Note: Post "Tango," because I always wondered how Connie and Mike made up at the end of the episode.
She felt him coming closer before he really did, the smell of his cologne tickling her nose, his knees sliding towards her chair. His mouth formed the sound of her name, but she cut him off. "Don't."
She left the courtroom without looking back, knowing if she did, she'd see the surprised look on his face. He didn't follow her like she thought he would. She wanted him to feel bad for using her to win the case. She wanted him to realize the consequences of his steadfast pursuit of justice. Most of all, she wanted him to run after her, ask for forgiveness, learn from his mistake.
But she knew. He wasn't that kind of person. He wasn't going to give her the sincere apology she wanted. He might be the best prosecutor in New York. He might be well-spoken, confident, and merciless in the courtroom. But she knew he didn't quite understand her, didn't quite understand the way she felt.
She was more upset than angry. It was the first time he had truly hurt her feelings, and she was surprised at how much it stung. She was even more surprised when tears began to rise behind her eyes, threatening to spill. She wanted to duck into the women's bathroom, but it was down the hall and she wasn't so sure she could hold it in until she got there. She headed for the elevator, glad it was empty. She didn't bother waiting for the doors to slide shut for themselves, she just pressed the Close button.
And then there he was, his hands pushing at the doors to get in. They gave away, he came inside and they glided smoothly together. "Connie…"
She didn't reply. She looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at the wall. She didn't want to look at him right now. She tried to swallow her tears, knowing they would come pouring
out any minute. If she cried in front of him, that would only make the situation so much more awkward. There was some unwritten rule out there that said you should never cry in front of your boss.
"Connie, I'm sorry."
"Connie, I shouldn't have…"
He was repeating her name over and over again, with each breath he took, with every attempt he tried to make to apologize. He was struggling, and she felt perversely happy to see him grasping for words, which rarely happened in the courtroom.
"Connie, say something."
She'd always liked the way he said her name, emphasizing on the C and saying the rest of it naturally, quietly. She lowered her eyes but found her voice.
"Using me to win the case was…" She tried to find the right word. "…it was…mean."
"Mean," he repeated, and she could hear the trace of arrogance in his voice.
"It was disrespectful." There. That was better.
"I didn't think you would be so upset, Connie."
She didn't answer. She just looked at her feet and held back more tears. If she cried in front of him, she would never live it down.
"I thought I meant more to you," she managed to get out.
She didn't hear him respond. She glanced at him, trying to gouge a reaction. He looked confused, but he didn't ask her to clarify. That comment was enough to open the complicated doors that made up their relationship. He was smart, but he wasn't nosy. They both listened to the whooshing of the elevator for a moment.
"I know you're passionate about your work," she said.
"A little too passionate," he said.
She nodded at the floor. "Yes."
They were quiet for a moment.
"I hope you can forgive me," he finally said. She sneaked a peek at him. He was staring straight at the wall, averting eye contact. She knew it must have been hard for him to say that, hard for him to apologize.
The tears were still threatening to come out, but she had control over them – somewhat. She sniffled without thinking and he looked at her, alarmed. "I'm fine," she said, refusing to look at him. "Thank you."
He nodded.
The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out at the same time. "Do you want to get a bite to eat?" He was ready to move on. She didn't blame him. Neither of them wanted to delve deeper into the confines of their personal relationship, which were mostly unknown.
She offered him a small smile. "Sure," she said, even though she wasn't hungry.
It was times like these she wasn't sure if they were friends or not, if they could ever be friends, if they could ever be anything else. But somehow, she could live with that.