The standard disclaimer applies: All characters are property of Dick Wolf and NBC Universal. Not mine, not making money.
Connie was slowly woken from a sound, dreamless sleep by the figure tossing and turning next to her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed, reaching to turn on the light.
She looked at Mike. He was wide awake, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Mike, what gives?" She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's 2:45 in the morning."
"I know," he said. "I can't sleep. The damn case."
"Pastor Hensley?"
"Yeah." He turned to face her. "You know what I can't stand? He can go right back to selling his brand of violent fanaticism on impressionable children, and he'll probably say that he was acquitted because of God's will. He put those stones in Jason Lortell's hands."
"I know," Connie said. "And it frightens me. But your cross on Hensley was very strong, and so was your closing argument –"
"Wait a minute. I thought you said that we didn't prove our case."
"That's what I prefer to believe. I don't want to think that the jury liked Hensley's message."
"Neither do I." Mike pulled the covers around himself. "It's easier to take the hit."
Connie thought of the image of Lortell's brain that was now filed away in Mike's desk drawer. It occurred to her that Mike didn't even need to keep a souvenir this time – the case would be with him for years, probably long after Lortell had served his sentence.
She wanted to tell Mike that she'd been proud of him in court – of his passion in fighting for the children of Angelgrove. But the time wasn't right, and there weren't adequate words. And it would just come across as cold comfort.
So she took Mike's hand, squeezing it gently. He smiled at her, seeming to understand.
"Let's try to get some sleep," he said as they curled up together.
Connie turned off the light.
finis