a father he really was.

No time like the present to start, she thought, as she grabbed his sweaty Eagles T-shirt from the floor. Besides, if he got tired of it and split, which her embittered heart was sure he still would, somewhere between the first diaper and the terrible twos…but whatever help he’d give her before that, she’d accept. For the baby.

"Workout’s over," she declared, her words punctuated by the slap of the shirt against Scotty’s chest as she tossed it at him. "Take a shower, get dressed, and get your keys. You’re takin’ me out for Indian food."

Blinking in surprise, Scotty stared at her for a moment, then got to his feet. "I…hate Indian food," he replied uncertainly.

"Hell, I hate it, too," Kat agreed with a slight smile. "But your offspring has just informed me that that’s the only thing I can eat for dinner that won’t make me puke all over your shoes."

Scotty’s eyes widened as he absorbed the truth of what she was telling him. "You…want me to be there…" he said slowly, thoughtfully, almost as though he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

"I want you to be there." she agreed. I need you to be there, she added silently.

After a moment, Scotty’s face broke into a wide, grateful smile, and they gazed at each other for a moment before Kat decided that all this honesty and sharing and all that other crap had gotten rather uncomfortable.

"Now get your ass in the shower," she ordered, her voice suddenly in full possession of its usual snarky edge. "I’m hungry."

"You got it," he agreed, slinging the T-shirt over his shoulder and grabbing his gym bag. Halfway to the locker room, he stopped and glanced back at her with a rueful grin and a shake of his head.

"Indian food?" he asked, arching a brow. "You serious, Miller?"

"Fun’s just beginnin’, Valens," she called cheerfully.