Title/Author: "Between the Bars: Logan" by n.s.

Rating: T (minor language, some suggestive scenes)

Summary: A not-canon-but-not-not-canon take on Mike Logan and Claire Kincaid's relationship through seasons 4-6; acknowledgement of Jack McCoy/Claire, also

Disclaimer:I don't own any of these characters. This story is brought to you by 20-year-old repeats of Law & Order that happen to coincide with my daughter's nap time.

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It was June. He had to testify in Manhattan that morning, and he had just known, from the moment he got up, that he would see her.

"Long time, counselor," he said to the back of her head, waiting for the elevator, less than 10 minutes after he arrived.

She turned around, and her mouth formed a surprised O as he gently squeezed her elbow in a half-hug.

"Mike!" she gasped a moment later, and completed the hug, wrapping her arms quickly but tightly around him. "Too long," she whispered before breaking the contact.

"I like the longer hair," he told her when she stepped back from him, and tried to decipher if her smile was sad because of him or something else. "Are you in court? Or do you have time for a coffee"

"Always."

It was the perfect summer afternoon in Manhattan, and she took off her blazer as they walked to the cafe, showing her arms that had thinned out just enough for him to notice. She smiled, laughed at his jokes, and casually bumped his arms as they walked, but her head was bowed and her eyes didn't quite smile with her mouth.

"Talked to Lennie," he said after they sat down at the cafe, watching as she stirred her coffee intently. "Said that Scott S.O.B. whose lights they're putting out next week was yours."

She didn't look up, just scoffed. "Me and everyone else on the case."

"Yeah, but he said you and McCoy really lowered the boom," he set his coffee down, watching her seem to sink lower into her chair. "You all right, Claire?"

She finally looked up, her eyes glassy.

"Honestly, Mike, I'm not sure," her voice cracked, he thought, but it was hard to hear over the din of the other customers. She looked down again, swallowed, and then looked up with steely eyes. "I'm thinking of quitting."

He held her gaze for a brief moment before he said, very matter-of-factly without any surprise, "You won't."

She let out a humorless laugh, and shook her head.

"I don't know how much more I can take."

She was trembling when she brought the cup of coffee to her lips. He felt that same sinking feeling he always did at moments when he wished he was wrong but he knew he wasn't.

"You're one of the good guys," he said finally, now looking down into his own coffee.

"You always put me on a pedestal," she remarked, tears gone from her voice.

He shook his head.

"You won't quit. It'll kill you first."