The standard disclaimer applies: All characters are property of Dick Wolf and NBC Universal. Not mine, not making money.
Connie knows that she can do better.
Waiting for him to arrive, she blows the steam from her cup of coffee and thinks back to when they first met. Jack had just been promoted, and his first order of business as District Attorney was to reassign her. She'd had a few suggestions for him – colleagues she'd worked with in the past and had liked – but ultimately Jack made the decision.
"You'll be working with Mike Cutter," he said. "He's been in the office fifteen years, and apparently was one of Arthur's favorites."
She sensed hesitation in his voice – like he was unsure. She asked if there was anything that he wasn't telling her. It turned out that he didn't know much about this Mike Cutter other than what he'd just told her. Which wasn't very reassuring.
When she went to Mike's office to introduce herself, she was surprised at what she found. She expected him to be in the place where she had seen Jack so many times – at his desk, hard at work. Instead, he was pacing restlessly, fiercely swinging a baseball bat.
She knocked to get his attention. He turned, pointing the business end of the bat towards the floor. Pausing for a moment, he smiled slyly.
"I assume that you're Connie Rubirosa," he said.
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She looks out the window of the diner, at the people struggling to stay upright in the snow. No sign of him yet, but that's not unusual, because he's chronically late. It occurs to her that she now spends half her life waiting for him.
She thinks back to when she found out that he had a crush on her. It was in court, of all places, during the Brody trial. She'd offered up that old picture of herself as proof that people can and do change in appearance.
Mike looked at the picture. "I might have had a chance with you back then," he said.
It struck her off guard. Maybe he felt comfortable saying it because she'd been Jack's assistant; everyone knew about his indiscretions. But Jack had always behaved like an absolute professional towards her. She should have been indignant at Mike's comment, but she wasn't. Instead, she found herself smiling awkwardly.
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She refuses the waitress's second offer of a menu, repeating that she's waiting for someone. Maybe he's stuck in traffic. Maybe he's still at the office, arguing with Jack about some Godforsaken thing. Maybe he's forgotten that they were supposed to meet. In any case, it wouldn't be the first time that he's disappointed her.
She thinks back to when it happened. They were working late, discussing some aspect of a case; she can't remember exactly what now. He made a joke in that offhand way of his, and they both laughed. Perhaps it was because they were both so tired of going over the same information, but the conversation shifted to their lives outside the office.
"This job is important to me," she said. "My social life is limited."
"I wouldn't mind being a part of it," was his answer.
She stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights; she couldn't believe his nerve. But if it were even possible to have any doubt about his intentions, his eyes said everything.
Come on, Connie. Give me a chance. You won't regret it, I promise.
She still doesn't know how that kiss happened; one moment, they were sharing an awkward silence, and the next, she was in his arms. Nor does she know how they ended up in his apartment, making love for what seemed like hours. Maybe she was attracted to him all along. Or maybe she just needed contact with another human being.
In any case, in the morning she did regret it. She'd tried to make a hasty exit that night, but he convinced her to stay. He cooked her breakfast, smiling like he'd just won the lottery. She mentally composed her speech about why this could never happen again.
But every time she began to deliver that speech, he'd change the subject. It was like he knew what was coming. Finally, after many false starts, she simply gave up. It seemed easier to just let the man have his happiness.
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Connie's hunger finally wins out, and she orders toast. Mike is now forty-five minutes late, and she begins to seethe. If he's so devoted to that damned PDA device, he could at least call to let her know where he was.
She thinks back to when he really pissed her off. It was not so long ago, when they were trying Melinda Whitman. He'd asked her to cross-examine a witness. At first, she was happy about that – he was still her boss, and she still wanted to please him.
Until she found out that he was just trying to win points with the jury – one member in particular, who visibly admired her. That was bad in itself, but then Campbell approached her on the street. Luckily for Connie, he backed off quickly.
She refused to speak to Mike for days afterward. He was persistent as usual, promising her the moon and the stars if only she'd forgive him. That was his tactic, both in and out of court – to keep chipping away until he finally got what he wanted.
Eventually, he wore her down. He always did.
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She finishes eating, and asks the waitress for the bill. To hell with him.
Still, she has to wonder just what it is about him that keeps her from walking away. He screws up frequently – acting like a jerk, forgetting things, basically being inconsiderate of her feelings – but he's always sorry in the end.
That's what gets her, she realizes. Every time he looks at her with those blue eyes – wide like a child's – and promises for the thousandth time that whatever he's done will never happen again, she's helpless to end it. And she knows it.
She's about to leave when Mike rushes into the diner, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Sorry I'm late," he says. "There was an accident on Lexington Avenue."
Yes, Connie knows that she can do better. But she settles for what she's got.
finis