Title: A Question of Might

Rating: PG

Pairing: Vague Cutter/Rubirosa UST

Summary: Episode tag from S18, ep7 – 'Quit Claim'.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

A/N: This is my first foray into the L&O fandom. I'm not entirely sure where this came from, but I just absolutely adore the new EADA. :D Blame it all on him.

Michael Cutter tapped out the last few words in his email, hitting the buttons on his Blackberry a little harder than was strictly necessary.

It didn't make him feel much better. Normally, after such a soul-sucking case, he'd head over to the batting cage. He'd hit fast balls until he felt moderately human again. But winter had arrived overnight leaving it too cold and blustery to be outside. Mike supposed he could go to the gym he supposedly belonged to but batting indoors just wasn't the same. No, abusing his PDA would have to suffice.

"Hey."

Mike looked up as his ADA stuck her head in his office. His chest tightened and he wondered absently what a pulmonary embolism felt like. "Hey. I thought you'd gone home already."

She took a step in and leaned against the door jam. "Just finishing up some paperwork. You heading out soon?"

No. "Yeah." He glanced up to see the mild expression on Connie's face which meant she thought he was full of crap but too polite to verbalize it.

"Try not to work too late, Mike," she said. "Your Blackberry will still be functioning tomorrow."

Mike grunted noncommittally and started scrolling through his phonebook.

Connie sighed and left but popped her head back in a moment later.

"Hey, what did you mean the other day?"

"You'll have to clarify 'other day', counselor."

"In court, when you saw that old picture of me, you said something about having a chance with me back then."

"Did I?"

She narrowed he eyes questioningly. "What did you mean?"

Mike carefully kept his gaze glued to his PDA screen. "I didn't mean anything by it. It was a joke."

"A joke."

No. "Yep."

Mike felt her eyes on him and his chest tightened again. He met her gaze, forcing himself to keep his face impassive, his expression innocent. He knew she could probably hear his heart hammering in his chest. There was no way she couldn't when there were probably people in the suburbs wondering what the strange thundering noise was.

After a moment, one corner of Connie's mouth quirked upward. "You never know, Mike. You might still."

"Might…" He trailed off, thinking, Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Good night," she said with a smile and slipped out the door.

"Might?" Mike repeated. He jumped to his feet, threw his Blackberry on his desk, and loped out into the corridor. Connie was already halfway down the hall. "Might?" he yelled, arms akimbo. "What does that mean?"

Connie grinned back at him. "'Night, Mike."