~ Next of Kin ~
by Jae
jae_s1978@yahoo.de

DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all its characters are property of Dick Wolf and NBC. This story was written strictly for entertainment, and no profit is intended. The characters of Dawn Kinsley, Del Vasquez, and their families and friends are mine. Please don't use them without my permission.
The song "Typical Male" was composed by Terry Britten & Graham Lyle and performed by Tina Turner. A few lines of the lyrics were used without permission. No profit is intended.
SUMMARY: Olivia's private and professional lives collide when Dawn's newest patient gets in trouble with the law. Alex finds herself with two secret admirers-but which one is more dangerous, the threat to her life or her heart?
PAIRING: Olivia Benson/female original character; Alex Cabot/female original character
RATING: NC-17 (for some parts of the story)
SEQUEL: This is a sequel to my story "Conflict of Interest". You should really read the first story, otherwise this one probably won't make much sense. "Next of Kin" takes place in 2002. The story starts three months after "Conflict of Interest" ended.
AUTHOR NOTES: English is not my native language, so please be patient with me.
THANKS: A very big thank you goes to my beta readers Pam and Chris for their corrections and valuable input. I couldn't have done this without you! I'd also like to thank my first reader Margot. A big thank you to Roxanne for making it possible to publish my previous story, "Backwards to Oregon", with L-Book (http://l-book.com) and to Pam, Ruth, RJ, and Fran for their support.
WARNING: This story deals with the subject of rape and its aftermath, although without graphic descriptions.
SPOILERS: References to episodes from seasons 1-3.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

"What are you wearing?" a sultry voice purred through the phone.

Olivia closed the file she had been reading and tossed it on top of the others that were scattered all over her desk. She pressed the phone against her ear and whirled the desk chair around, trying to obtain a minimum of privacy in a room full of nosy detectives. She cupped a hand around the receiver and lowered her voice. "What am I wearing?" she repeated with a disbelieving smile.

"Ooooh, Benson's got an obscene caller!" John Munch announced.

The detectives crowded around Olivia's desk, and she waved at them to go away.

"Yeah," the female voice at the other end of the line answered. "Or rather: What aren't you wearing?"

Olivia tipped her chair back and laughed, relaxing for the first time all day. "You're sexually harassing a sex crimes detective at her workplace? My, my, you're a daring woman, Doctor Kinsley!"

"Daring? No. Concerned? Yes," Dawn answered, finally giving up on her attempts to sound seductive. "I have seen neither hide nor hair of you for the last three days, and the mountains of mail in your mailbox tell me that you haven't made it home since Thursday."

She hadn't. Olivia sighed. "I'm sorry-"

"No," Dawn interrupted. "I didn't call to make you feel bad. You're doing your job, and you don't have to apologize for that. I just thought you could probably use a change of clothes by now. Unless, of course, the NYPD has a new interrogation technique, and you want to get a confession from the perp, just because he can't stand to be in the same room with you any longer."

Olivia laughed for a second then her face once again took on the grim expression she could see on the faces of her colleagues. "We have to catch him before we can force a confession, by offensive smell or otherwise."

"You will," Dawn said quietly. "It just takes a little time."

Time his next victim doesn't have. Still, Dawn's belief in her felt good.

"So do you want me to drive by the precinct later to bring you a change of clothes?" Dawn asked.

Olivia looked around the busy squad room. It was Saturday evening, but there were still two dozen detectives and police officers working on finding a serial rapist. Olivia's sexual orientation and her relationship with Dawn were not exactly a secret, but it wasn't something she talked about at work either. Most of her colleagues hadn't commented one way or the other, and she was loath to rub it in their faces.

Dawn seemed to notice her hesitation. "I could pick up a change of clothes from your apartment and send them by bike courier, if that would be-"

Fuck that "don't ask, don't tell" bullshit! Olivia's patience had already been wearing thin after working the case for thirty-six hours straight, and she lost what little patience had remained when she heard Dawn's careful response. "No, I want to see you, not some bike messenger."

At her outburst, even the normally oblivious Kenny Briscoe looked up from his work. A few other detectives gave her curious stares, probably wondering to whom she was talking.

Olivia wearily rubbed her face, trying to hide her blush from her colleagues.

"Okay," Dawn said after a while. "I'll be over a little later. I'm having dinner with my mom, and I'll stop by on my way home."

Olivia's stomach growled. She couldn't even remember the last time she had eaten anything, much less a home-cooked meal. "Tell Grace I said 'hi'."

"I will. I love you."

"Uh…" Olivia glanced around the squad room. There goes my tough cop reputation. "I…"

Dawn laughed. "You don't have to say it. I know that the boys are probably listening to every word you say."

"Yeah," Olivia grumbled. "They're a nosy bunch."

"I'll let you go now," Dawn said after a moment of silence. "See you later."

"Dawn?"

"Yeah? Don't worry. I won't bring your sexy undies to work. I'll search for a pair of sensible granny panties," Dawn assured her with a giggle.

Olivia's tense features relaxed into a smile. "I love you," she said into the receiver before she put it down.

Fin leaned across his desk. "How's the li'l doc?"

Olivia looked up, a sharp retort on her lips, but when she saw nothing but sincerity in her colleague's brown eyes, she leaned back again and rubbed tired eyes. "She's fine." She picked up the file again.

"Don't you know that by heart now?" Elliot asked, looking up from his own file and pointing at hers.

Olivia stared down at the crime scene report until the print became blurry. "There has to be something we're missing." She threw down her file and rubbed the back of her tense neck, then trudged across the squad room to the coffee maker. By now, only coffee, adrenaline, and stubborn determination were keeping her awake.

"Why don't you lie down in the crib for an hour or two?" Elliot suggested. "If there's anything in there you're missing, you won't find it while you're this exhausted."

Olivia put down her cup of coffee. She knew Elliot was right. "You'll wake me the moment there's a new lead?"

"You'll be the first to know," Elliot promised.

With a tired nod, Olivia headed for the stairs.
Dawn stepped off the elevator, surprised to see the precinct's hallway was still busy even on a Saturday night. Carefully balancing her armful of bags and containers, she pushed through the glass doors announcing "Special Victims Unit" and entered the squad room.

She had visited the squad room before but under very different circumstances. Just six months ago, she had been one of the victims whose pictures were hanging on the dry erase board now. A shiver raced across her skin, almost making her drop her packages. She took a deep breath and stepped further into the room.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?" A young plain-clothes detective quickly blocked her way.

Dawn nodded. "I'm searching for Detective Benson." She pointed over the young Latino detective's shoulder to where she knew Olivia's desk was.

Olivia was nowhere to be seen, but Elliot stood up from his desk and greeted her with a warm smile. "It's all right, Sandoval," he said to his younger colleague, and then, more in Dawn's direction, "She's welcome here anytime."

"Hey, Dawn!" Fin shouted from across the room. "After havin' to stare at my partner's ugly mug all day, you're a sight for sore eyes!"

Munch ignored him. "Hello, Doctor." He stepped closer, both hands pressed to his stiff back, and peered into the bags that Dawn carried. "Do you come bearing gifts?"

"Yes. My mother and I combined forces to make sure that New York's finest wouldn't go hungry tonight." Dawn set down her bags on the closest desk and began to hand out containers of still steaming food. She just smiled at the promises of eternal salvation from half a dozen hungry cops.

The door to Captain Cragen's office opened and the bald-headed man stepped out. "What's going on?" He frowned as he glanced at his men who were crowding around Olivia's desk. "Is there a new lead?"

Dawn froze. She knew Olivia's friends and colleagues would welcome her anytime, but she wasn't so sure about her captain. Not only was she an outsider in this group of cops, a civilian who shouldn't even be here, but she knew Olivia had also taken a lot of criticism from her superiors for starting a relationship with a former victim.

"No, just an upstanding citizen bringing us nourishment," John Munch answered, undauntedly digging into his food.

The group of cops around Dawn parted as the captain stepped closer, suddenly giving him a direct view at Dawn. The frown on his face deepened for a second when he recognized her. "Doctor…Kinsley, right?"

Dawn swallowed and nodded.

"She's just here to drop off a change of clothes for Liv," Elliot came to her rescue. "Kathy already dropped off mine earlier."

Dawn suppressed a smile. She knew Elliot was telling his captain that he had to respect the relationship between her and Olivia the same way he respected his marriage to Kathy. "Yeah, and having done that, I'll go and leave you to your work now."

"Dr. Kinsley," the captain's deep voice made her turn back around. "I think she's up there, in the crib, taking a nap. I'm sure she would kill her partner if he let you leave without seeing her, so why don't you go and wake her up before her dinner gets cold?"

Dawn stared at him.

The captain's hazel eyes softened, and he gave her an encouraging nod. "Go on." He pointed to the stairs leading up to the crib.

"Thank you, Captain." Dawn pressed one of her home-cooked dinners into the surprised man's hands and hurried to the stairs before he could change his mind.

"Wow," Miguel 'Mike' Sandoval, on loan from narcotics for the duration of this case, murmured with admiration, "who was that? She's not on the job, is she?"

Elliot settled down at his desk to eat his dinner. "No, she isn't. She's a psychologist."

"Huh." Sandoval was quiet for a moment. "Is she married?"

Elliot almost choked on his dinner. He set down his fork. "Whatever you're thinking-forget it, rookie!"

"Why?" Sandoval grinned his boyish grin and dug into his dinner. "She's gorgeous; she holds down a steady job, and she can cook-she's exactly the kind of woman my mama wants me to bring home."

"Your mama might be all right with you bringing her home, but Benson might object," Elliot answered, pointing his fork at Sandoval.

"Why, she her girlfriend, or what?" The young Mexican laughed at his own perceived joke. Slowly, his laughter died down when he looked into the smug faces of his colleagues.

Elliot merrily stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. "Yep."

"Oh." Mike Sandoval sat down heavily and scratched his head. "So asking Benson out wouldn't be a good idea either, huh?"

"What is this, my squad room, where serious business is conducted, or a dating service?" Captain Cragen shouted from the door of his office. "Go back to work, people!"
Dawn quietly opened the door the Captain had indicated. The room was dark, and she needed a second to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She silently paused in the doorway, not sure if there was anyone else sleeping on one of the cots. Finally, her eyes got used to the darkness, and she could make out a single form huddled under a blanket.

She had slept next to Olivia enough times to know it was she. The way she slept on her back, the door within easy view every time she woke, was typical for her cop girlfriend. Olivia was tossing and turning every few seconds, and one of her hands was clenched around the blanket.

Dawn didn't need her PhD in psychology to know that Olivia was stressed. This case, like so many others, was really getting to her.

Quietly, taking care not to stumble in the darkness, Dawn inched closer. She sat down on the edge of the cot and peered down at her sleeping lover. The shirt that peeked out from under the blanket was wrinkled, and Olivia's short hair was disheveled. There was a frown on her face, even while she slept.

Dawn couldn't resist. She bent down to kiss the frown off her face. Her lips softly touched the corner of Olivia's mouth.

"What…?!" Olivia jerked upright. She stared at Dawn, blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then looked at her again. "If this is a dream, please don't wake me."

Dawn ran a hand through Olivia's hair, combing the tousled strands back into some semblance of order. "If this was a dream, I wouldn't bring you fresh underwear; I would be in my underwear." When Olivia didn't react to the joke, she wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

Olivia's breath washed over Dawn's neck as she exhaled. She could feel Olivia's tense muscles relax against her. "Come on," she said after a few seconds, "your dinner is getting cold."

Olivia moved back a few inches to stare at her. "You brought me dinner, and you left it downstairs with the twenty famished cops in the squad room? Do you honestly think they're above petty theft just because they're supposed to uphold the law?"

"No need for jealousy, Detective. I brought enough for everyone." Dawn softly grasped her hand and pulled her up from the cot, enjoying Olivia's sensual, catlike stretches for a few seconds.

Olivia followed her to the door, then stopped. "Sometimes I think this can't be for real," she murmured.

"The case?"

"You." Olivia lifted her hand and touched Dawn's cheek with a single finger. "Us."

Dawn put her hand over Liv's and pressed it against her face, solidifying their contact. "It is real."

"Yeah. But you waiting around for me, playing second fiddle to my job, and instead of complaining when I don't call you for three days, you come and bring me food and clothes…it just seems too good to be true," Olivia said, her voice almost a whisper.

"My Dad, and my brother, and my ex-husband were cops-I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I made a play for you," Dawn told her.

Olivia arched a skeptical eyebrow, as Dawn had expected her to. "You made a play for me? Excuse me, Doc, but that's not the way I remember it."

Dawn was glad to feel Olivia's mood shift, and she answered her smile with one of her own. "Oh, you mean that lame attempt to ask me out to dinner?" she teased.

"Lame attempt?" Olivia echoed. "If I remember correctly, you agreed quite willingly."

"Liv!" Elliot burst through the door, nearly running them over. "Warner called! There's DNA evidence on the last victim. We got a name and an address!"

Dawn watched Olivia transform from gentle lover to determined cop before her eyes. Olivia bent down to pick up her badge and service weapon from their place next to the cot, and when she turned back around, the formerly soft chocolate brown eyes were filled with steely determination. "Let's go."

A quick thank you and one last glance to Dawn, and they were gone.

Dawn listened to their retreating steps on the stairs with a sigh. "Be safe," she whispered into the darkness of the empty room.


The underground garage was almost empty. At this time on a Saturday night, most other attorneys and paralegals had long since gone home. The high heels of Alex Cabot's shoes clacked on the concrete, sounding eerily loud in the silence of the night.

The creepy feeling of being watched accompanied her as she crossed the parking level.

Alex gripped the strap of her briefcase tighter and clenched her other hand around her car keys. She strode toward her BMW as fast as her tight skirt and high-heeled pumps would allow.

A sound echoed through the garage, and she whirled around.

Nothing. The garage was still empty.

"You're becoming paranoid, Alexandra Cabot," she murmured to herself. This wasn't the first time she had felt like somebody was watching her, but whenever she glanced over her shoulder, no one was there.

Reaching her car, she settled into the driver's seat with a sigh of relief and remembered a very similar situation just a few months ago.
After another long day in court and an even longer evening pouring over witness statements, crime scene reports, and evidence lists, Alex had left the office long after everyone else.

Steps echoed through the underground garage behind her. Alex turned around, expecting to see one of the D.A.'s interns hurrying after her with just one more document she had to review before tomorrow.

Nobody was there.

Alex shivered and lengthened her stride. Leaving the office on her own, walking to her car alone in the darkness had never been a problem for her. Even after working with Special Victims for two years, she was not one to be particularly afraid of being attacked. She had always felt safe, knowing that her Cabot confidence and the pepper spray in her purse would chase away almost every attacker.

But during the last few weeks, that feeling of safety had somehow started to vanish. There had been no threats-at least not more than usual-and she couldn't really put her finger on it, but when she was alone, leaving the office at night or going for her morning run, she had started to feel like she was being watched lately.

Maybe it's just the trial, Alex told herself. Since the beginning of the trial last week, Alex had put herself under a lot of pressure. It wasn't just her usual determination to win. Olivia seemed to have a somewhat personal connection to one of the victims, Dawn Kinsley, and that was enough for Alex to put everything she had into winning this trial.

A steel door banged shut somewhere behind Alex. She fished for her car keys, not only to be able to make a quick escape into her car should it become necessary, but also to have some kind of weapon in her hand. She pressed the small button on her car key.

The flash of the BMW's blinkers revealed a dark figure lurking right next to her car.

Alex froze in fear.

The tall person took a step closer; the face still shrouded in darkness.

There was no time for thinking as Alex's fight-or-flight reflexes took over. Her Cabot genes weren't much for running away, so she thrust her keys into the attacker's side and used the seconds while he was cradling his hurting ribs to duck under his arm and run for the safety of her car.

But her attacker was faster. A long-fingered hand prevented her from opening the door on the driver side. "Is that how you usually say hello, Counselor?"

Alex whirled around to face her attacker. The voice was distorted with pain, but definitely female. In the grayish light in the underground garage, she could make out the features of a tall Latina woman. She seemed a little familiar, but Alex was sure they had never been introduced. Still, the woman seemed to know her. "Who are you?" Alex demanded to know, bravely trying to keep her voice from trembling.

The tall woman began to reach into the pocket of her jacket, but stopped when she saw Alex's eyes widen in alarm and her hand reach into her purse, probably anticipating her to pull out a weapon of some kind. "Don't worry, I'm a cop. I just want to show you my badge."

Alex hesitantly let go of her pepper spray. The rest of her fear and tension vanished as she stared down at the gold shield and ID that identified her "attacker" as Lieutenant Delicia Vasquez Montero. Instead, anger began to stir. "The police usually make an appointment through my assistant and visit my office when they want to meet with me. They don't usually ambush me in dark and lonely places," she told her curtly.

Lieutenant Vasquez gave her a sheepish grin. "Not the best way to introduce myself," she admitted, "and usually I'm a lot smoother, but…there's something I have to discuss with you, and Detective Benson told me that I would probably still find you in your office. I didn't want to miss you, in case you'd already left your office and were on the way home, so …"

"So you decided to lurk behind my car," Alex finished her sentence.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," the lieutenant said.

Alex put her car keys away. "You didn't scare me," she insisted.

"Of course not," Del Vasquez readily agreed. "Listen, can we talk?"

Alex still didn't know what to make of this strange meeting. She had no intention of talking to this ambushing lieutenant before she had a chance to regain her composure. "Of course," she told her in a businesslike tone of voice, "if you'd be so kind as to make an appointment with my assistant, we can talk all you want."

Lieutenant Vasquez didn't remove her hand from the door of Alex's car. "There's no time to make an official appointment. You're already in the middle of the trial that I need to talk about."

Alex glanced at her through narrowed eyes. "You're not with Special Victims." It was a statement, not a question. She knew every detective who worked sex crimes in New York.

"No. I'm with the homicide unit."

"The case I'm trying is not a homicide," Alex pointed out with growing irritation. But this could very well become one if you continue to waylay me!

"I know. My connection to the case is not a professional one." Dark eyes looked right into Alex's, sending a silent message of urgency.

Alex tilted her face, a bit irritated that she had to look up at the older woman. "What's that supposed to mean, Lieutenant?"

"It means my connection to the case is a personal one-one I don't want to discuss in the middle of a parking garage. Have you had dinner yet?" Del Vasquez asked.

Dinner? Alex suppressed an unladylike snort. She hadn't even had lunch today. She shook her had. "Not yet, no."

"Then let's go to that little Italian place right around the corner," Del Vasquez suggested. "We can grab a bite to eat, and I can tell you what was so important that I decided to 'lurk behind your car'."

That sounded sensible enough, and Alex wanted to know what connection this stranger could possibly have to her case. She hated to be surprised in open court. She locked her car again and followed the lieutenant out of the parking garage.
Del nodded a thank you at the waiter when he set down a spicy pasta dish in front of her. She skeptically eyed the mixed salad with slices of chicken that Alex Cabot had ordered, but said nothing.

"So?" the A.D.A. prompted, without even having tasted her food.

"Well, with what I'm about to tell you, I think I should start with a proper introduction," Del said with a smile that she hoped was charming. "I'm Lieutenant Del Vasquez with the 9th precinct." She offered her hand across the table.

A.D.A. Cabot's body might have been slender and she might have considered picking at a salad dinner, but her handshake was firm and the gaze that met Del's was confident. Del had already been impressed by what she had seen of the A.D.A. during opening statements and her examination of the witnesses, and now she found that respect growing.

"So, what is this connection to the case you have been mentioning?" Alex asked again.

She doesn't waste any time, huh? Del set down her fork with a sigh. She knew she would have to out herself with her next words. She wasn't in the closet by any means, but she also tried to keep her private and her work life strictly separate. Outing herself as a lesbian to a New York County Assistant District Attorney was not on her list of preferred things to do. Still, she would do it if it would help to put Garett Ballard behind bars. "I went to the club with Dawn Kinsley on the night she was raped. I want you to call me to the stand, so I can testify that she never spoke to Garret Ballard." Alex Cabot seemed to prefer the direct approach, so Del got right to the point.

The young A.D.A. took a moment to unfold her napkin and put it on her lap. When she looked up, her patrician features were calm and her blue eyes looked directly into Del's. If she was surprised by Del's sudden revelation, she certainly hid it well. "My detectives tell me that Dr. Kinsley is currently not in a relationship, so what is your connection to her?"

The casual, but pointed, question surprised Del.

Alex Cabot leaned forward. Her ice blue eyes seemed to pierce Del. "Let me be frank, Lieutenant. I don't like to be surprised by information that comes up during the examination or cross-examination of a witness. If I call you to the stand, chances are that opposing counsel will dig into Dr. Kinsley's love life-and into your own. Are you prepared for that?"

It wasn't exactly something Del was looking forward to, but she would do it for Dawn. "I'll do whatever is necessary to put that bastard behind bars," she answered. "And no, I'm not Dawn's lover, if that's what you are asking in your lawyerly politically correct way. I'm an old friend of her family. Her father was my partner on the force before he died."

"You visited the club with Dr. Kinsley on a regular basis?" Alex asked.

Del shook her head. "Neither of us is a regular. Some friends of hers talked her into going that night, and I went with them to make sure they wouldn't abandon Dawn for some hotties with beer."

"And?" Alex leaned forward, the intense blue eyes now fully concentrated on Del and her answer. "Did they?"

"No. I did." Del tried to wash down the bitter taste in her mouth with a healthy gulp of wine. Apart from not saving her partner's life, leaving Dawn behind in that club was the biggest regret of her life.

The blue eyes lost their steely sparkle for a moment. Alex seemed to sense that this was something over which Del had beat herself up for the last month. "What do you mean?" Her voice now had the same tone she used to coax a reluctant witness into talking.

"I left the club before Dawn did because all that smoke and the flashing lights were getting on my nerves." Del emptied her wine glass with jerky movements.

"Even if you had personally seen Dr. Kinsley home, it wouldn't have changed a thing," Alex told her.

Del stabbed at her pasta. "I know." She sighed. "But at least I could have told the jury that Dawn never spoke to Ballard the whole time she was in the club. Now I can't attest to that."

"We can work around that," Alex assured her. "A witness who can testify that she never spoke to Ballard when she entered the club is better than nothing. And if you are an old friend of the family, you can also testify to the fact that Dr. Kinsley identifies as a lesbian and would never consider a one-night stand with a man. If you're willing to testify, knowing that it will probably out you to judge, jury, and all the people in the gallery, that is."

Del nodded without hesitation.

"All right." Alex put away her still untouched plate and laid down a legal pad in its place. "Then let's go over the questions I'll ask you on the stand."

They left the restaurant an hour later, and Del insisted on seeing Alex to her car.

Alex settled into the driver's seat and gave her a nod before reaching out to close the door.

"Oh, Counselor?" Del waited until Alex looked up. "Next time," she said, pointing to Alex's car keys that dangled from the ignition, "aim for the eyes."


Dawn opened the door to the small kitchen, where she found Janet McNamara, her colleague and friend, digging into a piece of cheesecake with almost orgasmic delight. She entered and began to rummage through the cupboard in search of tea. "Tough case?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Aren't they all?" Janet answered around a forkful of cake.

Dawn shrugged and sat down at the table while she waited for the water to boil.

"So, what's got you smiling all morning?" Janet asked when she had eaten every last crumb.

An uninterrupted Sunday in bed with the incredible Olivia Benson, Dawn thought with a grin. Olivia and her colleagues still hadn't caught the serial rapist they had wanted to arrest on Saturday. By the time they had arrived at his apartment, he had disappeared, but there was an arrest warrant out on him, and Cragen sent his detectives home, knowing there was nothing else they could do at the moment. They had spent a lazy Sunday with each other, the first uninterrupted date in weeks. "What, I'm not allowed to smile on a Monday morning? Is that an unwritten rule in this office you failed to tell me about when I agreed to work with you back in December?"

Janet threatened her with her fork. "Don't try that with me!"

Dawn schooled her features into the innocent expression she had seen on her niece every time the girl had pulled one of her stunts. "Try what?"

"Answering questions with questions," Janet said. "I don't let my patients get away with these cop outs, and I certainly won't let you get away with it."

Dawn spooned sugar into her tea. "No professional courtesy, huh?"

"Nope." Janet flashed a grin at her. "So tell me, who's the new guy?"

Dawn froze, the cup of tea halfway to her mouth. "New guy?" she echoed lamely. "What makes you think there's someone new in my life?"

Janet shrugged. "Maybe not necessarily new, but there's someone who puts that smile on your face. And don't think I didn't notice that you answered my question with a question again. So?"

Oh, boy. Dawn had gotten back in touch with her old friend from college only four months ago, and she still hadn't told her that she had discovered her romantic interests lay with women, not with men. The last time the topic of relationships had come up in a conversation with Janet, Dawn had still been married.

"Come on, admit it," Janet prompted, "it's that hot detective that seems to be in and out of here every other day."

Dawn blinked. Had they been that obvious? She had tried to be really discreet when Olivia stopped by at her office. "Yes," she answered simply. Janet didn't seem to be shocked, so there was no reason to deny it.

Janet raised a cautioning eyebrow. "You've seen the ring on his finger, right?"

"What?!" Dawn sputtered into her tea.

"Don't tell me you didn't know he's married?"

Slowly, Dawn realized that the "hot detective" Janet was talking about was not Liv, but her partner, who had accompanied her a few times. She started to laugh. "Oh, no, Detective Stabler's wife has nothing to fear from me. It's his partner I'm interested in."

"His p-" Janet's eyes widened when she remembered who that was. "You don't mean…? You…?"

"I'm in love with her." She had said those words quite often to Olivia in the past two months, but rarely had she told other people about her feelings for Olivia, and it still made her a little nervous to wait for the reaction. She held her breath until Janet relaxed again.

Janet leaned back in her chair to study her colleague. "So you finally found out why you weren't happy in your marriage, huh?"

"That would be one of the reasons, yes," Dawn agreed. She watched her old friend closely, still unsure about her reaction to this revelation.

"Well, in that case…" Janet stood, shoved her chair back, and kneeled down in front of Dawn.

Dawn white-knuckled her cup of tea. "W-what are you doing?"

Janet laughed. "I'm not proposing marriage or anything, don't worry. I'm merely groveling for a favor."

"You know, people like you are responsible for the rumor that psychologists are a bit wacky themselves," Dawn said, shaking her head. "Get up off the floor, you goof! What favor?" she asked when Janet was finally back on her feet.

"Well, I've just seen this new patient of mine sitting in the waiting room on my way in…"

Dawn stared at her. "You have a patient waiting, and you're sitting here, eating cheesecake and interrogating me about my love life?"

"She's half an hour early," Janet defended herself.

Dawn nodded. They both knew that coming to sessions early, late or not showing up at all was often nothing more than a patient's attempt to show their therapist who had the control over their therapy sessions. Dawn always tried not to get involved in these power games.

"Mrs. Phillips said her mother dropped her off and that she was probably glad to be rid of her for a while," Janet explained wryly.

Dawn nodded. She knew Mrs. Phillips, their office manager and receptionist, had a keen eye and was good at reading people. "Rebellious teenager, huh?"

"Poster child for rebellion," Janet agreed. "Leather jacket, tattoo, thumb ring, the works. And I have a feeling she would be more interested in your sweetheart than in Detective Stabler, too."

Dawn gave her a smirk. "You're not stereotyping at all, are you?"

"Maybe. But I'd rather err on the side of caution. You know there are studies indicating that therapy is often more effective for a gay patient when the therapist is homosexual as well," Janet pointed out.

"You're not just saying that because you want to stay in here and eat cheesecake instead of trying to talk to a troubled teen, are you?" Dawn fixed her with a mock stern gaze.

"One piece of cheesecake is enough for me, thank you very much. Some of us are still searching for Mr. Right." Janet patted her stomach. "But seriously, if you have the time, I have a feeling you'd be better equipped to reach this particular patient."

Dawn glanced at her watch. She had more than enough time for an intake interview with the teenager before her next patient arrived. "All right. If it's okay with the girl, I'll take her off your hands."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll eat that second piece of cheesecake after all," Janet said with a grin.

"So we're okay?" Dawn asked, studying her old friend. "You're okay with-"

"With you being gay?"

Dawn nodded.

"Well, it's a bit of a surprise, but when I think about it…I can see you with a woman and that female detective…she's no slouch in the looks department. Next time she comes visiting you at the office, you'll have to introduce us," Janet said.

"Sure." Dawn put her empty cup into the dishwasher and went to get the teenager's intake form from Mrs. Phillips.

"Cade Whitfield" was scrawled across the blank space titled "name" on the top of the crumpled piece of paper. The date of birth told her that her new patient was sixteen. The girl had checked only the option "other" in the list of problems that she was having and had filled in "shrinks" on the line where she was supposed to describe that "other problem". The names listed under "previous therapy/counseling" read like the who's who of New York City's psychologists.

"Thanks a lot, Janet," Dawn muttered. She straightened her shoulders and walked over to the waiting room. "Miss Whitfield?"

The only patient in the waiting room didn't look up. The dark-haired girl's head was bobbing up and down to the loud music that blared out of her earphones.

Dawn walked over and pulled one of the earbuds from the girl's ear.

"Hey!" The girl shot up from the chair that she'd tipped back against the wall. Brown eyes glared down at Dawn from under short, shaggy brown hair. Cade Whitfield obviously enjoyed the fact that she was already taller than Dawn.

"Hello, Miss Whitfield," Dawn greeted her calmly and extended a hand. "I'm Doctor Kinsley."

Cade Whitfield ignored the offered hand and folded leather jacket-clad arms across her chest. "So?"

"Why don't you come with me to my office and take a seat?" Dawn continued without paying the girl's provocation any attention.

"Take a seat? I thought I was supposed to lie down on the couch?" the teenager asked sarcastically, but at least she followed Dawn as she led the way to her office.

Dawn shrugged. "Whatever works for you is fine with me, but personally, I like to look people in the eye while I'm talking to them."

The girl didn't answer. She had her back to Dawn, her hands shoved into the pockets of her baggy jeans, silently taking in her office.

Dawn suppressed a smile. Not what you expected, huh? Dawn knew that her office didn't have much in common with the neat, clinical offices of some of her colleagues. On her old, marred desk, mountains of paperwork warred for space with toys, chocolates, and photos. Her diplomas hung side by side with children's paintings. "Why don't we sit down?" she suggested again.

Cade Whitfield walked around the yellow bean bags and plopped down in the chair in front of the desk, forcing Dawn to sit in her chair with the desk between them.

So she wants to keep her distance. I guess she doesn't want to get too close to the shrink or anyone else. Dawn took a seat and studied the teenager. She knew most patients expected her to start asking questions right away, and they were eager to fill the awkward silence. She had learned the power of silence a long time ago, so she merely sat and watched the girl.

Dawn took in the long legs lazily sprawled in front of the girl, the stubborn jaw, and the confident, cautious gaze of the brown eyes. My God! she thought with amazement. That's exactly how I imagine Olivia must have looked like at this age!

She stared at the girl for a second longer, then called herself to order. Oh, come on, Kinsley, after six months, you'd think you were over that infatuated stage where everything and everyone reminds you of Liv. Get your mind on the job! She gently cleared her voice. "So why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" she suggested.

Cade Whitfield continued to stare out the window as if she hadn't spoken.

This is why she had so many other therapists before. She simply refused to talk to them. "Okay, I received your message loud and clear," she said bluntly. "You don't want to be here."

"Damn right, Doc!" The teenager's cool façade was destroyed when she glared at Dawn.

Dawn didn't react to the anger in her voice or the abbreviation of her title that was only meant to provoke her. "Here we are anyway," she continued calmly. "Why not cut this childish crap and talk like adults?"

For a second, Dawn could see surprise and something like reluctant respect glimmer in the brown eyes before the mask of anger was back. "Do they allow you to talk to patients like that?" Cade growled at her.

"They?"

"The guys on the ethics committee," the girl answered, her words a silent threat.

How long has she been handed from therapist to therapist to have learned about the ethics committee at the tender age of sixteen? Dawn wondered. "They want me to use the language my patient does, so that he or she will feel more comfortable talking to me about their problems."

"I don't have a problem!" Cade Whitfield exploded. "I'm not crazy; I don't need a shrink!"

"Good thing I'm not a shrink then," Dawn answered softly. "I'm a psychologist. I work with people who are unhappy with some aspect of their lives."

A heavy boot kicked against her desk. "I'm not unhappy!"

"Then why are you yelling?" Dawn kept her voice low and gentle, emphasizing the contrast between their modes of communication. In reality, Dawn didn't care if Cade was yelling or not, as long as she was talking to her at all. Patients had whispered their most painful secrets in this office, and they had yelled at her at the top of their lungs. In Cade's case, it meant she had succeeded to pierce the cool, bored façade and reach the swirling emotions beneath.

"I'm not-" Cade shouted, then stopped and deliberately lowered her voice. "I'm not yellin'. And I don't wanna be here."

Dawn nodded. "I know. But since you're here, let's try to make the best of it, okay?"

Cade rolled her eyes and didn't answer.

"So," Dawn tried again, "whose idea was it to send you here?"

The girl ignored her.

"Your mother's?" Dawn asked.

"She's not my mother!" The long, sprawled out legs suddenly tensed as Cade got ready to jump up.

Bingo. "She's not?" Dawn asked in a neutral tone.

"No!" Cade's hands clenched around the armrests, barely keeping herself in the chair.

Dawn knew that she needed to change the subject for a moment to lessen the emotional intensity or risk having her patient run from the room and never return. "Okay, before we start, I think you should know our sessions will be completely confidential. Unless you're planning to hurt yourself or someone else, I won't discuss anything you tell me with your relatives, your teachers, or anyone else," Dawn told her.

Cade snorted. "Right. Like I believe that even for a second."

"Any particular reason for your distrust?" Dawn asked.

The girl regarded her coolly. "Maybe I just don't like you."

Dawn didn't believe her. The teenager's issues with trust ran much deeper than a simple dislike for her. "Listen, Miss Whitfield…" She stopped herself. Calling the girl by her last name didn't feel right. It was just one more barrier the girl could hide behind, and she wouldn't allow that. "Can I call you Cade?"

The teenager flashed her a wolfish smile, and for a second, Dawn was once again reminded of Olivia. "Only if I can call you…" Cade craned her neck to be able to read the name on the diploma hanging on the wall. "…Dawn." She met Dawn's gaze, clearly expecting her to back down.

Dawn hesitated, then made a decision. Her young patient tended to keep herself apart from the rest of the world, and she needed to employ some unusual methods to establish some kind of connection. "All right. You can." Again, an expression of surprise flashed across Cade Whitfield's face before it was quickly hidden again. "On one condition."

The girl groaned. "I should have known." When Dawn just continued to look at her, she finally relented. "What condition?"

"You use my first name with the same respect that I address you with," Dawn bargained.

Cade stared at her. "You are one weird shrink, Doc."

Doc, Dawn silently repeated. Not Dawn. She doesn't want to be respectful toward me. "About the confidentiality I promised you… I mean it. Unless you put yourself or others in acute danger, I won't repeat anything you tell me to another person."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Cade leaned back, her trademark bored expression on her face as if she was not listening to a word Dawn had said.

"Try me."

Cade looked up. "What?"

"If you don't believe me, try me. Tell me one thing about you. If your…the woman who dropped you off doesn't chew you out about it on the way home, you'll know you can trust me."

Brown eyes narrowed. Dawn was sure she would refuse to answer, but then Cade's lips curled into a grin that reminded her once again of Liv. "You want to know something about me, huh? How about this: I just finished fucking this girl before I came to your office. That personal enough for you?"

Dawn forced herself not to react. Congratulations, Janet, your gaydar is working just fine. "So the woman who is not your mother…she doesn't know about this relationship?" she finally asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.

"Who said it's a relationship?" Cade Whitfield drawled. She looked Dawn right in the eye, a challenging gleam in her eyes.

"It isn't?" It was clear to Dawn the teenager wanted to shock her, but she wasn't sure if she had really slept with a girl or was just bragging.

Cade leaned back. Her leather jacket creaked as she crossed her arms behind her head, looking like a satisfied, lazy cat. "Just a bit of fun. I don't do relationships."

"Why not?"

"Why should I buy a cow if all I want is milk?" Cade answered, a bored expression on her face.

Dawn leaned forward, trying to bridge the distance between them. "Let's try not to hide behind lame statements like that while you're in here, okay?"

Cade scowled and removed her arms from behind her head to cross them in front of her chest again.

"So the woman who dropped you off…if she's not your mother, who is she?" Dawn asked, hoping that Cade would answer that question now that she had started to talk.

Cade made a show of examining her fingernails.

All right. Let's try a little provocation of my own. "She's not that one-night stand you just told me about, is she?"

A strand of mahogany hair fell into Cade's face as her head shot up. "Are you crazy? What would I want with an old pushy broad like that?"

I'll take that as a no. Dawn just looked at her and waited.

Cade tried to stare her down for a long minute, then relented. "She's foster mother number 37."

Dawn was sure Cade was exaggerating, but the meaning was clear nonetheless. She grew up in a number of different foster homes; she has no family and no girlfriend. I bet all that rebellious bravado is just to hide how lonely and rejected she's really feeling. "How long have you lived with her?"

A casual shrug. "A while."

"And what's so horrible about it?" Dawn asked.

Cade looked at her with brooding dark eyes. "I never said it was."

"You called her a pushy old broad and 'foster mother number 37' instead of just using her name," Dawn pointed out. "Sounds like she's not your favorite person." Is there anyone in your life you allow yourself to like? What made you close yourself off from people?

"She just gets on my nerves." Cade's fingers impatiently tugged on a tear in her jeans.

"About what?"

"Everything!" Cade snapped.

This is going to be a long fifty minutes, Dawn thought, suppressing a sigh. You better save some of that cake for me, Janet. "Can you give me an example?"

Cade threw up her hands. "She's constantly naggin' me about school, the way I dress, who I hang around with…"

"Sounds like the same stuff every teenager fights over with their parents," Dawn gently pointed out. Not liking Cade's leather jacket or her friends couldn't be the reason why her foster mother thought she needed therapy.

"They're not my parents; I told you that!" Cade snarled.

Dawn studied her, well aware that her next question would most likely not be answered. It needed to be asked anyway. "Can I ask why you don't live with your biological parents?"

"You can ask," Cade told her in a condescending manner. "Doesn't mean I have to answer."

"I know this might be a difficult topic for you-"

"You don't know anything!" Cade leaped to her feet so fast her chair tumbled to the floor. "You don't know anything about me!" She started to prowl around the office like a caged panther.

Dawn stayed where she was. "You're right. That's exactly why I need to ask you these questions. I have to get to know you before I can help you. Now would you please pick up the chair and sit down again?"

Cade stopped in mid-stride to glare at her.

"Please." Dawn pointed at the chair, her voice soft, but her gaze firm and steady, not giving an inch.

Cade picked up the chair, but didn't sit down. Her hands clenched around the back of the chair. "Why do you think you can help a fucked-up kid like me when all the other shrinks couldn't? You think you're the Mother Teresa of mental health or what?"

Dawn couldn't help smiling. She's more intelligent than she lets on. I bet she could be a straight-A student, but of course that would ruin her tough-girl image. "Because I don't think you're fucked-up or a kid. You're an intelligent young woman, and you want me to help you."

Cade snorted. "And you're delusional, Doc. What makes you think I want your help? The way I treated your office furniture?" She barked out a laugh, a sound devoid of humor.

"No. The fact that you stayed here and talked to me for the last thirty minutes, when you didn't even want to say so much as 'hello'," Dawn answered with a smile. She turned the small clock on top of her desk around so Cade could see the time.

Cade stared at the clock. Her dark eyes held an almost panicked expression when she noticed she had, in fact, been lured into a conversation during the last half hour.

"So now that we've established you're not fucked-up and I'm not the enemy, do you think we can give each other a chance and see if we can work together?" Dawn offered her hand again.

Cade ignored the gesture like she had before, but she settled back down into her chair. "If I stay, it's only because I'm bored. There's nothing on TV, and I ran out of weed yesterday."

Dawn just smiled and made a mental note to ask the girl about her drug habit later. "So tell me a little about foster mom number 37. Does she have a name?"

The flashing lights of two patrol units lit up the night. Ducking her head against the falling rain, Alex strode toward the house.

"Good evening, Miss Cabot." The uniformed officer at the front door handed Alex the entry log and lifted the yellow crime scene tape for her to pass through.

Just two years ago, he would have stopped her and asked for the ID that was now tucked away in her purse. By now most cops knew her and her tendency to show up at crime scenes. It hadn't always been like this, Alex reflected. When she had first started working with Special Victims, she had only ever seen a crime scene when she looked at the photos in the case files.

Visiting crime scenes in person hadn't seemed necessary. It had never been necessary in her former job, prosecuting white collar crimes. Two years ago, the unlucky detective that had dared to interrupt her beauty sleep with a two a.m. phone call had been subject to one of the rare, but famous Cabot temper tantrums. She had told herself that wading through puddles in the middle of a rainy night wasn't her job; it was what her detectives got paid to do.

Now, after hundreds of difficult and sometimes heart-rending cases, it was no longer possible to keep that kind of emotional and physical distance to her work. She no longer saw her detectives as lackeys who worked for her at her discretion. It had taken a while, but now Alex saw them both as parts of the same team, cogs in the machine of justice.

Visiting crime scenes in the middle of rainy nights wasn't beneath Alexandra Cabot any longer. She liked to get involved in the cases she would prosecute as early as possible.

She ducked under the yellow tape and entered the house.

Olivia Benson looked up from the dead body sprawled across the dining room floor. "Hey, Alex."

Alex stared down at the blood stains on the formerly pristine Persian carpet. "So this is why the D.A. found it necessary to interrupt my beauty sleep," she commented. Robert Parker, the man lying dead on his dining room floor, had friends in high places. She looked at the gunshot wound to his head. "Doesn't seem like a sex crime to me, so why did Special Victims catch this case?"

"His wife was raped before they shot her." Olivia pointed at the door that probably led to the bedroom. "And there's another body in the back yard. We got some back-up from homicide to help us work the case."

Alex nodded. "Then I'll go and rub elbows with their A.D.A. I bet she got a wake-up call from her boss, too." Careful not to destroy any evidence, Alex made her way to the back yard.

There was no sign of Serena Southerlyn or any other homicide A.D.A. outside. A tall detective and two crime scene techs crouched over the body, trying to preserve evidence before the rain washed it away. After a few minutes, the detective straightened and turned around.

Alex froze for a second as she recognized the tall woman. Del Vasquez. She hadn't seen the older woman since Valentine's Day. Alex closed her eyes when she thought back to that dreadful day. But if she was honest with herself, that whole embarrassing episode had begun much earlier than that.
"We really have to stop meeting like this." Del Vasquez stepped away from Alex's car, armed with a smile and a bouquet of long-stemmed roses.

Alex's steps faltered. This was almost as scary as having an unknown person lurk in the darkness of the underground garage, lying in wait for her. In or out of the courtroom, Alex Cabot didn't like surprises and situations she couldn't calculate and control. "Lieutenant." She stopped next to her car and nodded a formal greeting at the tall woman.

Del Vasquez took another step closer and extended her armful of flowers. "These are for you."

Alex made no move to take the roses. She stared at the other woman.

"They aren't red," Del pointed out.

"What?" What was this crazy woman talking about?

"The roses-they're not red," Del explained. "You probably can't see it in this poor light, but they're a light pink."

Alex shook her head. The color of the roses was not what was giving her a headache. "Why are you giving me roses, Lieutenant? These are from you, aren't they?"

"Of course. Can you imagine someone else being foolish enough to lurk behind your car twice in a row?" Del asked with a disarming smile.

"No," Alex curtly gave back, "that seems to be your specialty alone. So why the roses?"

"I want to say thank you for winning Dawn's case," Del said, her dark eyes looking directly into Alex's, "therefore the light pink-it conveys gratitude and admiration."

She tried to hand Alex the flowers again, but Alex still refused. "You already said 'thank you' when you bought me a drink at Mulligan's yesterday after the trial. Flowers aren't necessary; I get paid to do my job, you know?"

Del Vasquez gave her a patient smile. "If you won't accept them as a thank you for a job well done, then take them as a sign of my personal admiration." She bowed at the waist, a gesture elegant enough to find favor even in Sophie Cabot's strict eyes.

"Lieutenant…" Alex looked into the dark eyes of the taller woman. They held a gentle strength and a confidence that told her Del Vasquez was not used to having her presents rejected. Normally, she would have no problem with just accepting the flowers, but she had a feeling that Del was offering so much more than just a bouquet. "I think we should clear up a few facts." Alex tried to sound like a confident A.D.A., ignoring the fact that it was her private life they were discussing.

Del inclined her head, willing to listen. "What facts would that be?"

"Well…I don't want you to misinterpret the situation, so I should probably let you know I'm straight," Alex told her. At least if you define "straight" as a woman who's never been to bed with another female, she mentally added, but quickly shoved the unwelcome thought back into the recesses of her mind.

Del just grinned, totally unimpressed. "And straight women don't like flowers?"

For a second, the usually eloquent A.D.A. found herself speechless. "Of course they do," she said when she was sure she could answer without stammering.

"Good." Del pressed the bouquet of roses into her hands.

"Ow!" Alex glanced down at her hand with annoyance. One of the thorns had pierced her thumb, leaving a tiny pin-prick of blood on the tip of her finger.

Del rushed forward, encroaching on Alex's personal space without thought. "Let me see."

Alex hid the injured hand behind her back. She could feel the wiry strength of Del's body so close to hers and her body heat in the cool air of the underground garage. Under the pretense of looking for a tissue in her purse, Alex took a step back. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, it's not a fatal wound. I won't sue you for an assault with a deadly weapon." She sought refuge in the familiarity of legal terms.

Del ran long fingers through her short, midnight black hair. The normally self-assured woman seemed sheepish for the first time, and Alex had to stop herself from finding it endearing-or she at least tried to.

"At our first meeting, I almost scare you to death, and now I attack you with a bunch of flowers…real ice-breakers, huh?" Del smiled up at Alex from under thick, half-lowered lashes.

"Lieutenant…" Alex held out a hand to stop the conversation.

"I hope you know I'm not out to hurt you," Del murmured. The gaze of the dark eyes touched Alex's face almost like a caress, letting her know that Del was talking about so much more than just her pricked finger.

Alex began to search for her car keys in her purse and quickly unlocked her car. "No harm done. Thank you for the flowers," she told her formally.

"So…will you go out to dinner with me sometime?" Del asked before she could jump into the car and close the door between them.

Alex set the flowers down on the passenger seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish here, Lieutenant. I just told you I'm straight."

"You still have to eat," Del pointed out.

"In sporadic intervals, yes," Alex agreed dryly.

Del smiled. "Then why not do it with me…eating dinner, I mean. You don't have to answer right now. I'm a patient woman. Just think about it, okay?"

Alex had nodded warily and shut the driver's door.

That had been the first of many days on which she had received a bouquet of flowers. Sometimes they had been delivered to her office; sometimes they waited for her at home; sometimes they were roses, sometimes carnations, and sometimes lilies. More often than not, there had been a card attached to the flowers. It was always signed "your secret admirer" with no other name on the card.

Alex didn't need a signature. She knew exactly who was sending her all these flowers. Del Vasquez had told her she was a patient woman, but obviously, she was also a very insistent woman.

The lieutenant's determination to court her scared her a little, but if she was honest with herself, it also flattered her. As a Cabot woman, she had been brought up to expect constant admiration and worshipping from the men in her life, but she had always found reality to lag far behind expectations. Romance had never really warmed her heart. Since her half-hearted attempts to date Trevor Langan, she hadn't received flowers, and she had to admit that it was nice to come home after a defeat in the courtroom to find beautiful flowers and sometimes a card waiting on her doorstep.

Then, just when she had gotten used to the daily flower delivery, the cards had become more insistent. Where they had simply wished Alex a good night at the beginning, they now held an invitation to go out to dinner and meet her "secret admirer" face to face.

Alex crumpled up the first few cards suggesting a date and just ignored their message until the next bouquet arrived. The Cabot family had honed ignoring and denying things with which they didn't want to deal to an art form. Del had made it easy to ignore her attempts at courting Alex, because apart from the daily flower delivery, she was not a part of Alex's life. They had seen each other once or twice, but it had always been in a work setting, and Alex had been able to hide behind her job.

But at the same time, Alex had watched the friendship between Olivia and Dawn Kinsley slowly blossom into something so much more. The ever effective courthouse rumor mill had kept her well informed about every romantic dinner they had been spotted on and every time her colleagues had failed to reach Olivia at home when a crime had occurred in the middle of the night.

Seeing Olivia in a relationship with a woman hadn't really come as a surprise to Alex. She had been taught at a very early age to pay attention to how other people were looking at her, so the admiring glances Olivia had thrown at her hadn't escaped her notice. They hadn't bothered her because she had somehow sensed Olivia would never act on that attraction. It was safe to wallow in that kind of admiration.

What had come as a surprise was the woman Olivia was with. Not that Dawn Kinsley wasn't beautiful or intelligent. She was both. Alex liked her, even though she could sense she and Dawn both made each other a little uncomfortable. But Dawn was the kind of woman who wanted happily ever after, not just a one-night stand or a short fling, and Alex knew Olivia's relationships-like her own-had mostly ended before breakfast on the morning after.

After her rape, Dawn Kinsley certainly wasn't up to being just another notch on Olivia's bedpost. She needed love, and tenderness, and trust, something that was hard for Olivia to give. Alex would have bet her entire trust fond that Olivia would shy away from a relationship with her.

Fortunately I didn't. Mother wouldn't have liked all that Cabot money going to a blue-collar cop… Not only had Olivia begun a relationship with the psychologist, she seemed to be thriving in it. She had even spent Christmas with the Kinsleys, and Alex was sure they would do some kind of commitment thing on Valentine's Day.

All while Alex Cabot would sit at home, alone with her case files and law books.

No, she had decided. Not this year. In a rare moment of spontaneity, not allowing herself to think, she had reached for the phone with one hand and for Del Vasquez's business card with the other.

"Vasquez," Del's voice had answered, just when Alex wanted to slam the phone down and berate herself for her silly idea.

"Ah…" Suddenly, Alex didn't know what to say. This was a bad idea. I should have at least written down what I wanted to say, planned it out like an opening statement… But now it was too late for that. "Hello. It's A.D.A. Alex Cabot," she finally said, then mentally berated herself. You sound like you want to arrest her, not take her out to dinner!

"Hey, what a nice surprise! Just wait a second, all right?"

Alex could hear Del order someone out of her office, and then a door closed. Suddenly, she felt trapped. Before she could think of something to get herself out of this mess, Del was back on the phone.

"I'm all yours now. What can I do for you, Counselor?" Del sounded eager and friendly, but more professional than Alex had expected.

She swallowed. "Well…"

"Don't tell me you finally decided to grant me that long-awaited dinner?" Del asked, a smile in her voice.

Alex was silent, wrestling with a lifetime's worth of family expectations and political ambitions. Cabot women just didn't ask other women out to dinner.

Finally, Del took the initiative. "You really have, right? Why today? It's Valentine's Day," she gently pointed out.

Alex stared daggers into the personal planer on her desk. It was indeed a bad choice for a first date, but she knew that if she backed out now, she wouldn't have the courage to ask again. "We still have to eat," she repeated something Del had said when she had first asked her to dinner, pleased with how reasonable it sounded. "It doesn't have to be anything more than that."

"All right," Del readily agreed. "Why don't you come over to my apartment tonight? I could prepare the one meal I can cook for you."

"Your apartment?" Alex repeated. That was definitely more than she had bargained for.

"Yeah. I figured with your family background, I can't impress you with a fancy restaurant," Del explained.

She was right of course. Alex had dined in five star restaurants before she had been able to read the menu on her own. Still, the thought of being completely alone with Del Vasquez on their first… whatever this was going to be made her more than a little nervous.

"You'd be more comfortable in a more…public setting," Del guessed when Alex remained silent.

"A friend of mine owns this really nice restaurant, exquisite French cuisine," Alex said instead of a more direct answer.

"Sounds good. When do you want me to pick you up?" Del asked.

Being picked up reminded her too much that this was a date, so she quickly said, "I'll meet you there at seven."

"You won't let me open the door and pull out your chair for you either, huh?" Del asked, good-natured humor coloring her words.

Alex felt her tense features relax into a smile. "And I won't let you pay for dinner."

"Not that I wanted to," Del said with a laugh. "I know that 'exquisite cuisine' means tiny portions and astronomically high prices."

Alex felt herself laugh freely, a sound that was surprisingly foreign after weeks full of pressure and stress. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Alex told herself. It's just dinner, so what's the worst that could happen?
Alex was late. Not because she hadn't been able to decide what to wear or because she had changed in and out of half her wardrobe in an attempt to find the perfect outfit to wear for her it's-just-dinner date. She had changed into the first ensemble that caught her attention, a simple but elegant blue dress, and hadn't allowed herself to obsess about its appropriateness. Paying too much attention to what she was wearing would mean she was dressing to impress Del, and she wasn't ready to admit that just yet.

Her tardiness was the result of an unfamiliar insecurity. She had hesitated until the very last second to leave her condo, and twice she had almost told the cabbie to turn back around. Now, as she was being led to the table where Del Vasquez was already seated, her stomach was in knots, and she was glad for her cool Cabot façade that she knew was making her appear calm and collected even if she was anything but.

Del stood as Alex approached. She wasn't wearing a dress, Alex noted, nor anything else with a designer label. In simple, but neatly pressed black slacks and an aubergine blouse, she didn't look that much different from the witness Alex had questioned on the stand, the quasi-aunt who had wrapped a crying Dawn into her arms after the trial, or the lieutenant she had seen at the precinct once or twice.

That's what I like about her, Alex realized with a sudden insight, she's not playing roles; she's just herself, no matter what.

Del didn't try to pull out Alex's chair for her, silently accepting the boundaries Alex had playfully erected during their telephone conversation. She waited until Alex was seated, then grinned up at her from under dark bangs. "So you didn't turn back around after all."

Alex's fingers flexed around the wine list. She knew she was usually not that easy to read, and it made her nervous and irritated that Del seemed to know exactly what had made her so late. She looked up sharply, directly into Del's eyes. She had learned a long time ago that attack was often the best form of defense. "I'm here, am I not?"

"Yes, to my surprise, delight, and unspeakable relief-I need someone to explain all these different forks and glasses to me," Del answered with a self-deprecating grin.

Alex stared at her, not sure if she was being made fun of or not. No one in her circles would have ever admitted to not knowing one of the intricate rules of the higher society. Acting superior and not admitting any weaknesses had made Alex a good prosecutor and her mother the envy of her friends, but Alex knew it was also the reason why she had no really close friends.

Alex sat down and studied the menu, even though she had been here often enough to almost know it by heart. At least it gave her something to do other than staring at the woman across from her.

A few minutes later, the waiter came by to take their order. He asked for their wine selection, looking at Del, possibly because she was the older woman at the table.

"Don't look at me," Del told him with a smile. "I appreciate a good glass of wine, but I'm not a connoisseur by any means. Why don't you choose for us, Miss Cabot?"

Alex quickly made her selection, but her thoughts were on Del. The ease with which Del had deferred to her was unexpected. Alex thought back to her last date with Trevor Langan. The defense lawyer had always insisted on choosing the wine they would have, even though Alex was convinced he was barely able to keep white and red wine apart and knew she would have done a much better job.

Del seemed completely at ease with herself and her own shortcomings. She didn't feel the need to prove herself to anyone.

When the waiter had brought over their wine and Alex had nodded her approval, Del lifted her glass and softly touched it to Alex's. "Let's drink to getting to first name basis."

Alex's glass hesitated halfway to her mouth. She wasn't sure she wanted to take away the old, comfortable roles just yet.

"I admire A.D.A. Cabot, but I want to have dinner with Alex," Del explained softly.

The honesty in her eyes took Alex's breath away. Being here with Del Vasquez was so very different from any date she had ever been on, and not just because Del was the first woman she had ever gone out with. She was used to compliments, small talk, and flattery, not to this unveiled openness.

"Or do you prefer Alexandra?" Del asked when Alex remained silent.

Alex blinked. Some of the men she had dated had called her "Alex", some had chosen the more sophisticated sounding "Alexandra", but almost no one had ever asked her what she preferred to be called. "Alex," she answered decisively, finally taking a sip of her wine.

Del nodded. "Alex it is." She clinked her glass to Alex's again. "Why do you prefer Alex to Alexandra? Is there any particular reason?"

Alex pensively stared down into the red depths of her wine, then back up into the attentive dark eyes. "Because it's the name I made for myself, not the name my parents gave me." She had never thought about it before, but she knew it was the truth as soon as she had said it. She had inherited the name "Alexandra" like she had inherited her trust fund. But being called "Alex", being accepted into the circle of prosecutors and cops, was something she had earned on her own. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you prefer Del or Delicia?"

Two black eyebrows rose. "How do you know the D-word?"

"D-word?" Alex had to smile at Del's expression.

"My dreaded first name," Del explained.

Alex leaned back and allowed an enigmatic smile to curl her lips. "I'm an A.D.A.; I have my sources." When Del continued to look at her, she finally relented. "You showed me your I.D. when you ambushed me in the underground garage, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah." Del rubbed her ear.

"So why Del?" Alex gave back the question.

Del extended her arms and nodded down at herself. "Do I look like a Delicia to you?"

For the first time, Alex allowed herself to really look at the other woman. She let her gaze wander over the tall, sturdily built body, the muscular forearms that the rolled up sleeves revealed, and calm dark brown eyes. Del wore no make-up, and with her Latin complexion didn't need it. With her small breasts and narrow hips, Del was not one of the voluptuous Latina women, and her features were a bit too rugged to be considered classically beautiful. "No," Alex admitted, "not really."

Del just grinned, and when the waiter returned, she allowed Alex to order for them both.

"So," Del said when she picked up the fork Alex indicated to eat her entrée, "tell me a little about yourself."

Alex delicately picked at a piece of lamb's lettuce. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Del's voice was quiet and sincere.

"Well, I've been with Special Victim's for a little over two years and before that-"

"I already know the competent counselor, now I want to get to know the woman," Del gently interrupted.

Alex set her fork down and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "My job with the D.A.'s office is a very important part of my life." She had expected them to converse about their jobs, something they had in common and could use to build a connection. It threw her completely off stride that Del refused to talk shop.

"One part, yes, but there has to be so much more to you than just your job," Del said. She looked at Alex, waiting for her to start talking about herself.

"I spend fourteen hours a day with lawyers, detectives, and criminals; what more do you expect there to be?" Alex soberly gave back.

Del shrugged. "Well, you could tell me what you do with the other ten hours, what kind of music you like, if you have any siblings, and what you're looking for in a man…or a woman."

"Sleep and go for a run; Jazz; one older brother; and I'm not looking," Alex answered, ticking off the answers on her fingers.

Del stared at her for a moment, then suddenly began to laugh. The people at the other tables started to look at them, but Del didn't pay them any attention. "You're very efficient, if not detailed, I'll give you that."

Alex smirked and picked up her fork again.

"You're a runner?" Del enquired.

Oh, yeah, running from the things I don't want to face is a specialty of mine, Alex thought wryly. Aloud she said, "Yes. I try to run every morning, no matter what else is going on." She tried to picture Del's long, strong legs that were hidden under the table. "Do you run, too?"

"I'm training to run the NYC marathon with the NYPD team right now, but I have a feeling you'd run circles around me, Counselor," Del teased.

Alex smiled. It was nice to have dinner with someone who thought her capable of things other than looking beautiful. "You never know," she answered with a grin.

"Unless of course I accompany you on one of your morning runs and find out." Del's dark eyes observed her closely, waiting for her answer.

"Smooth, detective, really smooth. Are you already trying to get a second date when we haven't even made it halfway through the first one?" Del's insistence was flattering, even if it scared her a little.

Del circled the rim of her wine glass with a lazy finger. "You said you weren't looking…but if you meet a person who could hold your interest, would you give them a chance?"

Alex sighed. She definitely wasn't used to so much openness. "We could be…friends."

"Friends?" Del repeated the word like she was trying to taste it.

"Yeah." She knew it wasn't what Del wanted to hear, but she just wasn't ready to jump into a relationship with a woman without looking. "For now."

"All right, let's try to be friends for now," Del finally agreed. She extended her hand over the table, attracting the gazes of their fellow restaurant guests again.

Alex was very aware of their attention, while Del didn't even seem to notice. Hesitatingly, she reached across the table and laid her hand into Del's warm, solid grip.

They conversed about a variety of topics during dinner, none of them related to their work. Finally, Alex was ready to ask for the check, but Del shook her head. "What about dessert?"

Alex folded her napkin. "No, thanks, not for me."

"Come on, Alex, you can afford to put a little more meat on these bones. Share a cheesecake with me," Del suggested.

Another first in the history of Alex's dates: no one in her life had ever encouraged her to eat more. Her male dates always seemed to like the elegant, ladylike way she sampled dinner, and her mother had taught her that a woman should never, ever eat more than the man with whom she was dining. You're not dining with a man, she told herself. And your mother isn't here to criticize you-and even if she were, you eating dessert would be the last thing she would comment on if she saw you on a date with a woman. "Does that mean you think I'm too thin?" she asked, adopting her most stern bad-ass A.D.A. glare.

"It means I think you're denying yourself the opportunity to really enjoy life," Del said, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

Alex was speechless again. No one had ever affected her like that before, and she still wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

"And just for the record," Del added, this time with a smile, "I think you're beautiful just the way you are."

Alex was a veteran at handling compliments with grace, but this time, she felt herself blush. "Sharing a piece of cheesecake sounds good," she finally said.

Just a few minutes later, the waiter set down a piece of cheesecake between them.

"Stop nibbling and dig in or you'll have to make do with the crumbs," Del warned her as she picked up her fork. "I have five brothers; ladylike restraint wasn't taught at our dinner table."

Alex smiled, but inwardly shook her head. God, this will never work. We couldn't be more different if we tried! We grew up in completely different worlds. She took a bite of cheesecake and savored it for a long moment.

"So," Del asked around a forkful of cake, "what finally convinced you to go out to dinner with me?"

Alex picked up her napkin to dab at her lips. "I guess your insistence finally paid off," she answered with a shrug. She didn't want to admit that with all the happy couples around her she had felt lonely, like the last remaining spinster on earth.

Del tilted her head and arched one black eyebrow. "Insistence?"

"You wouldn't call ninety-seven bouquets of flowers insistent?" Alex asked with a smile. Even for Cabot standards, that kind of courtship seemed impressive.

"Ninety-seven bouquets of flowers?" Del repeated.

Alex gave a nod. "I kept count."

Del pushed the plate back and leaned forward to study Alex. "I'm really not sure what you're talking about. Someone sent you flowers?"

Alex stared at her. Del had been so open and honest before, why was she denying this now? "Yes, you did."

"Are you talking about the roses?" Del asked.

"The roses, the carnations, the lilies, the gladioli…" Alex stopped herself when she saw Del's blank expression. "You didn't send them?"

Del shook her head. "I wish I had, but no, that must have been another admirer."

"Are you serious?" Alex stared at her in confusion, not sure if Del was telling the truth or denying her role in the flower deliveries for unknown reasons. "I was so sure…the flower deliveries and the cards started the day after you gave me the roses, and I just thought…"

"Alex…" Del gently laid her hand over Alex's. "Having flowers delivered and sending unsigned cards is not my style. I would have personally brought you flowers every day if I had thought it would accomplish anything but chase you away."

Alex still couldn't believe this. "But who else would send me all those flowers?"

Del squeezed her hand. "I'm sure there are a lot of people who would go to great lengths to impress you."

"One bouquet of flowers, sure, but ninety-seven?" Alex shook her head. "That's not something your garden-variety admirer would do. Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?"

"I'm a lieutenant with the NYPD; I don't make that kind of money, believe me," Del said with a rueful shake of her head.

Alex pulled her hand out from under Del's and nervously folded them in her lap. "In one of your cards you said you grew them yourself."

"I didn't write that card or any of the other ninety-six," Del insisted.

Alex took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her mouth. God, this is all so messed up. The thought that anyone else but Del had sent all the flowers was scaring her. Who else would go to all this trouble to get her attention, but then not even tell her his name? In the last six months, no one had given her more than a second glance. No one but Del.

Then another thought hit her. She didn't send the flowers, probably hasn't even thought about me since last November, and I call her to make a date on Valentine's Day! I knew this was a bad idea! Alex didn't think she had ever been this embarrassed.

"Hey, listen…" Del reached across the table to squeeze Alex's hand, but Alex pulled back before their hands could touch. "This is no big deal. I didn't send you the flowers, but that doesn't change anything. I'm still interested in you." She looked at Alex with an open gaze.

Alex didn't want to look into the reassuring dark eyes and was too mortified to listen to the comforting words. She hadn't held up her side of the conversation while she had followed Del out of the restaurant and had given only a noncommittal answer when Del had suggested they go for a run together sometime.

She had avoided Del since that night, telling herself it would have never worked out anyway. It was better not to start something when nothing could have come of it.



Now here she was, trapped in a tiny backyard with Lieutenant Delicia Vasquez, with no way to escape this awkward situation. She squared her shoulders and put on the practiced smile with which she usually dazzled jurors. "Hello, Lieutenant."

Del just stood and looked at her with her intense dark eyes. She took a few moments to take all of Alex in, then finally she smiled. "It's Del, remember?"

"Not when we're at work," Alex protested. And not since you witnessed me making a complete fool of myself.

Del stepped closer, ignoring the still falling rain and Alex's discomfort. "Listen, I know you were embarrassed by your assumption that I was the one who sent you all the flowers and-"

Alex threw a quick glance at the two CSU techs. She was sure they were paying close attention to every word Del said. "Lieutenant…" she warned in a low voice.

"You broke off contact, and I accepted that," Del continued undaunted. "I'm not a stalker."

Alex couldn't stop herself from flinching. Stalker. The word echoed through her mind. Since Del had come into her life, the feeling of being watched, of being followed, had become more and more pronounced. By now she was sure someone was stalking her. She really didn't need rumors about her being gay to add to all the complications in her life. "Is he a family member?" she asked, pointing to the dead body in the middle of the backyard. Focusing on work had always been her method of dealing with the complicated things in her life, and now was not the time to change that.

Del stared at her for a few seconds longer, then she abruptly turned and walked over to the dead man. "We'll need forensic confirmation on that, but my guess is he's one of the men who broke into the house tonight and raped Mrs. Parker."

"And then he committed suicide in their backyard?" Alex arched a skeptical eyebrow.

"He doesn't even have a gun. I think his partner in crime shot him," Del answered. "Maybe he didn't want an accessory, or he didn't want to share the money they found in the house. It's even possible that the rape and murder was not part of their plan, and they fought about it."

Alex nodded slowly. That sounded plausible. Del seemed to be really good at her work. "Anything you need me for?"

"No, not yet," Del answered. "Maybe a little later, when we identify this guy. If he has a record, we might need you to get a search warrant for the apartments of his usual accomplices."

There was no need for her to hang around the crime scene any longer. She could finally leave this more than awkward situation behind. "All right. If you need anything, let my detectives know, and they'll contact me," she told Del.

"Or I could save them the work and contact you myself," Del added, her dark eyes probing into Alex's.

Alex bit her lip. "Or you could do that," she agreed after a moment of silence. She had worked too hard to be accepted in her job not to act like a professional in this situation. After one last nod that included Del and the two crime scene technicians, Alex strode back into the house.



Del stood in the pouring rain, her gaze fixed on the retreating A.D.A. She had just been turned down again, and this time within hearing shot of two CSU techs, which meant her humiliation would be all over the 9th precinct by tomorrow. She knew she should just cut her losses and find herself another, more receptive object of her attentions. Yeah, right, she snorted at herself. Like walking away from Alex Cabot is such an easy thing to do.

For Del, it had proved to be nearly impossible. From the very first moment she had seen her in the courtroom, the cool, calm, and collected A.D.A. had fascinated her, and she wanted to discover the person behind that mask of professionalism.

With every meeting since then, her admiration had only grown, and tonight hadn't been an exception. Alex's dedication to her job impressed her. None of the homicide assistant district attorneys had shown their face at the crime scene yet, but Alex Cabot had waded through the puddles in the backyard at three a.m. And the way her soaked through jeans were clinging to her body was as impressive as her professional dedication, Del admitted to herself.

Tonight she could sense that under the soaked-through, distanced exterior, a lot of confusion, uncertainty, and fear were hiding. The fact that Alex had been mortally embarrassed at their almost-date on Valentine's Day was not helping either. Alex Cabot was a proud woman, and she didn't suffer humiliation easily. Alex had apparently convinced herself that her initial interest in Del had been a mistake and pulled back.

The question is, do I just stand by and let her? Del stared at the house where Alex had vanished. "Secure the crime scene; I'll be back in a minute," she told the crime techs and hurried after Alex.

Alex was nowhere to be seen, but Olivia Benson, Dawn's sweetheart, was riffling through the victim's briefcase.

Great. Del grimaced. She didn't want Olivia of all people to get mixed up in her business with Alex. Her feelings toward the detective were still a little mixed. She didn't dislike her, but she wasn't sure if the dedicated cop was the right partner for Dawn. Come on, give her a chance. It's the grasshopper's choice, not yours.

Dawn wasn't the only issue that existed between them, though. Del hadn't missed the admiring glances Olivia had directed toward the long Cabot legs during the opening statement of Dawn's trial. Alex had repeatedly told her she was straight, but Del thought that, under different circumstances, Alex and Olivia might have ended up together.

"Find any I.D. on him?" Olivia asked, pointing in the direction of the backyard.

"No. We'll probably know more once we run his fingerprints. Is A.D.A. Cabot in the bedroom?" Del asked, trying to sound unsuspicious.

Olivia looked up from the briefcase. The glance she directed at Del was all too knowing for Del's liking. "No, she already left. If you want me to, I could call her for you?" She reached for the cell phone clipped to her belt.

"No, it's all right." Del hesitated for a second, then quickly crossed the room.

Alex stepped around a puddle and tried to make out her car in the darkness. The police cruisers had blocked the Parker's driveway, so she had parked farther down the road. With all the police officers at the crime scene, she could feel safe. Unless of course, it is one of those police officers who's stalking you. She didn't want to think that about Del, but couldn't help wondering.

A cat yowled in an alley somewhere to her right, and Alex could hear quick steps on the wet pavement behind her. She pulled her damp coat tighter around her and quickened her steps.

The footfalls behind her indicated that whoever followed her was falling into a jog.

Alex whirled around. Relief, anger, and fear warred within her when her stalker stepped close enough to identify in the pouring rain. "Jesus Christ! Would you finally stop doing that!" she hissed at Del.

Del lifted both palms. "Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to walk you to your car."

Alex turned back around, away from Del, and ran a hand through damp strands of hair.

"Hey…is everything all right?" Del stepped closer and gently touched Alex's arm, making her turn and face her.

"I'm fine," Alex said distractedly. With Del so close and the worried dark eyes resting on her, it was hard to believe Del meant her any harm.

Del studied her. "You sure? You seem a little…disturbed about something. I hope it's not me?"

"No. I told you I'm fine," Alex answered again. What else was there to say? She was hesitant to confide in Del. Not only because she was still embarrassed and didn't want to ask Del, of all people, for help. She also wasn't completely sure if she could trust Del. Del could very well be her stalker. She didn't want to believe that, but she had learned to rely on the objectivity of evidence, and there were just too many things that made Del look a little suspicious. Her habit of hiding in the darkness of the underground garage instead of visiting her office in bright daylight, for example, and then the concurrence of her appearance and that of the stalker in Alex's life.

"You might be a good liar, but not good enough to fool an old warhorse like me." Del waited for a reaction, but when Alex just looked at her with an inscrutable expression, she sighed. "What happened to 'let's be friends'?"

Alex looked at Del through the raindrops beading on her glasses like tears. "I don't know," she admitted.

"I'm still searching for a training buddy to help motivate me for the marathon. Tomorrow, six a.m.," Del suddenly decided. "Central Park, at the 72nd Street entrance. Be there."

"What makes you think I'd even be up at that hour, much less go running with you?" Alex tried to protest. A part of her longed to go running with Del, and that made the other parts of her even more hesitant.

Del studied her from head to toe. "You're not a late-riser."

She wasn't. Alex sighed. "All right, you win. But make it the day after tomorrow. I may not be a late-riser, but I still need some sleep, and it's already four a.m."

When Alex drove away, Del still stood in the middle of the street, her short hair sticking to her head in the rain. Alex could feel the gaze of the dark eyes rest on her all the way down the street.


Dawn jerked awake with a gasp.

Her gaze flew left and right, trying to pierce through the darkness. Everything was quiet in the apartment. There were no steps coming down the hallway, no rough hands grabbing her, no cold muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple.

Dawn pressed a hand to her heaving chest and tried to calm the frantic hammering of her heart. You're safe, she told herself, over and over again. Her gaze fell on the sleeping woman next to her, and finally the terror retreated. Her heartbeat started to slow down.

She usually slept better with Olivia by her side, but tonight not even her lover's presence had prevented the old nightmare.

Her nightshirt was saturated with cold sweat and stuck to her clammy skin. Dawn turned back the covers and, careful not to wake Olivia, slipped from the bed. She padded to the bathroom without turning the lights on and changed into a dry sleep shirt. She stood on the cold tiles, staring into the mirror. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon and didn't want to wake Olivia by tossing and turning, so she quietly turned back the security lock, pulled up the window, and slipped outside to sit on the fire escape.

She sat there, watching the lights of the city, listening to the cars driving by on the street below. In moments like this, she really wished she had taken up smoking.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the window being opened again. "Hey, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" Olivia climbed out and sat next to her on the top step of the fire escape.

Dawn shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"It's cold out here." Olivia wrapped an arm around Dawn and pulled her against the warmth of her body. "You all right?" she whispered against Dawn's temple.

Dawn cuddled closer and closed her eyes. Nothing could hurt her now. "I had a nightmare," she finally admitted.

"Same one?" Olivia's free arm wrapped around her, too, holding her even closer.

Dawn just nodded. There was no need to discuss the details. Olivia had been the one to take her statement after the rape-she knew exactly what happened in Dawn's nightmares. While her nightmares had become less frequent during the last few months, she still had one from time to time.

Both of them had had to admit that their love, as wonderful as it was, was not the cure-all that would magically undo Dawn's rape or any of their other problems.

"You're barefoot," Dawn noticed. She half-turned in Olivia's embrace and put her socked feet over Liv's bare ones. They were now huddled as close together as they could be without sharing the same skin.

Olivia kissed her forehead and gently stroked one of her arms. "Hey, what's this?" She moved back a bit to look down at the resistance her stroking fingers had encountered in the bend of Dawn's arm.

Both of them looked down at the small band-aid.

"I went by the hospital today," Dawn said, her voice almost a whisper.

"What? Why?" Olivia's strong arms clutched at her. "What's wrong? Did you feel sick?"

Dawn stroked the tense back. "No, no, everything's fine. I went to get retested for STDs and HIV. It's standard procedure after…after a rape, you know that."

Olivia was silent for a long time, processing what this meant for Dawn and for their relationship. "So that's where the nightmare came from," she finally commented.

"Probably." Dawn shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cool air. The antiseptic hospital hallways had reminded her of having to go through the rape kit examination just six months ago. It had brought back a lot of unpleasant memories.

Olivia lowered her head and pressed a gentle kiss to the band-aid, then kissed the soft skin all around it. "Why didn't you say something? I would have gone with you."

A part of her would have loved Liv's company, knowing she always felt safe with her, but she knew this was something she had to do on her own. Olivia was stressed enough at work without her adding to it. "It would have been too difficult for you to get a few hours off for a procedure that was over in under five minutes. You're too busy for that with all your new cases," she pointed out.

Olivia let go of Dawn's forearm with one last kiss. "I'm never too busy for you. What happened to sharing our problems and fears? Isn't that what you're so patiently trying to teach me?" She smiled, but her brown eyes were serious.

"Looks like I taught you a little too well, huh?" Dawn rubbed her nose against the underside of Olivia's chin and deeply breathed in her comforting scent. "I think I just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. I didn't want it to interrupt our lives."

Olivia nodded in understanding. "When will you get the results?"

"A few days," Dawn said.

Olivia tightened her embrace for a few seconds. "It'll be fine."

Dawn exhaled. "Yeah."

"Come on, let's go back to bed." Olivia pulled her up and helped her climb back inside. She pulled back the covers and waited until Dawn had settled down before she slipped into bed.

The sheets on Dawn's side of the bed were still a little damp from her sweating through the nightmare, and she squirmed closer to Olivia's side.

Olivia helped her adjust the covers, and then carefully wrapped her arms around her. "Is this okay?" she asked, indicating the loose embrace.

Dawn loved her for her constant understanding. Olivia never assumed it was okay to touch her in any way she wanted, just because it had been six months since her rape. She understood that it wasn't always possible for Dawn to be physically close after having one of the nightmares. "It's wonderful," she answered, wrapping an arm around Olivia's waist. "You're wonderful."

"Go back to sleep, flatterer," Olivia said with a chuckle.

Dawn smiled and closed her eyes, knowing that Olivia might not always be able to keep her nightmares at bay, but at least she would be there for her if she woke up in fear again.
"Your three o'clock is here, Doctor Kinsley," Mrs. Phillips, her office manager, announced. "Jamie Dean again."

Dawn furrowed her brow. As far as she knew, she had no patient with that name. "Jamie Dean?" she repeated into the receiver.

Mrs. Phillips chuckled. "The rebellious teen. Her mother is here, too, and she wants to talk to you, if you have a minute."

Dawn glanced at her watch. Cade Whitfield and her foster mother were early again. "Tell her to come in, please."

Not a minute later, the door to her office opened and a small woman in her early forties entered. "Jill LeCroix," she said, offering her hand. "Thank you for taking the time to see me."

Dawn gave her a polite nod. "No problem. Now, what can I do for you?" She knew exactly what Mrs. LeCroix wanted her to do for her. She had this kind of conversation almost every week, and it wasn't getting more pleasant.

"I just wanted to make sure Cade has been talking to you. She wasn't exactly cooperative with the other therapists who tried to work with her," Jill LeCroix explained. "She doesn't tell me much, so…you agreed to see her, right?"

Dawn nodded. "I'd like to see her twice a week." That was as much information about Cade's therapy as she wanted to share with her foster mother.

Relief washed over Jill LeCroix's face before her features settled back into the expression of worry. "And did she-"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. LeCroix, but I can't talk to you about this," Dawn said politely, but firmly.

Jill LeCroix blinked in confusion. "But…but you just agreed to help me!"

Dawn stood from her place behind her desk, indicating that this conversation was coming to an end. "I agreed to help Cade," she emphasized. She waited a moment to let the difference sink in. "We can't expect Cade to open up to me, if she thinks I'm reporting everything she says back to you. I have to earn her trust, so please don't expect regular progress reports from me."

Mrs. LeCroix stared at her with wide gray eyes. After a few moments, she nodded. "I understand. What you say makes sense. It's just that I…I'm really worried about Cade, you know? She's completely out of control, and I'm at my wit's end with her!" She shook her head in desperation. "She's neglecting school; she hangs around with some pretty tough looking guys, only coming home to sleep. I think she's doing drugs, and I'm worried that she's having unprotected sex. What if she gets pregnant? She's only sixteen, Doctor Kinsley!"

Dawn worked hard to keep her expression neutral. That's one thing you don't have to worry about, she thought, but of course she didn't say it aloud. "I'd tell you if she planned something that put her in immediate danger, but with everything else, you'll just have to trust me-and Cade. Don't make her feel like you're only expecting bad things from her. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll try." A subdued Mrs. LeCroix finally left Dawn's office.

Dawn took one last sip of her now cold tea and went to fetch her young patient from the waiting room. As she crossed the reception area, she caught a glimpse of Cade Whitfield talking to someone in the waiting room and stopped for a moment to watch.

A slender blond girl of about Cade's age sat in the chair next to Cade, talking animatedly. Dawn wasn't sure, but she thought she had seen the girl sitting in the waiting room before. She guessed her to be one of Janet's patients.

Dawn watched as the blond girl gestured while she talked. Cade just sat and listened with her trademark stoic expression. The girl didn't let that bother her. She touched Cade's arm, obviously asking some question about her tattoo.

Dawn half-expected Cade to scowl and move away from the uninvited touch, but the teenager just looked down at the smaller girl with a confident half-smile that once again reminded Dawn of Olivia. Where's that "touch-me-and-I'll-bite-off-your-arm" attitude gone? She clearly remembered how Cade had refused to even shake her hand. Guess you just have to be young, blond, and attractive… Wait, I am young, blond, and attractive. She watched the teenagers with a smile. Face it, Kinsley, you're getting old.

She stepped into the waiting room.

The blond girl greeted her with a friendly smile, while Cade clearly wasn't very happy to see her.

"Hello, Cade," Dawn greeted her. "I'm sorry to interrupt you and your friend-"

"She's not my friend!" Cade growled, ignoring the girl sitting beside her and the hurt expression on her face. "Just a fellow sufferer whose parents think therapy is fashionable." She stood without giving the blond girl another glance and strode toward Dawn's office. "You coming, Doc?" she said over her shoulder. "You're wasting my time and money. I'm your paying customer after all, and she isn't."

She's embarrassed that I saw her being nice to someone, Dawn realized, and now she has to re-establish her bad girl persona. It wouldn't do to have me think she was soft-hearted, after all. She gave the blond girl an apologetic smile and followed Cade into her office. Cade had chosen her usual chair, so Dawn moved around her desk and sat down behind it. "Why did you hurt her?" Dawn asked, pointing to the now closed door and the waiting area beyond.

"Did I?" Cade shrugged, pretending not to care at all.

Dawn fixed her with a stern gaze. "Do you know her?"

"Not in the biblical sense," Cade answered easily, "at least not yet." She flashed a confident grin.

Dawn very nearly rolled her eyes. "Do you know her name?" she asked more precisely.

"Lori or Lauren or something." Cade shrugged. "I usually don't ask girls their names. Too much trouble to keep them all straight. No pun intended, of course." She winked at Dawn.

Dear God! If this is what raising a child that's even a bit like Olivia is like, I should probably reconsider my plans for motherhood! Dawn thought with a mental shake of her head. "Who's wasting time and money now?" she asked, looking Cade right in the eyes. "Why did you hurt her? And try to give an honest answer this time. You don't need to impress me with cool repartees."

Cade looked down, studying the knickknacks on Dawn's desk. "It wasn't that bad," she mumbled. "It was supposed to be funny, and if she had any sense of humor-"

"Do you find it funny when people tell you straight out you're not their friend and imply it's a waste of time to talk to you?" Dawn interrupted another lame excuse.

"Hey, you just implied that about me, Doc," Cade pointed out with a grin.

Dawn didn't acknowledge that with an answer. She just looked at Cade.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't all that funny," Cade finally conceded.

"Why say it then?" Dawn dug deeper. "Why did you go out of your way to be rude to her? She seemed really nice, and I don't think she did anything to deserve that kind of treatment, did she?" She managed to make it sound like a neutral question, not like she was telling Cade off.

Cade shrugged, still not looking at Dawn. "People don't always get what they deserve. Who said life was fair, Doc?"

"Your life or life in general?" Dawn asked. They were getting closer to the issue now. Cade hated her life, maybe even hated herself, and she tended to take it out on others.

"Both, I guess," Cade answered with another bored shrug.

Dawn nodded thoughtfully. "So what's so unfair about your life?"

"Oh, is this the part where you want me to spill my guts about my unhappy childhood, Doc?" Cade gave her an arrogant smirk, but one of her knees began to bounce up and down, betraying her nervousness.

"Tell me about it," Dawn encouraged without bothering to correct Cade's choice of words. She knew Cade was trying to get her to start a discussion about her provocations, just so she wouldn't have to talk about herself and her feelings. "What were you like as a child?"

Cade threw her head back in an exaggerated laugh. "Oh, I was a sweet little angel, why else would no one want to adopt me!"

She blames herself, thinks there's something wrong with her. "How old were you when they put you in the foster system?"

Cade glared at her, but answered, "Six."

"And before that? Did you live with your mother?" Dawn asked.

Cade roughly shook her head.

"Why not?" Dawn knew she was prying, but she needed to know more about Cade's family history if she wanted to understand her. "Did she…die?"

"I wish." Cade snorted. "Nope. Last I heard, she was still alive and kickin'."

So she's not dead; she somehow chose to give up her daughter. That's where all this anger and secret self-doubts are coming from. "Why couldn't she keep you then? Did she think she was too young or too poor to be a good mother?" Dawn asked softly.

"She didn't want to be a mother!" Cade was almost screaming at her.

Dawn didn't believe it was that simple. "But she chose to have you anyway. She gave birth to you."

"That wasn't her idea. She would have killed me without a second thought, but my grandmother talked her out of it." Cade's voice was low and empty now, all her anger gone. For the first time, something like respect, if not affection, flickered across her face.

"So you lived with your mother and grandmother until you were six?" Dawn asked, trying to put the puzzle together.

"You think good old mom stuck around long enough to meet me, huh?" Now the sarcasm was back full force. "Dream on, Doc; she didn't."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dawn said sincerely. She knew Cade didn't want to hear it, but she needed to say it anyway. She wanted to show Cade that she was allowed to show feelings other than anger about her mother's abandonment of her.

Cade roughly snatched a stress ball from Dawn's desk. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to throw it at Dawn. "I don't need your sympathy!"

"I'm not only sorry for you; I'm sorry for your mother, too," Dawn explained. It was a calculated answer, and it provoked the explosion she had expected.

"What?! Why would you feel sorry for her?" Cade clenched long fingers around the stress ball. "She got what she wanted!"

Dawn shifted onto the edge of her chair, leaning closer. "I'm sorry for her, because she missed out on a lot of things."

"Like what? Paying for the therapy bills of her messed up daughter?" Cade snapped. "Visiting me in juvie? Having to reheat dinner because I'm stuck in detention again?"

Dawn waited a second until Cade had calmed down enough to hear her answer. "The way you just said that…you didn't make it sound like accomplishments. You're not as proud of being a bad-ass as you want everybody to believe."

"Hey, it's what I'm good at," Cade tossed back with a grin that didn't quite reach her usual level of confidence.

"I'm sure there are other things you're good at besides breaking the rules," Dawn said. I'd bet she's a little like Olivia not only in the looks department. She's probably good at every sport she tries. She's physically fit, and charming if she wants to be, and intelligent. Now I only have to get her to see herself in that light.

Cade smirked and opened her mouth for an answer.

"I don't want the smart-ass version," Dawn interrupted before she could say anything. "I want you to really think about it and answer honestly." She had a feeling Cade had been about to give her a list of sexual activities or something like that.

"Well, if you put it like that…I guess I'm not good at anything." Cade leaned back, folding her arms across her chest like she had at the very beginning of their first session.

"Then that's your homework," Dawn decided. "Until your next session on Monday, I want you to find something you're good at. Write about it; describe it to me." She handed Cade a notepad.

Cade negligently threw the notepad down at the floor next to her chair. "I'm good at forgetting to do my homework."

"Something positive," Dawn said, slowly pronouncing every syllable. "I want you to find something positive you're good at. And I mean my definition of positive, not yours." She smiled at Cade, but kept her gaze firm.

"All right, I'll try," Cade promised vaguely, but didn't pick up the notepad.

"So, let's talk about your grandmother," Dawn suggested.

Cade slid down in her chair and sprawled her legs out, until she was almost lying in her chair. "Nothing to talk about. She's dead."

She died when Cade was six, that's why they put her into foster care, Dawn concluded. Talking to Cade was like pulling teeth, and she had to put the pieces of information together on her own. "Was she a good substitute parent?" she asked Cade.

Cade's leather jacket creaked as she shrugged.

Dawn really noticed for the first time that Cade had yet to take that article of clothing off. Layers of protection. "Can you give a more detailed answer?"

"I guess," Cade mumbled. "She didn't beat me or anything."

"But that's not enough to make a good parent, is it? Otherwise, you'd be a lot happier to stay with your foster parents," Dawn said gently.

Cade looked up, surprise clearly written all over her face for the second it took her to put on her mask of bored stoicism again.

She didn't expect me to question the LeCroix's qualities as parents, when everyone else thinks she's the only one to blame for things not going well. "Why don't you tell me a little about her," she suggested, leaning back in her chair again.

"About Jill or my grandmother?" Cade asked, still looking a little unsettled.

This time, it was Dawn's turn to shrug. "Whoever you want to start with."

Cade eyed her for a few seconds. "You already had a little chat with Jill, so you probably already know everything of interest about her." There was a silent accusation in her voice.

Shit. I should have addressed that sooner. Dawn stood and circled the desk, perching on the edge of it right next to Cade's chair. "Yes, she was here in my office earlier. I'm sorry I haven't told you."

"You're not even denying it?" Cade asked in disbelief.

"Why should I?" Dawn answered as calmly as possible. "I have nothing to hide from you."

"Whooo-hoooo!" Cade whistled lewdly and wiggled her eyebrows.

Dawn knew that only served to hide how hurt she was. "Cade," she said and waited until the teenager looked up. "I made it very clear to your foster mother that I'm your therapist, not hers. Our sessions are strictly confidential. I don't report to her."

Cade snorted. "She's the one who pays your bills," she pointed out.

"I don't care about the bills; I care about you." Dawn cursed herself as soon as she had said it. "I care about helping you," she quickly amended, not wanting to give Cade room for any misinterpretations.

Cade was silent for a long time. When she looked up, the anger and hurt were gone from her face. "Jill hasn't thumped me over the head with her Bible or thrown me out of the house for sleeping with a girl, so you probably haven't told her yet."

"I didn't," Dawn said, keeping eye contact to show Cade that she wasn't hiding anything. "And I won't."

"We'll see," Cade answered noncommittally.

Dawn just nodded. She knew it would take time to earn Cade's trust. "Is there a reason why you haven't told your foster mother that you like girls? You weren't exactly shy about it with me, so why hide it from her?"

"I'm not hiding it," Cade protested. "It just hasn't come up. We don't talk a lot."

Dawn could easily believe that. Cade wasn't willing to talk, and Mrs. LeCroix wasn't really willing to listen. She wasn't listening to what Cade's rebellious behavior was saying either. Still, Dawn was convinced there was another reason why Cade hadn't thrown her sexual orientation in Jill LeCroix's face. "Are you afraid to tell her?"

"Afraid? Ha!" Cade slapped her jean-clad thighs.

Dawn shook her head. "Don't laugh it off so easily. Coming out to people you depend on can be a scary thing, because you don't know how they'll react."

"I don't care about her reaction or what she thinks about me!" Cade protested. "And I certainly don't depend on her! If she doesn't want to live under the same roof with a queer, I'll just be shuffled off to yet another foster home. Who cares?"

"Do you know why Jill wanted to talk to me?" Dawn asked, seemingly changing the topic.

"She's a nosy bitch, that's why!" Cade grumbled.

Dawn ignored the comment. "She's worried about you." She talked right over Cade's sarcastic snort. "She's afraid you're gonna hurt yourself with drugs or partying…and that you might get pregnant."

Cade didn't seem surprised to hear that. "No chance of that," she said, amusement coloring her voice. "My bed partners lack the kind of equipment you'd need for that."

"Yes, but Jill doesn't know that." Dawn abstained from telling Cade that even if she couldn't get pregnant, STDs were still a concern. That would be the topic for another session. "You purposely let her believe you're sleeping with the boys you hang around with."

"I'm not responsible for the rash assumptions she makes," Cade said, but she gleam in her brown eyes told Dawn she had enjoyed letting her foster mother believe it.

Dawn threw a quick glance at the small clock on her desk. "Our time's up for today."

"Oh how time flies when you're having fun," Cade commented, the sarcasm very evident in her voice.

Dawn bit back a witty answer and ignored the comment. "Until our next session on Monday, I want you to think about why you enjoy letting Jill worry about you."

"Another homework?" Cade groaned.

"Well," Dawn said with her sweetest smile, "you did say you were bored, didn't you?"

Cade's expression didn't change, but Dawn, who had studied her facial expressions and body language for two hours now, had the impression that she barely managed to hold back an answering smile. "I have to watch what I say around you in the future, Doc," Cade said after a moment of silence.

"No, you don't," Dawn said very seriously. "That's what therapy is all about. You can say whatever you want, as long as you try to be honest with yourself."

Cade stood and strode toward the door without answering.

Dawn didn't even need to look to know that the notepad with her homework instruction was still lying next to her chair. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"You want me to kiss you good-bye?" Cade flashed a grin over her shoulder.

God, I hope there's a special place in therapist's heaven reserved for me for agreeing to take her on! "No, thanks," she answered without batting an eye. She threw Cade the notepad. "See you Monday."



Del slipped into the courtroom just as Judge Lena Petrovsky banged her gavel, ending the trial for the day.

The observers stood from their benches in the gallery and filed out of the courtroom. Some of them threw Del annoyed glances as they had to move around her, but she stood her ground and just flipped back her jacket, revealing the gold shield clipped to her belt. She looked right past them; her gaze immediately zeroing in on the blond woman behind the prosecution's table.

The D.A.'s office employed a lot of young, attractive A.D.A.s, but even without her turning around, Del knew she had found Alex Cabot. After trying to keep up with those long Cabot legs for an hour just yesterday morning, she would know them anywhere, even from behind.

She let her gaze wander over the well-formed calves and up the rest of Alexandra Cabot, taking in the custom-tailored skirt, the expensive blazer, and the perfectly styled hair. Hmm, I just love a good looking woman in a power suit! Alex embodied elegance, style, and confidence. Del watched the slender hands sort files and legal pads neatly back into a leather briefcase.

What is this? Are you suddenly developing a lawyer fetish? Del asked herself, then shook her head. She knew it wasn't like that. In all her years in law enforcement, no A.D.A., and certainly no defense lawyer, had ever impressed her like that. She did like Serena Southerlyn, the blond homicide A.D.A., but she had never gone out of her way to catch a glimpse of her in court.

You could have had it so much easier if you had been interested in Southerlyn, Del pointed out to herself. She's a lesbian, even if she doesn't advertise it. But no, you just had to be interested in this straight, blue-blooded prosecutor!

Alex slung her briefcase over her shoulder and turned around.

By now, Del was the only person left in the gallery, so the blue eyes met hers immediately. With an inviting smile, Del held open the gate that separated the front of the courtroom from the gallery.

Alex strode up to her on three-inch heels, passing through the gate with a casualness that told Del she was very used to having doors held open for her. "Don't they keep you busy enough at the 9th precinct, Lieutenant?" Alex asked by way of greeting. There was no smile and no warmth in her voice. The A.D.A. was all business, but Del thought she could detect a welcoming light shining in the blue eyes.

"Oh, yes, they do. I'm actually here for professional reasons," Del told her with a smile. "I'm searching for an A.D.A."

Alex looked at her with curiosity. "And now that you've found one, what are you intending to do with her?"

Del stared at her with narrowed eyes. Is it wishful thinking, or is she flirting with me? "Hmm, maybe I'm gonna drag her off and make her comply with my every wish?" she suggested with a playful wink.

Elegant hands tightened around the strap of the briefcase, and the kingfisher-blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Relax." Del laughed. "There's only one thing I want from you right now."

"And that is?" Alex asked a little warily.

"I need an A.D.A. to get a judge to sign my search warrant," Del explained.

Alex still looked skeptical. "I'm not a homicide A.D.A."

Sad, but true. Getting to see her at work is not one of my job benefits. "I know, but I couldn't find Southerlyn anywhere, and I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I would say hello and ask for a little interdepartmental help," Del answered as smoothly as possible.

A perfect blond eyebrow arched up. "Mixing business and pleasure, Lieutenant?"

Del just shrugged and smiled. "Multi-tasking can be a good thing."

"Not in my job," Alex told her seriously. "A good prosecutor has to concentrate on the case and on nothing else."

"While she's on the job, yes. But you're not trying a case right now, are you?" Del suggested gently, gracing Alex with her most patient smile. She could sense that she had to be gentle, but persuasive, if she ever wanted to have a more than professional relationship with the workaholic A.D.A.

"No," Alex answered. "But you are. What is so urgent about this search warrant that you have to hunt down an SVU A.D.A.?"

With a self-mocking smile, Del gave up on her attempts to get Alex to talk to her on a more personal basis. Within these sacred halls, Alex Cabot was all business. "We just found our main suspect's fingerprints at the crime scene, and I want my detectives to search his apartment for the murder weapon before he decides to take a vacation abroad," she told Alex.

"You have fingerprint evidence, and yet you're not going for an arrest warrant? What aren't you telling me?" Alex wanted to know.

This is one brilliant lawyer. She's not just a pretty face and a hot body. Not that Del had ever assumed otherwise. So this is where I have to make a decision-tell her the truth and risk losing my chance at a search warrant, or lie and get one? Looking into Alex's blue eyes, the decision was an easy one. "Our suspect claims to have an alibi-he was out on a date with the police commissioner's niece."

"So that's why they sent a lieutenant to obtain a simple search warrant," Alex said without even batting an eye.

That and my eagerness to see you again, Del thought, but refrained from saying it. She knew Alex was already aware of her feelings. Anything more would just chase her away. "It's a delicate situation," she answered, using her captain's words.

Alex's gaze was stern, totally unimpressed. "Nobody is above the law, not even the police commissioner's niece. Have your detectives questioned her?"

Del nodded. "We can't prove it, but we think she's covering for him. None of her neighbors saw him entering or leaving her apartment."

"Then let's try and get you that search warrant." Alex strode out into the hallway.

Del hastily caught up with her. "Where are you going? There's a judge with two able hands right next door," she said, pointing to the chambers adjourning the courtroom.

"No." Alex resolutely shook her head. "Asking Judge Petrovsky for a favor with me in tow is not a bright idea."

Del laughed. "What did you do?"

"Do?" The inscrutable lawyer poker face was firmly in place. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Because that's the same expression you had yesterday morning when you used that little trick to get a head start in our race," Del pointed out with a smile. She actually hadn't minded coming in second, becau