Rating: PG

Category: Humor

Series: 7th in "Daedalus" Series

Warnings: Not really

Notes: This series began a week or so after "Murder 101," and will continue through the fourth season and beyond. This one was an old story I dusted off and decided would work nicely in this universe. I blame Toni Rae for the idea.

Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own them, I'm just playing with them. I do claim David, Amy, Alan, and Maggie.

~*~*~*~

From "The Cascade Times," September 12, 1999:

LANCASTER AVENUE LIBRARY DEDICATION RESCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW

Mayor, Councilman To Cut the Ribbon

~*~*~*~

It looked like the filing system had thrown up.

Each desk had an overflow of unsorted papers and files of various origins. In-boxes and out-boxes alike were stuffed with envelopes, forms, faxes, and odd things still awaiting signatures. And Simon's office--they were afraid to go in there.

Major Crime was a disaster.

Jim and Blair exchanged bemused glances. The last time the bullpen was remotely this bad was during Rhonda's honeymoon and that was only because her replacement ended up being a convicted felon. What a week that had been.

"Ellison! Sandburg! My office!"

The beckoned partners followed the bass voice into the spacious office across the bullpen. They walked in and stopped short, two pairs of blue eyes going wide at the mess. They opted to stand, seeing that the two chairs across from Simon's desk had stacks of files on them. The captain was seated behind a paper-strewn desk, a coffee mug to his right and an aspirin bottle to his left.

"Bad week?" Sandburg offered.

"Bad doesn't cover it," Simon said, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

"What's going on out there?" Jim asked. "I haven't seen it this bad since Rhonda got remarried. Something wrong?"

Simon sighed heavily. "Rhonda's uncle died a few days ago. I gave her all the time off she needed."

"Her uncle?" Blair echoed.

"Jake Armstrong," Simon said. "He was her closest living relative. Took Rhonda and her daughter back in when her first husband left her."

"Man," Blair muttered. A thought struck him "Jake Armstrong? Doesn't he own half of Cascade's theater district?"

"Did," Simon replied. "A lot of bad debts over the years left him with one run-down theater over on Echo Street. Hasn't been used in years. Actually, he was about to lose that one, last I heard. Owed a lot of back taxes to the city."

"I used to go to his playhouses a lot when I was still an undergrad. Almost fell in love with that woman in 'Oklahoma'--"

"Not to interrupt this little trip down memory lane," Jim cut in. "But didn't you hire a replacement until she comes back?"

"I couldn't," was the curt response.

"Why not? Bad memories of last time?"

Simon groaned. "Don't remind me. No, the city finally approved this year's budget."

Jim arched an eyebrow. "And?"

"And there were a lot of cutbacks in various places."

"You're kidding?" Blair said.

"Like what?" Jim asked. When Simon didn't respond, Jim fixed him with a hard stare. "Who's being fired, Simon?"

"The brass decided to cut the Officer Exchange Program. They want to ship Connor back down under."

"What?" Sandburg squawked. "Why?"

"Something had to be cut," Banks replied wearily. "They decided that the program was the most expendable. Willoughby and Forrester are going back to London, too. They're not just picking on Connor."

"But they invited her to stay—" Sandburg tried.

"What do you want from me, Sandburg?" Simon asked.

"How long?" Jim asked.

"Friday. She'll keep her credentials until the last day of the Larter trial, then she's free to go home."

"That really sucks, Simon," Blair vented. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"Not unless you've got eighty thousand dollars laying around the loft somewhere," Banks snapped. "They're not playing favorites for anyone. Hell, they didn't even have the budget to hire a temp for our secretary."

"What if we raised the money? Then everyone could stay. I know Willoughby loves working in the states and the people up in Vice."

"That's a lot of money, Sandburg," Jim said, quietly.

Ignoring the detective, Blair turned his attention back to Simon. "What about a dinner party or something?"

Simon shook his head. "The mayor just had one last week for his campaign. People might not respond well to another one so soon."

"How about a bachelor auction, again?"

"Forget it," Jim replied, vehemently. "Last time we did that, I got mauled by an eighty year old dowager that smelled like Polydent."

"Wasn't she the one the kept pinching your butt?" Blair asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Jim groaned. "Keep it up, Chief, and I'll sell your body to science. That should take care of the budget cut, shouldn't it, sir?"

"Our luck," Simon said. "He'd talk too much and they'd want a refund."

"Hey, now!" Blair objected.

"Look, that's not why I called you two in here," Simon interjected. "I've got a job that requires your special touch."

"And what would that be?" Jim asked.

"The mayor's been getting some threats about his upcoming campaign. Letters, phone calls, things like that."

"Really? It's the first I've heard of it."

"That's because you two were in the mountains for four days and forgot your cell phones."

"We had mine," Blair offered.

"Well, try charging it once in a while," Simon said sourly.

Blair had the good sense to look sheepish.

"What's the job, Simon?" Jim cut in.

"They mayor's helping dedicate the new Branch Library over on Lancaster Avenue this Wednesday. He wants you there for security."

"Babysitting."

"Basically."

Jim groaned. "Informal, I take it."

Simon nodded. "Informal and short. Don't worry, Jim. We aren't dropping another award in your lap. Councilman Rogers will give an intro, the mayor gives a little speech, cuts the ribbon, gives the key to the head librarian, and everyone goes home happy."

"How can I say no to that?" Jim sighed.

"You can't. You don't have a choice. I'm also giving you Connor and Noble for this thing."

"Understood," Jim said. "Sandburg?"

Blair remained oblivious to the entire conversation. He was staring at the coffee maker, deep in thought. Jim reached out and cuffed Blair lightly on the back of the head.

"Huh?" Sandburg blinked several times. "What'd I miss?"

"Mark your calendar, Chief," Jim said, walking towards the office door. "We've got a date Wednesday."

"A date?" Blair asked, taking half a step forward. "With who?"

"The mayor," Jim shot back. He disappeared into the mess that was the bullpen.

"The mayor," Blair echoed, staring after his partner. "But he's not really my type. Jim?"

Simon chuckled as the frenetic man left the office. It had been disturbing to see Blair so quiet. He was obviously upset about Megan leaving. Hell, Jim was upset, too. Connor was a damn fine detective and a good friend. But what could they do to help?

~*~*~*~

David Noble glared silently at his computer screen. Today was Megan's day off and he was trying to catch up on paperwork. Captain Banks had told him about the budget cuts not half an hour ago. He knew Megan had her work Visa, she didn't have to leave. But money was tight this year and no neighboring cities were hiring full-time detectives.

He didn't want her to go.

But as a detective, he had no power to keep her there.

David watched Jim and Blair in the captain's office. He was sure they were giving Banks the same arguments David had come up with earlier. The conversation seemed to end. The office door opened and Jim led the way out. Simon followed them to the door. His dark eyes flickered briefly to David, and then he turned and closed the door behind him.

He tried to concentrate on his report. It was an odd case to describe. Megan was always better at that. Emilio Jovi had been a petty thief, in and out of jail for twenty years. Just four days ago, Emilio's brother Carlos had received two small packages through the mail, no prints or return address. The first package had been a videotape of Emilio being shot. The second had been a cigar box full of ashes, a spent bullet and Emilio's earring, an item positively identified by Carlos. While Forensics couldn't pull a genetic ID from ashes, all involved were 99.9 percent certain Emilio had been murdered. David and Megan had tracked down the empty warehouse the execution had taken place in and found traces of type B+ blood, Emilio's type.

The case itself was at a dead stop. Emilio had few friends, no enemies that anyone knew of. Carlos suspected his baby brother had finally robbed the wrong person. David had been inclined to agree.

A tingle crept up David's spine—he always knew when someone was watching him. He looked across the bullpen and caught Blair's eyes. The younger man was looking at him intently. No, Blair had been looking at him. Now he seemed to be looking through him, completely lost in his own thoughts.

//Hope you've got some good ideas brewing, // David thought.

~*~*~*~

//Another bill, // she thought, angrily tossing the envelope onto an ever-growing pile. //I won't lose that theater. I have to keep it for Uncle Jake. //

An all too familiar lump settled in Rhonda's throat and she could no longer see the checkbook through her tears. If she couldn't come up with twenty thousand dollars in taxes and rent, she would lose her last real connection to the man who practically raised her.

~Diiiiiing~

Rhonda groaned. If she got one more chicken casserole and sympathetic smile....

"I'll get it!"

Her daughter Maggie shot off the couch, making a beeline for the front door. The nine-year old was due back in school tomorrow, but her presence had been a lifeline for her mother. Always ready with a sunny smile, Maggie still hadn't quite grasped that her great-uncle was never coming back. She only seemed to care that he wouldn't hurt anymore and was in a happier place.

Rhonda heard a familiar scrape as Maggie dragged her stool over to the door, making the child tall enough to look out the peek hole. The older woman blinked several times and wiped her hands over red eyes, silently thanking the powers that be for inventing waterproof mascara.

"Blair!"

At the name, Rhonda's head perked up. She shouldn't have been surprised it was him, but she was. Sandburg and Ellison had been camping—vacation orders from Captain Banks—while so many changes were taking place. The chain came off the front door and the stool pushed out of the way. Rhonda stood and walked into the next room, stopping to smile for only the second time that day.

Blair was desperately trying to balance Maggie on one hip and an enormous Tupperware dish on the other.

"Hi, Rhonda," he greeted, a bit red-faced.

"Hi, yourself," she replied, lightening his load by taking the Tupperware. She eyed it warily. //Please not chicken. //

"It's ostrich meat chili," Blair offered, shifting Maggie to his other hip.

Rhonda lifted the corner of the lid, receiving a waft of the tell-tale odor. She inhaled deeply. "Joel Taggart mentioned this stuff once. He said it was excellent."

"First time Joel tried it, he ate three bowels."

"And promptly got sick, I'd bet."

Blair chuckled. "Yep."

Maggie tapped Blair on the shoulder. "Wanna see my Barbie stable?"

"Maggie?" Rhonda interjected in her best 'mom' tone. "Did you finish your spelling worksheets?"

The child looked at the ground, a curtain of straight blond hair hiding her frown.

"That's what I thought." Rhonda jerked her head in the direction of the paper-strewn coffee table. "Homework first. You have school tomorrow. Then we'll do a song."

"Yes!" Maggie trilled, leaping from Sandburg's arms. She sped off to the couch.

"A song?" Blair asked.

"A few weeks ago, she saw 'Annie' for the first time," Rhonda explained, beckoning for Blair to follow her into the kitchen. "Maggie fell in love with it. She likes it when I sing Grace's part to her Annie." She made room in the over-stocked refrigerator for the new addition. "One time she asked Alan to be Daddy Warbucks, but he can't carry a tune."

"How is Alan doing?"

She knew the two men had met several times at various departmental picnics and social events and had bonded instantly. There was something about Blair Sandburg that brought out the best in people. "He's good, doing better than I am. He had to work today. Maggie's back to school tomorrow, so I should be back to the station. Coffee?"

Blair blinked at the unexpected topic change. "Sure. It hasn't been a week, has it? Are you sure it's not too—?"

"We need the money," she blurted out, blushing instantly. Why did she say that? Rhonda busied herself with the kettle and a can of Folger's. "And I heard the bullpen is a mess. Is instant okay?"

"It's fine."

She put the kettle on to boil and sat across from her guest at the kitchen table.

"You see," Blair began, hesitantly. "Money's kinda why I came."

Rhonda shook her head emphatically. "Alan's not taking anything from his family, so I can't—"

"Hey, time out." Blair's hands shot up to form a 'T.' "I wish I could offer the money, but I'm still paying off my student loans. I actually have dual purposes."

"Being?" She was intrigued now. She'd never seen the young man so intent on a subject when he wasn't working a case.

"I guess you heard about the exchange program?"

Rhonda shook her head. Blair briefly outlined Megan's dilemma. Rhonda felt close to tears as he finished. She was losing two very important people in her life, all in the space of a week.

"So why did you come to me?" Rhonda asked, balancing her voice carefully.

"Well, I think I have an answer for both of those problems. But I'll need your help."

Help? Her blue eyes went wide. "Tell me."

~*~*~*~

Blair fidgeted in his seat, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. She was late and Simon wasn't going to wait much longer. In fact, the captain in question was glaring at him at that moment. Blair glanced at Rhonda and Maggie. The little girl was happily playing with Jim's badge, flipping it open and shut like, "that noisy cop in that Jackie Chan movie." Jim was watching her from his perch on the conference table. David leaned against the wall by the windows.

Rhonda nodded to begin.

"Okay," Blair said, rubbing his hands together. "We're short one person, but we'll go ahead and start."

"It's about time, Sandburg," Simon growled. "What's this all about?"

"Money."

Simon and Jim exchanged looks. Blair knew exactly what they were thinking.

He continued. "Specifically, the annual budget and the debts against the Echo Street Theater. Rhonda and I—"

"And me!" Maggie piped up. She flipped the badge hard, sailing it over her shoulder. David reached out to snag the projectile and tossed it back to Jim, who then slipped it into his pocket.

"And Maggie," Blair added. "We have come up with a plan."

Simon settled back in his chair, seemingly resigned to giving them the benefit of the doubt. A wave of his hand was all Blair needed to continue.

"We need exactly one hundred thousand dollars. Eighty for the budget and twenty for the theater taxes. Rhonda and Alan have graciously allowed use of the Echo for a benefit theater production."

"Sandburg—"

"Hear me out, Simon. We do a production with volunteer actors and donated materials. Our only cost is advertising, programs and cleaning stuff to fix up the theater."

"The Echo has a capacity of a thousand people, Captain," Rhonda added. "If we sold out one performance at $100 a ticket, we've got the money."

"How are you going to get people to pay a hundred bucks a ticket?" Jim asked.

"Mr. Simon?" Maggie asked, bouncing across the room to stand next to the captain. "Will you be my Daddy?"

Simon's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"

Blair choked back a laugh. "Maggie wants to do 'Annie' and has volunteered you to play Oliver 'Daddy' Warbucks."

"I don't sing," Banks protested.

"Please," Maggie begged. "I'm Annie. Pleasepleasepleaseplease!" The child blinked up at the captain with shining doe eyes, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly.

//She's a natural actress, // Blair thought, watching the nine-year old's performance. Banks was putty in her hands.

"If this happens, I'll do it," Simon acquiesced.

"Yeah!" Maggie through her arms across the captain's shoulders, hugging him tight.

"To answer Jim's question," Sandburg said, making no attempt to hide his smile. "We had a couple of ideas. First, we need the mayor behind this. If we can make this an elite, have-to-be-there performance, how can any of Cascade's rich snobs say no?"

"Language like that'll get doors slammed in your face, Chief," Jim said.

"Name calling aside," Simon cut in. Maggie settled contentedly in his lap. "Do you really think me making an ass of myself and the mayor's stamp of approval will sell tickets?"

"Well...." Blair glanced at the bullpen, smiling when he saw a familiar face heading toward the office. "We have an ace up our sleeve. A special guest star."

Simon frowned. "Who?"

The captain's question was punctuated by a knock on the door. Blair leapt from his seat and opened it. A tall woman entered, her dark skin accentuated by her cream-colored dress. She flashed her dumbfounded audience a brilliant smile.

"Jim? Simon?" Blair said, closing the door as the woman stepped inside. "Starring, as the ruthless Miss Hannigan...Ms. Angie Ferris."

"Angie," Jim choked in disbelief.

"Hi, Jim," she said, crossing the space to give Jim a quick hug. Leaning on the conference table next to the detective, Angie faced Simon. "Blair called me last night with his idea. I couldn't say no. Pam's always wanted to see me in a play." She paused. "What do you think?"

No one spoke, all eyes on the captain. Very slowly, as though he was attempting to fight it, a smile crept across Simon's face.

~*~*~*~

Megan looked up from her desk when the line of people filed out of the captain's office. Every single person was smiling; something was up. She tried to catch David's eye, but was unable. They hadn't really talked about her going back to Sydney and that bothered her. She just didn't know what to say. He had become her best friend and confidante, but Megan had no idea how to express that to him.

The last person out, an attractive black woman, received numerous stares from the men in the bullpen. Megan quickly chalked it up to hormones. Then she did a double-take. She watched the woman wave to Sandburg and Ellison, then disappear into the lift.

"Sandy?" Megan called, approaching the shorter man. "Wasn't that Angie Ferris? The singer?"

"Uh, yeah," Blair replied, a bit self-conscious,

Megan's eyes widened. "She's huge in Sydney! What did she want with the captain?"

Jim cleared his throat. "We helped her out two years ago. She just stopped in to say hi."

The Inspector quirked an eyebrow. "To Rhonda and her daughter, too?"

"Maggie's a big fan," Sandburg supplied. "It was a really interesting case, actually."

"We'll tell you all about it tomorrow," Jim said.

"What's tomorrow?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"We forgot to tell you," Blair said.

"The mayor's dedicating a library and we're the babysitters," Jim said.

"We?"

"You have something better to do?"

Megan threw her paperwork-strewn desk a disdainful glare. "Not a thing."

~*~*~*~

"I'm starting to get a headache," Jim complained.

The constant chatter of the crowd; the clicks of cameras; the strong perfumes of society women. All these things were combining to form the insistent pounding behind his eyes.

Blair's voice spoke softly by his ear. "Dial it back, Jim. Leave your senses open, but keep the pain dial down."

Jim carefully pictured the mental dials, feeling the dull throb fade away. He belatedly realized Blair was speaking.

"Huh?"

"Huh?" Sandburg mimicked. "Is it better?"

"Yeah." The headache was barely there.

Jim stole a glance at Connor. She was standing at the top of the library steps, diagonal from his position. She had a look of intense concentration, watching the crowd with one eye and the mayor with the other. He admired her. She hadn't spoken a word about leaving Friday; perhaps she was hoping for a miracle. By now, they all were.

Simon's talk with the mayor last night hadn't gone well. The stout man had insisted he had too many fundraisers on his plate and they would have to live with the budget cuts. Jim had never heard Simon swear so freely as when he was relaying the conversation to him. Even Angie Ferris hadn't been able to convince the mayor.

A hush fell on the gathered crowd as Councilman Rogers approached the podium. Noble flanked him, his eyes continuously darting through the gathered press and onlookers.

"Ladies and gentlemen...."

Jim tuned out the Councilman's speech, more interested in watching the crowd. He scanned all the nearby rooftops, never too careful. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Scattered applause signaled the end of Rogers' speech. The mayor stepped forward and began to speak.

A revving engine caught Jim's attention. He cocked his head, trying to establish its origin. He felt Sandburg at his elbow, anchoring him. The sound grew louder, simultaneously moving closer to their position.

Connor's voice crackled over the mike. "Jim? What is it?"

"A car," he replied.

Jim watched the end of the black to his right. The car would be coming from that direction. Seconds later, a black Neon sped around the corner and Jim heard a new sound: the cocking of a semi-automatic. As the Neon sped up, the driver's rear window rolled down.

Time slowed down, making mere seconds take hours.

"Jim?" Blair asked, following his partner's gaze.

"Everyone, get down!" Jim shouted, shoving Sandburg to the pavement.

The crowd looked around in confusion, not sure if they should obey.

The Neon sped by the library, gunfire spewing from a semi-automatic rifle in the back window.

Jim pulled his gun. David shoved Councilman Rogers to the ground. Megan dove for the mayor, knocking him out of the hail of bullets. Jim fired at the Neon, shattering the rear windows and popping the far right tire. The car fish-tailed, but sped on.

"Sandburg, you okay?" Jim asked.

Sandburg picked himself up off the ground. "Fine, you?"

Jim nodded, seeking out his other friends. David was attempting to calm the head librarian, who kept shrieking at the top of her lungs. Megan was still hovering over the mayor, her tall, lithe form effectively shielding the squat man. She clutched her left forearm, blood squeezing out between her fingers.

"Connor?" Jim yelled.

She looked up and waved him on. "Go get them!"

That was all he needed. Jim dashed for the truck, Blair hot on his heels. Sandburg was barely in the door before Jim took off down the road. He flipped on the visor lights and began weaving in and out of traffic, desperate to catch up to the Neon. It wouldn't be difficult; the small car had slowed down significantly.

The Neon was weaving terribly, cutting off a Cadillac and sending it crashing into a fruit stand on the corner of the block. The Neon fishtailed onto a one-way street—going the wrong way.

Jim heard the inevitable crash before the Ford caught up. He double-parked on the street and hopped out, gun drawn. Blair was half a step behind. The Neon had collided head-on with a Jaguar XJ8.

"Out of the car, with your hands in the air!" Jim commanded, training his gun on the Neon. Two heartbeats were inside, both slow and steady. "Sandburg, call for back-up and check on the other car."

Blair jogged toward the Jaguar. Jim knew the men in the Neon were unconscious, but he still approached slowly. Sure enough, the driver was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from a gash in his forehead. The shooter was sprawled across the back seat with the rifle still clutched in his hand.

"Gotcha," Jim muttered.

~*~*~*~

~tap~

~tap~

~tap~

Megan sighed, pounding the keyboard in frustration. She typed up the report on yesterday's mayoral fiasco with one hand and it was going terribly slow. The hunt and peck method was coming back to haunt her. One of the gunman's bullets had struck through the fleshy part of her forearm, making it painful to move. The ER doctor had stuck her in a sling for the next four days to keep the wound still, and then sent her home. She glanced down at the smiley-face pin David had put on the white sling to "give it personality."

//I suppose my doc in Sydney will have to do the follow-up. //

A tightness settled in her throat at that thought. In forty-eight hours, she would be back home in Australia. As much as she missed her father and other co-workers, she would never stop missing Cascade or the friends she was leaving behind.

The door to the captain's office opened and Banks stuck his head out. "Connor and Noble! Ellison and Sandburg! My office!" With a nod to his secretary, he retreated back inside.

Megan stood, happy to leave the computer for a few minutes. She entered the office after David, trailed by the two most unusual men she'd ever met. As Megan settled in a chair, she noted that Rhonda had also joined them, hanging back near the door.

The captain pinned each person with a pointed look before saying, "I just got a very interesting call from the mayor. Inspector?"

//Uh-oh. He's being formal. What'd I do this time? //

"Sir?"

"Would you be willing to hang around Cascade for three more weeks?"

Megan blinked. What was he talking about? "Of course, but—"

"Three weeks?" Ellison said, straightening a bit in his chair.

"That's all?" David asked.

Banks frowned. "That's the only time he said he could fit it in. The mayor's a busy man."

"What?" Megan asked.

Rhonda stepped forward. "We're supposed to pull this off in only three weeks?"

"And the Echo needs a lot of work," Sandburg added.

Megan raised an eyebrow. "Echo?"

"He said if we did it, he'd back us one hundred percent," Simon said. "He was very impressed with Megan's performance at the dedication."

"That's wonderful!" Rhonda exclaimed.

"Wait a minute!" Megan shouted, standing. "What exactly are we talking about here?"

Banks cleared his throat. "Sandburg and Rhonda came up with a way to raise the rest of the budget, thereby keeping you, Willoughby and Forrester in Cascade." He frowned, as if a new thought had just occurred to him. "Unless you want to go back."

What could she say?

A smile broke across Megan's face. "What's the plan and what's my part?"

"Well, that depends," Simon replied.

"On what?"

This time Jim answered, a cocky grin on his handsome features. "How well can you sing?"

"Sing?"

//Oh, no. //

**~Week One~**

~Achoo!~

Blair wiped his nose, once again cursing the layers of dust that had settle into every crack and cranny of the old theater. They'd been cleaning for the past six days and had only just finished the house. The lobby was another story.

He glanced around at his cleaning crew. Henri Brown was Windexing the glass in the ticket booths, an enormous pile of used paper towels by his feet. Rhonda's husband, Alan, was on his second bottle of Pledge, trying to shine up the wooden doors that opened into the house. Noble and Willoughby, were attacking the ceiling with long-handled brooms.

Returning to his task, Blair raised a hand to unscrew an ancient lightbulb. The lighting system flickered.

"OW!"

Uh-oh. Blair scrambled for the house doors and yanked one open, the other cleaners at his back. The cast had ceased rehearsal to stare at the top of the scaffolding set up center stage, reaching high into the fly space.

"I'm fine!" Jim shouted down from the top of the scaffolding. "There's too many damn wires up here!"

"You're doing great," a voice called from the lighting booth. "We just need to check a few more circuits!" Jason Merrick had volunteered his time to help update the Echo's lighting system. Major Crime had saved his business from being blasted by a serial bomber several months ago and Jason wanted to return the favor.

"Easy for you to say!"

The cast tittered, enjoying the break.

"Hey, Jim!" Jason yelled. "How many parcans are on row four?"

A pause.

"Which ones are parcans again?"

Blair just laughed and returned to his work.

**~Week Two~**

"I'm not shaving my head and that's final!"

"Please, Mr. Simon," Maggie begged, coming out from behind Megan.

Simon's determined features immediately softened, but his resolve stayed firm. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but—"

Megan knelt down to face Maggie. "What if he just gets a really close haircut?"

Maggie looked unconvinced for several moments. The little girl felt it was imperative to stay as close to the film as possible and that meant a bald Daddy Warbucks. But she knew Megan was the director and made all the important decisions. Heaving a great sigh, Maggie conceeded. "Okay, Ms. Megan."

"Come on, munchkin," Amy West said. "Let's go see if we can find more of those molasses cookies." Amy had volunteered to play Grace after little coaxing from Blair. She owed him one, anyway.

Okay!" Maggie said. She grabbed Amy's hand and led her toward the green room.

"Good," Connor said. She looked toward the wings. "Angie, Rafe, Julia! Your scene!"

Detective Rafe and Angie Ferris materialized almost immediately, dressed in partial costume. Several minutes later, the mayor's oldest daughter Julia came traipsing onto the stage, readjusting the bow in her hair.

She looked up at the circle of people watching her. "What?"

Megan shook her head. "Places. Cue the tape for 'Easy Street.'"

**~Week Three~**

Jim watched the assembled group of faces, each one showing the strain of the past twenty days. Between days at work—school for the orphan—and nights at the Echo, no one was left unaffected. Tonight was the final dress rehearsal, a time for the production to come together....at least, that was the plan.

Besides missing props, disappearing costumes and flickering strip lights, the entire cast was still getting used to the new "orchestra." Some friends of Brown's were in a fledgling band and had volunteered their services in exchange for free publicity. It was truly a unique experience to hear "Little Girls" played to an electric guitar.

Cascade had been kind the last few weeks. Crime was at a record low. It was as if the entire city was taking a vacation just for them.

//Don't say that out loud, Ellison. You'll jinx yourself and wake up to three homicides and a burglary. //

Jim chuckled at the thought, receiving a curious glance from his partner. Sandburg sat half-lotus on the edge of the stage, clipboard in hand, awaiting any final notes from Connor. Once their cleaning duties were complete, he and Alan had volunteered to manage the backstage during the performances. Jim shook his head at Sandburg's questioning stare.

The younger man returned his attention to his conversation with Alan. Jim resumed his mental scan of the theater. He would be in charge of security tomorrow night, but he didn't want anything too obvious. This was a fundraiser, not a police action. All of the ushers would be cops. Maybe—

"Ellison!"

Whipping his head around, Jim found all eyes on him. Connor was tapping her pen against the clipboard, waiting for him to answer the question he hadn't heard her ask.

"I'm sorry," Jim said. "What?"

Megan sighed. "Do you have anything else, before we begin?"

//Damn. Wish I knew what she's said already. // "Um, nothing, no."

"All right, then. Let's get started, shall we?"

**~Opening Night~**

Blair stood in the darkened wings, watching Maggie and Simon perform "Together At Last." Rhonda's daughter was enjoying herself immensely, belting out the tune with the power of an opera star. The proud mother was at his elbow, watching Maggie intently, unable to mask her pride.

There was a slight commotion near the stage door. Blair craned his neck and saw Alan bound through the door, waving a slip of paper. Alan paused momentarily, adjusting his eyes to the darkness, then crept over to Blair and Rhonda.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Rhonda whispered.

"The totals for the ticket sales," Alan said, his expression rather glazed.

"How much?" Blair hissed, moving the conversation away from the wings.

"One hundred and ten thousand," Alan replied.

"Dollars?" Blair asked, feeling a bit faint. "How—?'

"Like you said, a sell-out crowd."

"But what about that extra ten thousand?" Rhonda asked.

"Private donations received during intermission. Isn't that wonderful? Only one check came with a stipulation."

Blair cocked an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Alan waggled his brow. "He wants Angie Ferris's autograph.

"Wait until we tell Megan and the others," Rhonda said, bouncing a bit in her excitement. "And we'll get to keep Uncle Jake's theater."

"And it sounds like there'll be some seed money to get the place up and running full-time, again," Blair observed.

The musical number was reaching its peek, signaling the near end of the show. Blair whispered, "Keep this quiet. We'll announce it at the wrap party."

After his fellow conspirators nodded, Blair began to line up the "orphans" for the curtain call.

~*~*~*~

The announcement of the final earnings—one hundred and twelve thousand dollars—baffled both cast and crew. Champagne circulated among the volunteers—ginger ale for the children—and glasses were raised in an excited toast. The "orchestra" was playing a hearty rendition of "Easy Street" in the background.

Simon stepped away from the crowd, clearing his throat. "To the hard work of everyone in this room. You were all invaluable in pulling this off."

"To Miss Angie Ferris," Brown said. "For lending her beautiful voice and wicked acting talent to create a truly—uh, memorable Miss Hannigan."

Angie smiled and raised her glass. "To Blair Sandburg." The young man in question blushed. "Who cooked up this brilliant plan and was thoughtful enough to include me in it."

Sandburg appeared at a loss for words, receiving a playful cuff from Jim. "Um, to the, uh, the reincarnation of the Echo Street Theater."

"Here, here!" Rhonda shouted, snuggling contentedly between her husband and her daughter.

"To the mayor," Rafe said, throwing a pointed look at Julia. "For giving the project his blessing and agreeing to keep our friends in the States."

Megan stepped forward from her place next to Forrester and Willoughby. "To the best friends I never expected to find here. Thank you for your loyalty and support." She glanced over at David, who smiled warmly.

Jim stepped up to here, placing his left hand on Megan's shoulder. His smile reflected only warmth and friendship. "To friends," he said, quietly.

Sandburg followed suit, taking his place by Jim's side. "To family."

Forty-three people raised cups and glasses of all sizes. In stereo, they shouted, "Here, here!"

~End~

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