A/N: In "Betrayal," a Season 18 episode of Law & Order, it is revealed that Dr. Elizabeth Olivet had an affair with a police officer she counseled after his partner was shot. Though the detective wasn't named, it was strongly implied that the detective was Mike Logan. Though their relationship ended at some point later episodes indicate they've maintained their friendship and affection for each other.

Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing.

'Doctor Olivet is ready for you now,' the receptionist says, and Mike Logan stands up abruptly, heading towards the open door and the slim brunette woman holding it open.

'Detective Logan? I'm Dr. Olivet,' she says, extending a long-fingered hand to shake his in a surprisingly competent grip. He shakes her hand quickly, his eyes taking in her figure, her shapely legs, her narrow waist, before meeting her blue eyes, cool and appraising. In her assessment of him, she notices the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, the tightness in his shoulders, the way his six-foot-something frame seems coiled tight as a spring. She releases his hand and closes the door, indicating a chair for him before she walks over to her own seat.

'So, Detective Logan,' she begins calmly, settling into her chair, legs crossed. 'You're here because-'

'Can you just bust my chops and get it over with?' he snaps.

She raises an eyebrow. She isn't surprised by his bad manners; indeed, she expects it, and she continues in the same calm voice. 'The purpose of this little get-together is emphatically not to "bust your chops," as you put it. It's to help you accept your partner's death-'

'I accept it,' he interrupts. 'Boom, he's dead, end of story.'

'Also, to help the officer in trouble reach a sense of closure…' she continues, still serene.

'All right. First of all, I'm not in trouble, okay? Matter of fact I'm alive and I'm on the case. Second of all, I'm Irish Catholic. I got a sense of closure at Max's wake.'

She leans back in her chair, regarding him curiously. 'Well then, there's no problem.'

'That's right. Can I go now?' he asks anxiously, shifting in his chair like a child eager to escape school.

Liz holds up her hands, gesturing to the door, and watches with a niggling sense of concern.

As he reaches the door, he turns back to her. With just a hint of his famous charm he says, 'Hey, listen, thanks a lot-but really, I'm fine.'

'Hey Detective,' she calls back. 'Ever hear of the seven stages of grief?'

'No,' he says.

'The first one's denial,' she tells him.

He looks at her coolly. 'I'm fine.'

She raises her eyebrows as he hightails it out of her office, slamming the door shut behind him.

As he's left ten minutes into their appointment she has ample time to take her notes and prepare her preliminary report for Captain Cragen. Detective Logan did behave far more coolly than his reputation suggests and she is surprised. She hasn't been working at the 27th Precinct for too long but she's already heard tell of his temper… and the legendary notches on his bedpost. She's had him pegged before she met him and when he slouched into her office, his eyes skimming her legs, she felt a small, smug surge of complacency at her accurate estimation of his character even as she fought back a blush. He was far handsomer than she'd noticed from afar if you like those Black Irish looks, with the dark hair and flashing hazel eyes...

He promises to be a difficult case. He is clearly reluctant to share anything at all and his attention can barely last the ten minutes of their abortive session. He's angry, that's certain, and uncomfortable at being sent to see her. This will be an uphill battle and for a long moment she wishes she declined this job. But she wants to help people, and if she can help Logan she deserves a medal.

She has a damn fine figure, he'll admit, but despite that she's emphatically not his type. He doesn't need a woman with all of those letters after her name, someone who could run rings around him, especially not when there's that hot blonde at his local bar. If he wasn't being forced to get his head shrunk then he'd definitely enjoy their meetings, sitting across from her with a prime view of her shapely legs. But he is being forced, and he hopes that these sessions pass just as quickly as this week's. He doesn't have the time to waste here; endless sessions with a shrink will only dredge up memories best kept quiet, and they certainly won't help him find Max's killer.

Two days after Logan's first appointment, one day after she submits her initial report, she returns to the 27 for an interview with Captain Cragen. She knocks on his office door.

'Come in!' he calls, and she pushes open the door.

'Doctor Olivet,' he says. 'Take a seat. Thanks for coming to see me.'

'Of course, Captain,' she replies, closing the door behind her, then sitting down in the chair in front of his desk.

'So, I read your report, but tell me-how did Mike's first session go? Can we take him off the desk?'

'He's in denial,' she says carefully. 'Of course I can't go into any details, but he hasn't yet accepted his partner's death.'

'It just happened, I don't expect him to get over it so quickly. They were partners for a long time. But do you think he'd do anything irrational, dangerous? Is he all right to go back in the field? We need to get these guys, Doc, and Mikey's our best chance.'

She weighs his words, thinks back to the preternaturally calm-at least for him-detective who visited her office. 'I think that you should be careful. I don't know Detective Logan well, but I've heard tell of his temper. He seems to be very calm and in control right now, motivated to find his partner's killer. He says he has closure.'

'In control… that's a first. Do you think he's lying?' Cragen asks her.

She pauses for a moment. 'I think that he wants to be over his partner's death-I think that he wants to bring Detective Greevey justice. Allowing him to do so might be the best way to help him past this.'

'Thanks, Doctor,' he says. She rises.

'I'll still need to see Detective Logan before I can sign off, you realize.'

'Yes, of course.'

'Even if he thinks that we're finished.'

'I'll tell him. Thanks again, Doc.'

She nods and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Of course she underestimated Mike Logan's temper. Barely a week later he was back in her office and this time he was a completely different person than the man she'd met with last Wednesday. Where than man had been calm, this one was practically shaking with barely-suppressed anger. She'd heard what happened from both Ben Stone and Don Cragen-that Logan, after getting a lead from a member of the grand jury, had tracked down the man's son and held a gun to his head, demanding his confession. Of course it came out, and according to all accounts Logan wasn't remorseful, only upset that the confession and all the subsequent evidence-enough to convict the man-was tossed.

'How are you doing, Logan?' she asks when he barges his way into her office.

'You've heard what happened, I guess,' he says, looking up at her.

'I have, yes. But do you want to tell me about it?'

'No point,' he shrugs. 'I'm sure you've heard all there is to know.'

'I suppose I have. So Stone's holding you responsible for Magadan almost getting off. Do you think that's fair?' she asks.

'No, I don't. But I don't give a damn what he thinks.'

'That's not what I asked you.'

'It's not?' he responds, aggravated.

She shakes her head. 'What I'm asking is-do you feel it's a fair assessment?'

He leans forward, his eyes flashing dangerously. 'You mean, do I feel responsible for Max getting blown away? Maybe if I'd gone home with him, you know, maybe he wouldn't've gotten zipped. Maybe I should've just stepped in front of that bullet myself, right?'

She nods encouragingly, hoping that he'll continue, but he sags back in his chair.

'No,' he continues, and some of the fire in his voice has been quenched. 'I don't feel responsible. I feel incredibly… angry. That one of your seven stages?' he asks sarcastically.

She nods again, ignoring the sarcasm.

'Great.'

'It's a good thing, Logan,' she chides him gently. 'It means you're moving forward, one step closer to acceptance.'

He shrugs angrily. 'How'm ever going to accept Max's death if I can't do anything about it? Cragen's put me on a desk and I have to take vacation time-as if I could relax while Max's killer is on the loose. He did it and he's just walking around! Stone should've gotten the confession admitted. I didn't shoot the bastard, though I should've. That would've solved the problem.'

'You didn't shoot him because you know that would be wrong. You're not a murderer, Logan, even if you do want to kill that man.'

'I wish I could believe that, Doc,' he says with a glimmer of humor. 'But I suppose you know best.'

Well, she doesn't, and while she generally likes to maintain the air of mystique that seems to surround all psychologists-it amused her that people often treated her profession as akin to witchcraft-with him she is annoyed. 'You're smarter than that, Detective,' she says, allowing her calm facade to drop just the slightest amount. 'I'm just here to help you work through things on your own. You know yourself best, and I hope that you can see that your desire was motivated by a sense of justice and not a sense of revenge.'

He quirks his eyebrows up and looks at her levelly, not looking away even as she feels herself flush. The ticking of her grandmother's old clock on the mantel seems to slow as she returns his gaze.

'So you think I'm a good man, then, Doc?' he asks, and there is a note of flirtation in his voice. It frustrates and attracts her at the same time.

'It matters what you think,' she replies, a cop-out as she struggles to maintain her professional demeanor and control of the session. He continues looking at her, unsettling her, and she speaks again. 'I do know you're a good cop. That matters, too.'

'Does it?'

'Of course.'

He nods briskly, suddenly businesslike once again, as though she's confirmed something for him.

As they lapse into a not-quite-comfortable silence the clock on her mantel chimes the hour.

'That's our session, then,' she says in surprise, rising from her chair.

'I can see myself out,' he says, and nods to her. 'Thanks, Doc.'

She sits back down and watches as he leaves the room. This time, to her surprise, his thanks were genuine.