Schmaltz's Funeral Home

December 30, 2004

8:45 pm

Mike Logan stepped outside of the crowded funeral home and gratefully let the cold winter air envelop him.

"Mike, you okay?" Don Cragen's voice began, causing him to turn his head quickly.

"Yeah, Don, I'm good," Logan lied.

"Looks like everyone's heading to O'Malley's…you coming?"

Logan shrugged, looking away. Feeling his former commander's hand on his shoulder he looked up.

"Come on," Cragen coaxed, "We're gonna give Lennie a true Irish wake…"

Logan felt a smile form, "Yeah, he deserves it, doesn't he?"

Cragen nodded, "I'll pour you home, if you need me to."

"Shit, Don, I forgot…"

Cragen shook his head to dismiss Logan's thought. "Just cuz I gave up drinking doesn't mean I can't sit there and remember Lennie. Now, come on, before we freeze our asses off out here."

O'Malley's Tavern

December 30, 2004

10:30 pm

Jack McCoy knew he'd had enough to drink, but the night was young and he wasn't quite ready to go home. Something about mulling around his empty house, thinking about life and death and being alone kept him rooted to his stool.

He studied the crowd in the bar. All of them had known Lennie Briscoe through out his NYPD career. All were there to pay his respects. He wondered how many would show up to pay their respects when his time came. He figured some of this crowd would show up. If for no other reason than to have an excuse to get shit faced. Jack laughed at that thought, causing the redhead to his right to raise a brow and look at him.

"Jack," fellow Executive Assistant to the District Attorney, Kate O'Hara began, looking up from her glass of scotch, "You're not taking your bike home."

"I'll be fine," Jack McCoy dismissed, sipping from his own glass.

"Yeah, after about six cups of coffee," she laughed.

"And you're sober?"

"I'm 20 times more sober than you," she insisted, "At least I'm not randomly laughing at my own thoughts."

"Nobody laughs at your thoughts, Kate," he dryly said, then, smiled at her.

"You're flirting with disaster, McCoy," Kate laughed. "Seriously, how are you getting home?"

"Serena's driving me," he decided, looking around the crowded bar for the blond ADA. "Wherever she is."

"Well, if she ditches you, let me know."

"Why, Kate, you mean you'd take me home?" he playfully said.

"Yeah, cuz I don't want your caseload dumped in my lap…" she shot back, finishing her drink. "I'm gonna go for another…"

"Go on, I'll be here, holding down the fort…"

Shaking her head, Kate walked up to the bar. Finding an open spot, she slipped in and leaned on the polished wood, waiting for the bartender to approach. As she did, she scanned the crowd sitting around the bar. There was an equal mix of police officers and lawyers, all of whom worked with Lennie Briscoe over the years and all of whom were there to remember him, to talk about him, to celebrate his life. Her eyes were drawn to a lone figure at the far end of the bar.

It was Mike Logan sitting alone, staring morosely into a glass of amber liquid, that she'd bet her paycheck was Jamison's. She hadn't seen him six years. Of course, it had taken her three of those six years to be able to think about him without castration coming into her mind. She studied him. He'd put on a couple of pounds and there was some graying around his temples, but on him, it looked good.

"What can I get you, Gorgeous?" Phil the bartender asked.

"Another Chivas rocks, Phil," she said, watching as he took her glass and walked off. Her eyes were drawn back to Logan. She could see the sadness etched in his features. Even though he and Lennie hadn't been partners for years, he was a partner once. Mike had lost enough partners, losing another would have to suck. Losing Lennie would be worse. He was a big brother, a father figure…more than just a partner to Mike. Her heart went out to him.

After Phil brought her scotch and took the five dollar bill from her hand, she stood for a moment. She'd intended to go back and sit with McCoy, he wasn't dealing with Lennie's death to well himself. She looked back at the table and noticed that Serena Southerlyn and a few other members of the group from the DA's office had joined him while she was at the bar. Deciding that he would be okay, she walked down the bar to where Logan sat.

As she slipped into the recently vacated stool to his left, she sat her glass on the table.

Logan felt a presence sit in the empty stool to his left. Great, he thought, another person who wants to make small talk. Not raising his eyes, he looked over at the glass of scotch, being held by a female hand, with neatly French manicured nails. His eyes traveled up the length of the hand, to where it disappeared under a black pinstriped suit jacket. Lawyer, his alcohol addled brain decided, then decided to place a face with the jacket.

Raising his head, he looked at the woman, taking in the familiar dark red hair and expressive brown eyes. "Kate." He sounded almost surprised to see her there.

"Hey, Mike," she softly said, placing her hand on his arm. "How are ya?"

"Drunk," he honestly said, amazed that she was speaking to him.

"Yeah, I can tell," she smiled, then, "You're wearing your best Keep the hell away from me look, too."

"Yeah, well…" he sniffed, taking a drink. After he swallowed, he looked at her, "Didn't stop you from coming over."

"I like a challenge."

"You…look good," he said, wishing he wasn't so drunk. Last he'd talked to her, six years ago, wasn't pretty. Yet, here she stood, smiling, her hand still on his arm.

"Thanks," she nodded, "You do too…"

"You must be as drunk as I am," he dryly laughed, "If you think I look good."

She stood for a moment, fighting a mental war with herself. She knew she should just walk back over to where the rest of the group from the DA's office sat and leave him there to stew in his own juices. Don Cragen or Anita VanBuren would drive him home. They were good like that. She wasn't responsible for Mike Logan any more, not that she guessed she ever was. Instead of walking away, she said, "Have you eaten?"

He shook his head.

"Let me buy you something to eat, okay?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"I know what you're going through," she quietly said, "And I saw you sitting here alone…I don't think you need to be alone tonight."

"And you're my own Personal Jesus tonight?" was his dry reply.

"Screw you," she returned, removing her hand from his arm and picking up her scotch. "Sorry I bothered you; I'll leave you alone to wallow." She started to stand, but he clamped his hand on her arm. She spun, giving him a withering look.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I…"

"It's okay," she dismissed, sitting back down.

"No, it isn't," he insisted, not removing his hand from her arm. "I'm sorry…for everything."

"Okay, you're drunk, and you need food and sleep or you're never going to make the funeral tomorrow," she stood up again. "I'm gonna drive you out to your place…is Prosky's Diner still around?" she mentioned a small diner near his Staten Island apartment.

"I'm staying in the city," he said, "I got a hotel room."

Kate raised a brow, "You got a hotel room?"

"Yeah, figured I wouldn't make it tomorrow if I had to come in from my place," he admitted. "I'm staying at the 3030."

"Then I'll take you there," she stood, "Come on…"

3030 Hotel, Room 217

December 30, 2004

11:45 pm

"Room service said it will take 20 minutes," Kate announced, hanging up the phone. "This place must be empty tonight."

Logan stood in front of the honor bar, studying the small bottles.

"No," Kate said, stepping up behind him and shutting the cabinet. "No more alcohol."

He turned and studied her, "Why do you care?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe cuz I'm upset and have had too much to drink tonight myself and my ability to think rationally has taken the night off?"

"Bull shit."

"Okay," she smartly said, "You wanna know the truth? I saw you sitting all alone at the end of the bar and I could see how much this kicked your ass. I didn't want you to be alone…"

"Why?"

"I don't freakin' know," she replied, exasperated. "I'm a lawyer, not a psychiatrist, Mike."

He laughed, "Trekkie."

She cracked a smile, remembering how he used to tease her about paraphrasing Star Trek episodes. "Yeah, well…"

"I missed you," he simply said, sitting down hard in a wing chair.

"Did you?"

He nodded, "I thought about calling you a couple of times, but…you were hooked up with McCoy…"

"That's long done," she sniffed. "It didn't last long. Once I got my promotion, we became friends again. It's like a bad blink in history."

"I didn't know…I saw you with him tonight…"

"Jack's another Irishman who thinks he can hold his liquor. Somebody had to watch out for his ass and since I don't want to have his case load dumped on my desk, I figured I'd be the one."

Logan took a deep breath and released it slowly, "I need another drink."

"You need food," she insisted.

"He didn't freakin' tell me, Katie," Logan quietly said, "I didn't know he was that sick."

"He tried to keep it from everybody, Mikey," she softly said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, but…shit…I knew he'd cut back his hours, he said he was going to spend more time playing the ponies…" he hung his head. "Shit."

"Mike…" She sat on the arm of the wing chair and slipped her arm around his shoulders. "He didn't want anybody to see him at the end…"

"Yeah, but come on…"

"I know," she agreed. "It would have been nice to have a warning…"

Logan's voice was quiet, "Would've been nice to get to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry, Mike," she quietly said, hugging him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her, resting his head on her chest. It felt good to have her in his arms. He could hear her heart beating; smell the soft familiar scent of her cologne. For a moment, it was as if the past six years had disappeared.

Kate rested her chin on the top of his head and held him tightly. She didn't want to admit that it felt good to have his arms around her again. Closing her eyes, she held him, not allowing her mind to think of anything except the white noise of the room heater.

They sat that way, neither speaking, neither moving, until a sharp knock at the door and the announcement of "Room Service", pulled them from their embrace.

Kate stood and walked to the door, holding it open while the porter carried in a large tray and set it on the small table. They'd charged the food to the room, but she slipped the man a ten dollar bill and thanked him, sending him on his way. After closing the door, she turned to find Logan standing at the table, inspecting the food on the tray.

"Eat that sandwich and then I'm putting you to bed," she commanded, handing him a water bottle, "Drink this, too."

"Yes, Mom," he said, taking a bite of the turkey club.

Kate picked up the other water bottle that sat on the tray, opened it and took a long drink. She knew she'd have a headache in the morning, but she'd still be better off than a lot of the rest of them would.

"Talk to me," Logan said, sitting on the bed.

"Finish your sandwich," she prompted.

"I'm finishing it," he returned, holding up the plate to show half of the sandwich gone. He didn't realize how hungry he'd been.

"Good," she smiled, sitting next to him and sipping from her water bottle. "What do you want me to talk to you about, Mikey?"

He smiled; she'd called him "Mikey". Only two people had ever been able to get away with it. Lennie was one, and Katie was the other. "What's new with you?"

"Not a lot," she shrugged. "I'm busy at work; I'm on the Board of the Manhattan Women of Law…that's about it. What about you?"

"Workin'," he shrugged. 'That's about it."

"How's Georgeanne?" she asked, feeling a gnawing in her stomach.

Logan looked at her quickly, surprised to hear that name. It had been years since he'd seen Georgeanne Taylor. She'd broken up with him only days after Katie had. That had been a banner week. "That's long done," he paraphrased her. "Lasted something like three days after you and I broke up."

She raised a brow, "What happened?"

He took a long drink of water, swallowed, and then spoke. "Didn't work."

As irrational as Kate thought it was that comment felt like a slap in the face. "I see."

Logan, who was still way past the legal limit, but who's buzz had mellowed incredibly since he ate, realized the effect his comment had. "Shit, Katie, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry…"

"No, I am," he insisted, setting the empty plate and the water bottle on the floor near the bed. He took her hands, "I screwed up…I think that was the only thing I did well back then…"

"Mike," she softly protested.

He shook his head, "No, let me finish…I screwed up. I got too close to the case, too close to the victim…"

"Too close to the victim's sister," she said, then instantly regretted it.

"You're right, I did…but I was working on her sister's murder. And I solved it, Katie. Me and Silvera busted our asses…it was almost like being back at the 2-7, a real case. And Georgeanne…she thought I was something special. I put her sister's murderer away. I was there for her through the whole thing…"

"Must've been a real ego boost, huh? To have someone look at you like you're a hero." She allowed. "I know how good it must've felt."

"Yeah, it did. And both of us kinda took the feeling in the wrong direction…"

She nodded.

"I didn't think. It was stupid. I have no excuse except I was totally messed up in the head…."

"Mike," she protested.

"No, Katie, it's true. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You stuck by me through a ton of shit…"

"I loved you," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know that now," he seriously said, "Back then…I didn't think…"

"Times change, people change," she mused. "Maybe you've grown up."

"Some," he allowed, trying a smile.

"That's right, it is you we're discussing," she teased, then watched as his features clouded again. "Talk to me, Mike."

"You're something else, Katie," he said, full of admiration. "If I was you and I'd seen my drunk ass sitting in the bar tonight, I'd have let myself sit."

"Yeah, well, I always did like to take in strays," she blushed.

"Guess you don't still hate me, huh?"

"I never hated you, Mikey. I disliked you intensely for a couple of years…but time passes…"

He studied her face for a moment, then, leaned forward and softly kissed her. It was a soft, tentative kiss that lingered for a few moments before he pulled back.

"Mike…" she began, her brain fighting her body on how to handle this latest development to the already too emotional night.

"I'm sorry…" he stopped, and then firmly said, "No, I'm not sorry."

"I'm not either," she softly said, as her brain, dulled by emotion and slowed by the scotch, slowly gave in to her body. She kissed him, a little more surely, then pulled back. "I should leave."

"Stay with me?" he asked, putting his arms around her.

"We're drunk, we're emotional…"

"We're adults, we've done this before…" he said, "Katie…" he kissed her again.

She wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss with passion. As they kissed, their hands exploring each other, they lay back onto the bed. "Mike…" she said, as he unbuttoned her silk blouse, "Mike…"

"What?" he looked at her, as if just waking.

"Do you have…" she began, but he cut her off with a kiss.

"In my wallet," he simply said, feeling her body relax. "Been single too long to be stupid."

She smiled at him, "Every time?"

He nodded, "Every time."

"Good," she returned, kissing him deeply.

O'Malley's Tavern

December 31, 2004

4:45 PM

For the second day in a row, Mike Logan sat at the bar in O'Malley's Pub, drinking to Lennie Briscoe's memory. But this time, he wasn't alone. He sat with Rey Curtis and Ed Greene. Both had been Lennie's partner after he left and all three of them had been asked to be pall bearers at the funeral. They approached each other with cold indifference at first. After five minutes of wary glances and shuffling feet, Rey Curtis broke the ice with a memory that made them all laugh. Over the course of the day, they shared memories and stories and now, they sat, at the corner of the bar.

Truth be known, Logan was tired and didn't want to sit there any longer. No offense to Lennie, but the past 24 hours had been hard on him. He wanted to lie down, to sleep…to see Kate again. But, aside from many glances and reassuring looks over the course of the day, he hadn't had any contact with Kate after she left his hotel room early that morning. She'd spent the day in a tight circle of people from the DA's office. A couple of times, he noticed her crying and there was McCoy, comforting her. She said they were just friends, and he believed her, but something about the situation still pissed him off.

Not that he had any rights to her. Not any more. He blew that years ago.

"Hey, Logan," Ed Greene's voice began, "Do you see the action Munch is getting?"

"Huh? Where?" Logan looked up.

"Hot redhead, too hot for Munch," Curtis laughed.

"I don't know, Curtis," Greene laughed, "We could be looking at the fourth Mrs. Munch…or is it the fifth?"

"Where?" Logan asked, searching the crowd for a redhead.

"Over at the juke box," Curtis explained, nodding that way. He watched as Logan looked to the juke box. After a moment, his eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on his glass. He looked over at the woman again and recognition set in. "Hey, wait, isn't that Kate O'Hara from the DA's office?"

"Yeah, that's her," Logan said, willing himself to remain calm.

"Logan, you okay?" Greene asked, picking up on Logan's mood shift.

"Fine," he sniffed, then, "She's drunk and Munch is moving in for an easy score."

"She's drunk?" Curtis asked, studying her, watching as she stood, leaning against the juke box, laughing and talking to Munch. It was obvious that she wasn't offended by his advances. She seemed quite amused by the whole thing. "She looks okay to me…"

Logan shook his head, "Look at her face…"

"She's flushed," Greene allowed, then with a sly smile, "Redheads are even sexier when they're flushed."

"Redheads are sexy, period," Curtis agreed, then, "But I don't know if that's because she's drunk or because it's warm in here."

Logan shook his head again, "No, that's what she looks like when she's buzzed."

"How do you know that?" Green asked with a laugh.

Logan debated for a moment, then casually said, "I dated her…years ago…"

"Ah, I get it," Greene nodded, "And you're either jealous or protective."

"Both," Logan firmly said, setting down his glass and standing up. "And I'm going to go interrupt Munch's mating dance…"

"Go for it," Curtis laughed, "Just don't start a brawl, I promised my wife I'd be home before her family got there for New Years Eve."

"I'm not gonna start a fight, Curtis," Logan rolled his eyes. "Besides, I could take Munch in a heart beat."

"It ain't Munch I'm worried about, Logan," Greene said, sitting up in his seat, "It's the fact that Stabler and Tutuolo will jump your ass to save his."

"Relax," Logan held up a hand, "I'm not drunk, I'm not going to be a cave man, I'm just going to go get Kate out of there before she ends up screwing the guy…" Logan looked at both of them. "Watch me work, Gentlemen." With that, he walked off.

"He doesn't have it bad for her, does he?" Greene knowingly said.

"A blind man could see that one," Curtis agreed, watching Logan walk across the bar.

"So, what do you say, Kate?" Munch asked, "We could go get some dinner…see in the New Year together?"

"John," Kate began, but was cut off by Logan's voice.

"Kate, how are ya?"

"Mike," Kate began, with a laugh. "How are ya?"

"Munch," Logan acknowledged, nodding his head.

Munch returned the nod, "Logan."

"So," Kate began, plainly tickled by Mike's presence and the ruffled feathers he thought he was covering up. "What brings you down here?"

"Saw you standing there, thought I'd take you to dinner to make up for last night."

Here it comes, she thought. He's going to mark his territory.

"Last night?" Munch asked, clearly curious.

"Yeah," Logan casually explained, "Kate poured me back to my hotel and got me room service."

Munch raised a brow. "You're a good woman, Kate."

"I try," she replied, waiting for Logan to go in for the kill. She could tell by the smart ass smile what was coming next.

"She is," Logan agreed, "She wouldn't even let me buy her breakfast this morning before she left…"

"Kate," Munch said, clearly sounding disappointed, "Why didn't you tell me you'd hooked up with the King of Staten Island? Or are you trying to forget it ever happened?"

Without even looking at him, Kate could feel Logan tensing, preparing for a come back. Casually, she reached out and took his fisted hand into hers, squeezing hard. She smiled at Munch. "John, a lady doesn't kiss and tell… unless she's got a six figure book deal."

"So, you're going back for round two, huh?" Munch sniffed, deciding he didn't want to push it. "Have fun…I'll see you in court." With that, he walked away.

"Okay, Caveman," Kate laughed, turning to Logan, "Turn down the testosterone."

"I'm sorry," Logan quietly said, clearly still aggravated. "You've had too much to drink and Munch was coming in for the kill."

"I have had a lot to drink, Mikey, not too much. Besides it's me you're talking about," she reminded, not sure if she was tickled or pissed by his protective actions. "I'm not some cheep whore who's going to lay down with someone just because they spent more than they should buying me 18 year old scotch all night. Shit, if I was going to do that, I'd be screwing McCoy right now," she countered, staring him down. "You're just being all macho and protective."

"Don't do that to me, Katie," he said, feeling himself stirring into life.

"Do what?"

"Stare me down like that," he said, "You know what that does to me."

"Yeah, I do," she laughed. "Which is why I did it."

"You are such a lawyer," he said, allowing her a smile.

"And you're a caveman cop," she countered, her smile mirroring his.

"Let me take you to dinner," he offered. "I owe you one for last night."

"Mikey, it's New Years Eve, where're we gonna get a table?"

"Shit, I didn't think of that," he spat, cursing his luck.

"I'm gonna regret this," she began, "But there's this amazing pizza place around the corner from my apartment…I know we'll be able to get a table there tonight."

"Pizza? I wanted to take you somewhere nice," he sounded disappointed and it touched her.

"Pizza's good, this place actually is kinda nice, and it's all we're gonna get tonight. Take it or leave it…"

"Let's go…"

Apartment of Executive ADA Katrina O'Hara

January 1, 2005

12:15 am

The sound of sirens out on the street woke Mike Logan from his sleep. A life long New Yorker, it wasn't so much the sound, hell, sirens were a nightly occurrence. What woke Logan was the fact that the sounds came from a window to his right side, as opposed to one to his left like in his apartment.

It took a moment for his sleep addled mind to recall the past night's events and remind him of his current location. Kate's apartment. With a smile, he opened his eyes. The dim light from the bathroom cast enough of a glow that he could take in his surroundings. After scanning the room, he directed his gaze to Kate, who slept next to him.

Her arm was draped across his chest, her head rested on a pile of pillows. Her dark red hair fell forward, covering her face. Without thinking, he gently pulled the hair back from her face.

Startled by the action, her eyes flew open. It took a moment for her to wake enough to recognize him and break into a smile. "Hey."

"Hey," he returned, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you…"

"It's okay," she dismissed. "You been awake long?"

He shook his head, "Sirens woke me a minute ago." He leaned over and softly kissed her.

"What time is it?" she yawned.

He looked over her shoulder to the alarm clock, "12:15."

"We missed the new year," she said, with a faint trace of disappointment in her voice.

"You always did like to watch the ball drop in Times Square, "he remembered.

"I guess it gave the old year closure, you know?" she shrugged,

"I think we already did the closure thing this year…"

"Yeah, we did." She studied his face in the dim light. "What are we doing?"

"Laying in bed and talking," he tried, although he knew that wasn't what she meant.

"Mike…"

"I don't know, Katie," he quietly returned, lying back onto the pillows. He stared at the ceiling. "I have no idea…"

"You seeing anybody?"

"Not steady. You?"

"Not at all," she quietly said. "At least we didn't cheat on anybody…"

He looked at her, "That's all you can come up with?"

"I don't know what to say, Mikey," she sighed, hating how dramatic it sounded. "We're both upset; it's a horrible time of year…"

"And I want to see you again," he quickly said, watching her expression move from confusion to disbelief. "Yeah, we hooked up and yeah, drunk or not, you gotta admit the sex was good."

"It was always good, Mikey, that wasn't the problem."

"I know, but shit, Katie, you said it yourself. People change. I've been living my life out in the seventh circle of Hell and it's changed me. I'm not who I was when I moved out there." Her expression hadn't changed, so he continued. "I'm still the same kind of cop…but I'm not the same outside of work."

"Neither am I," she simply said, then, "You may not want to keep seeing me…"

"You haven't changed that much. Sure, you're an Executive ADA now…longer hours, more stress…"

"What does Jack call me? Queen of All Bitches?" she dryly laughed.

"You gotta be, to deal with what you deal with every day," he allowed. "I'm living proof of that."

"I'll bet you're still the best at playing Bad Cop in all of NYPD."

He shrugged. "When you have a reputation, you need to live up to it."

"Seeing each other wouldn't be easy, Mike. Our lives have changed a lot…you're still out on Staten Island, I'm living in the East Village…"

"You make it sound like we're on opposite ends of the world. If you don't want to see me, Katie, just tell me."

"It isn't that," she sighed.

"Then what is it. Either you want to or you don't," he grew defensive.

"It's not that simple…"

"Explain it to me."

"Most of me really wants to see you again. But there is a part of me that remembers why we aren't still together."

"Katie, I'm not that guy anymore. I'm not going to dick you over again."

"Most of me realizes that," she continued, then, deciding honesty was the best way to go, continued. "After you and I broke up, I spent about two years on my own. I didn't date anybody. I joined the Women in Law Group, spent a lot of time driving back and forth to Philly helping my dad open his second restaurant. Jack and I started dating about the time that happened. We decided we were going to be friends with benefits. No ties, no commitment. We'd both been burned too many times. It worked for a couple of years. About two months after I got elected to the Board of the group, I found out that he'd been seeing a neurosurgeon. They were having dinner in the same restaurant as the Board Meeting. I found them having a lovely romantic dinner, complete with hand holding and romantic gazes."

"What did you do?" he asked, knowing Kate, it had to be good.

"Most of the women in the Board were gone by the time I noticed them. I was waiting in the bar for a cab. When she got up to go to the bathroom, I walked over and sat down in her seat."

"Did he shit?"

"He nearly choked on his whiskey," she recalled, with an evil smile. "Then, I quietly told him, in language that would make a sailor blush, exactly what I though of him and that not only were we no longer friends, but the benefits were over, too. Then, I got up and left him sitting there."

"Shit," Logan laughed. "You're good."

"I was pissed. I mean, it didn't bother me that he was seeing someone else, we didn't have a commitment. What bothered me was that they obviously were having a real relationship…which made me the other woman. You know me, that's one thing I will never be…and the thing that pissed me off the most was that he knew that too."

"And since then? You been dating?"

She shrugged, "Here and there, but lately, no. My confidence in my ability to choose partners was seriously shaken."

"I get it…which is why you're not too thrilled with the idea of seeing me again. I screwed you over…you think I'll do it again."

"Like I said, Mikey, most of me can see that you've changed. I just have to convince the rest."

"Let me convince the rest," he seriously said, running his hand along the soft curve of her waist.

"You've convinced the body," she said, trying to the way her body was responding to her touch, "But only about 75 percent of the mind."

"Give me a chance with that other 25 percent," he smiled at her.

"You're serious," she said, sounding amazed.

"I am. Katie I've been single my whole life…I ain't getting any younger and it's getting old."

Kate's eyes narrowed, "So this is all about the fact you're looking to settle down?"

"No, I'm not desperate to settle down…that's not what I'm sayin'."

"What are you saying?" she sniffed.

"I'm saying that when I think about it, you were probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I screwed it up…and whether or not you believe it, I'm still kicking my own ass over it." He took her hands in his. "You stuck by me…no matter how messed up I was, no matter what I was dealing with…no matter how much of an asshole I was. You were there. And you loved me. Even when we were fighting, even when you were pissed at me, you loved me. I understand it now. I don't think anybody has ever felt that way about me…"

"Mikey…"

"I mean it, Katie. You know what my childhood was like."

"I know," she quietly said. "You know…this is going to sound insane, but the part of me that doesn't trust this is the same part of me that never stopped loving you."

"That actually made sense," he smiled, then grew serious again. "What do you say? Can we try this again?"

She smiled at him, he was being honest and the expression on his face tore at her heart. She could tell that he'd changed and hoped that that it had been for the best. "You're gonna have to work at it…"

"You can call the shots…" he said, watching as she raised a brow, "Okay, most of the shots…"

"Oh no you're not giving me the reigns…the best relationships are partnerships and if you want to pursue this, that's what we'll be…"

"The Lawyer is showing again," he teased.

"Yeah, well, be lucky I'm not making you sign a contract."

"You want me to sign something, I will," he said, eyes twinkling.

"What are you going to do, write "I won't screw Kate over" 1000 times?" she laughed.

"Nope…" he reached across her and turned on the light. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, he pulled out the legal pad and pen that she always kept in her night stand drawer.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, watching as he took the cap off of the pen and started to write.

He wrote something on the pad, signed it with a flourish, and handed it back to her. "There…now you have a legally binding, signed agreement."

She studied the pad. In his familiar scrawling hand writing was written, "I, Michael Francis Logan, hereby swear that I will not screw over Katrina Malatesta O'Hara." He had signed and dated it as well. "Mikey…"

"You want it on a bill board in Times Square?"

"You can do that?" she laughed.

"If that's what it takes…"

She looked down at the pad again, then back up at him. "You win…"

"What?"

"You heard me, you win. We'll try this again. But I warn you Detective Logan, you've got your work cut out for you."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. "You won't be disappointed."

"See to it that I'm not," she laughed.