A/N: Just a little something for "Poor Mike Cutter". I was home sick a few weeks ago and couldn't do anything but watch videos-after three straight seasons of L&O, Mike took up residence in my head.
Set in Cutter's office at the end of 20.9 "For the Defense", but hopefully not a copy of the multitude of other fics from that episode. Lyrics in italics are from Rescue Me by Fontella Bass. And now, of course, every time I hear it I think of Linus Roache with his sleeves rolled up and his tie off, singing the song in his head :-)
Rescue me
Take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charm
'Cause I'm lonely
And I'm blue
I need you
And your love too
Come on and rescue me
'
Mike Cutter never thought of himself as a man that needed to be rescued. He was, both personally and professionally, a go-getter, a real take-charge kind of guy.
Meeting Connie hadn't changed anything. Sure he was attracted to her, right from the very first. She was beautiful and intelligent, kind, moral, a hell of a lawyer, and a good check on him when he got carried away with a case. But he had a hard and fast rule against mixing business with pleasure, and in all his years as an attorney he'd never deviated from it.
Of course, he'd never wanted to this badly before.
Somewhere along the way his affection for Connie grew well beyond that of colleague and friend, but he never acted on it, never let on to anyone that anything was different. He hadn't really even admitted to himself that he had romantic feelings for her until he tried to deny it to Jack. "We're not lovers," Mike had said uncertainly, and heard the truth in his own voice. He'd had to force himself to look at his boss, to remain calm and meet the pair of dark eyes that twinkled back at him in perceptive amusement. Only then did it dawn on him that he had been deluding himself all along.
But apparently he hadn't been hiding it from anybody else.
If Jack knew, then Connie couldn't have been long in figuring it out, and that is where Mike's real dilemma began. His rule about personal relationships at work was in place for a good reason: he never wanted to be responsible for putting a colleague in a compromising position. Ever. He didn't want to be Marcus Woll. But he missed Connie when she wasn't around, ached to hear her voice, see her bright smile. He longed to touch her, to hold her, to feel the warmth of her body against his.
So he was left with only one option. He needed her to free him from his loneliness, from his self-torment, from his own damn stubbornness. Even if she didn't return his adoration, if she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the job, he still needed to know. Rejection would at least allow him to grieve and move on.
Standing an arm's length from her in his own office, he mutely pleaded with her to help him, his wretchedness splashed clearly across his face. If she would just give him a sign—any sign—they could move forward: a look, a breath, a wink, a nod…anything that indicated how she felt about him, how she felt about how he felt.
A scowl, a gesture, a word.
A touch.
A kiss.
His breath caught in his throat at the thought, but it did nothing to break the tension between them, didn't trick them out of their individual musings. A fleeting look at her caused his heart pound—she was looking back at him with an expression he couldn't decipher, one that could have been anything from mutual discomfort to bewilderment to pity. Turning toward her to get a better read, he begged her silently to put him out of his misery, to do something—anything—that would give him a hint about how to proceed. If she would just laugh, or cry, or rage, or try vainly to pretend nothing at all was different, he could follow her lead and they could settle things. He wanted her to reach for him, to brush her hand over his arm, a finger across his cheek, wanted her to make some crack about becoming sick of each other handling all those appeals together. He opened his mouth to speak, raised an upturned palm in supplication and tried to take control of the situation.
But nothing came out.
He balled up his fist and stuffed it in his pocket, dropping his chin in quiet defeat, shaking loose a lock of hair that drifted down his forehead. With a heavy sigh he mentally cursed his weakness, his lack of action, wondering how he was going to go on working in limbo beside this woman he loved.
Then Connie smiled softly. "Mike…"
'
Come on, baby, and rescue me
'Cause I need you by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely?