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his stomach. And to think, visiting the psychologist was supposedly helpful. 
    “I’m suggesting that you visit Viper in prison.”
    “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michael said, his tone full of disbelief.
    “ No, I’m not.  Talking face to face has proven to be good therapy, not only for you, but it’ll help Viper as well.  I’m going to call Rikers and put in a visiting order.  It will only go through if Viper is willing to allow you to see him. It’s something you need to think about.  I think it’d be beneficial.  Many victims find that facing the culprit helps, especially if they see them being reformed in the prison system.”
    “Reformed?  The prison system just makes them worse.”  He buried his face in his hands.  “I’m not okay with this, Dr. Bowen.”
    He stood up to leave and felt her hand grasp his arm. “Just think about it, McGinnis.  I know it’s not something you can decide immediately.  Next week, we’ll discuss it more.”
    Looking down at her, he nodded and left the office, feeling as if ten more tons of bricks had been added on to the load he was already carrying on his shoulders. 
    He didn’t feel like messing with a subway so he hailed a taxi and rode to the stationhouse with his mind in a haze.  If the cab driver was speaking to him, he wasn’t aware of it.  He couldn’t get Dr. Bowen’s words out of his m ind.  He grew up as a Catholic so he knew how important forgiveness was.  The only problem was he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Visiting Viper in prison didn’t seem to be a good idea to him.  He felt it was ignorant of her to even suggest it. 
    The cab edged to the curb and Michael handed the man his fare.  Getting out, he nodded toward Walsh who was out, smoking a cigarette.  He e xtended the package to Michael and he declined.
    “You don’t look so good, Mikey. Rough morning?”
    “Rough is an understatement.”
    Walsh pursed his lips as he exhaled the smoke .  “And it’s just a little after nine AM. Not too shabby.”
    Michael leaned against the brick wall behind them and looked up at the grey clouds.  “It’s times like th is I wish I had never stopped smoking.”  He took in Gregg’s second hand smoke, savoring the memories of how a cigarette used to be so calming to his nerves.  “I miss anything so far?”
    “Not a damn thing.  Been quiet since I got here at seven.  They picked up a three alarmer earlier, but since then it’s been dead.”
    “I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. I’ m gonna go tell Captain Rooker that I’m here.” He walked back to his office and knocked on the door. 
    “Firefighter McGinnis, come on in!”
    “Hey Sir, was just letting you know I’m here now.” He turned to leave.
    “Hold on there, McGinnis. How’d it go?” There was a genuine look of concern on his face.
    “Going good.  Everything’s good, Cap.”
    The fire alarm went off, paging out both the engine and ladder trucks to an apartment fire.  Michael slid down the pole and slipped into his turnouts.  “So much for it being dead, eh Walsh?”
    “Bite me, Mc Ginnis,” Walsh replied, smiling at him. “It’s all because of you, Mikey.  All because of you.”
    The address was just a few blocks from the house.  On the ride over, Michael clenched his hands open and shut as his mouth suddenly became dry.  Moisture formed under his gloves and his pulse felt out of control.  Before a fire, nerves always ran wild, but he had never felt this type of emotion before.  He was unsure of himself, as if he was a probie on the first day of the job again.
    Pulling up to the fire, Michael’s eyes immediately went to the floor where the flames were shooting in every direction. It appeared to be up on the seventh floor.  All of his fellow firefighters hopped off the truck and began their duties.  Michael was the last one, his gaze still up high on the building.  Since he had been back, he had to deal with a small