Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own "Law and Order". I don't.
A/N: This is based on my AU of sorts. I'm one of many who were irritated by the fact that NBC just randomly put Connie on "Law and Order: LA". I personally think they did it because they wanted Alana to save their failing spin-off. I swear, they just wanted a Mother Ship character on there to try to keep the show afloat, despite the fact that it didn't do well at all—despite the fact that when it debuted, its reception was lukewarm at best. I personally found it extremely boring. The characters didn't engage me at all. The way I work is, if you can't make me care about your characters, then I definitely won't care what happens to them. I didn't even make it half-way through the season before I decided that the show was boring and blasé as hell. It was very half-assed, in my opinion. It didn't do justice to the "L+O" franchise whatsoever. And it ended up being cancelled after one season. Ha ha, NBC, ha ha—wake up and smell the karma! Anyway, what happens in my head is that Mike gets to a point where he just can't keep his feelings to himself anymore, so he takes a job in the Queens D.A.'s office so he and Connie can be together and not violate their no-relationships-with-coworkers mantra. This is the fourth story in my series. The first three are "Nothing", "Admit It", and "Newly-Attached".
This is for all my amazing readers! 8D Abby
First Date
Mike and Connie were on their first date, having dinner at an upscale restaurant.
"So what were you like in school?" Mike asked.
Connie swallowed a sip of champagne.
"What was I like in school? Um, I was a nerd," she replied with a small smile. "As in speech and debate team nerd—both in high school and college. And I'm not talking the cool events like memorized duo or improvised duo—I'm talking congress, debate, extemporaneous, where they give you a topic and you have a minute and a half to come up with a persuasive speech, those kinds of events—the nerdy ones. And I've got tournament trophies."
"Well that explains why you can argue with me better than anyone I've ever met," Mike said, affectionately teasing her, a small smile on his face.
Connie smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze.
"What about you, what were you like?" she asked.
"Well if you were a nerd, what does that make me? A super nerd?" Mike said.
"Aw, Mike."
"I played chess, Connie."
"Were you good at it?"
"Yeah. I won some tournaments."
"That explains your strategizing talent," Connie said kindly with a smile. "That's not nerdy. I actually think that's impressive. It takes real intelligence to be a good chess player. That is not nerdy—that is impressive. And there is nothing nerdy about playing baseball. What position were you?"
"Third base—and we won the state championship my senior year of high school…You know, you really know how to raise a man's self-esteem," Mike said, smiling. "Did you compete in law school?"
"Two years on NYU's mock trial team. How about you?"
"Hudson mock trial team—two years," Mike said.
"Nice!"
"I'm so glad you're EADA now," Mike went on sweetly. "It should be you. You're brilliant. You deserve it. And I'm not just saying that."
Connie smiled.
She heard him, but she couldn't help but stare at him. Sitting there across from her with his sleeves rolled up, a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, a small smile on his face—she thought he was so handsome.
"Thank you, honey. That means a lot. It really does," she told him warmly. "So I should tell you: right after I accepted the position, Jack and I talked. I've recused myself from the Woll appeals. I think working on them would be a conflict of interest, given my unfortunate history with the son-of-a-bitch and the fact that I testified against him. Jack appointed a special prosecutor last week. His name's Ignacio Quintero. He's from the Bronx. He worked at the D.A.'s office there for a while. He's also done private practice. Now he teaches law part time at Fordham. Jack said he's really good. Jenna, Brent, Antonio, and Sarah will be helping him," she added, listing some Homicide ADAs. "Jack put a couple interns on it, as well, so they can gain experience with the appeals process."
"That's great," Mike said sincerely. "I admire you for doing that, Connie. I don't know if I'd be able to myself."
"Thank you, sweetheart," said Connie. "It's not that I don't want to help get justice for everyone Woll murdered and cheated, but it just wouldn't have been appropriate."
"I completely understand," said Mike.
"Mike—I'm really happy to be here with you right now," Connie told him.
"I feel the same," Mike said.
He reached across the table and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.
"So has Jack found another ADA yet?" he then asked.
"Yeah—Allison Barclay," Connie replied. "She's nice. She came from the Pittsburgh D.A.'s office. Apparently the D.A. there is a complete prick, and she got tired of it. Can't say I blame her. She said his name's Donald something."
"Donald Skaggs," said Mike. "He was one of my law professors. Small world, right? 'Prick' is definitely the right word…But there's someone who makes even him look decent. I know you know who I'm talking about. With him, the word 'prick' is entirely too generous…God, it pissed me off when I found out what he did to you. The son-of-a-bitch sounded proud of himself, too. To him, you were just another conquest," he added, shaking his head in disgust.
"It means a lot to me that you felt that way on my behalf," Connie said sincerely. "The bastard loved and left me, was all too happy to bring it up, and there he was on trial for murder. I may have thrown myself under the bus so we could nail him, but I would've been damned if he was actually going to take me down with him."
"I wasn't about to let that happen," Mike said with strong conviction, looking her directly in the eyes.
"I know that," Connie said, returning his gaze and giving his hand a squeeze. "Just…prosecuting him…watching you put him in his place…The moral of the story is, Karma's a bitch. I definitely feel vindicated."
"That's all I wanted," Mike said. "It's all right," he added, seeing Connie's flattered expression. "You don't have to say anything."
"I…I also got the feeling that that trial was your way of continuing to make amends for using me to try to influence a jury," Connie finally said.
"It was," Mike confessed.
"But then, as if it wasn't personal enough, the bastard had to try to get under your skin, as well—saying he knew how you feel about me…"
"I tried not to let him see that he'd gotten to me—but I failed…"
"Well, he may have won that battle, but he lost the war."
"Connie, how long have you known how I feel? Since I made a complete ass of myself by using you to influence a jury?"
"Longer than that. I know you tried to be secretive, but we both know you weren't always successful. There were a lot of times when we were working in the office, and you'd steal glances at me, thinking I wouldn't notice. And I could tell by the way you would sometimes look at me when we were working outside of the office…Then I thought back to the day we met…and I realized that you've been attracted to me since then. I've known for a really long time—way before you ever let anything slip."
"God, I still can't believe I ever did. It didn't even occur to me how uncomfortable I probably made you until after I'd already spoken. I'm so sorry…I swear, if anyone knows how to embarrass himself, it's me…And you're so patient and level-headed. If I were you, I would've gone off on me plenty of times by now."
"You know you never bothered me—and that if you had, I would've let you know," Connie said.
"Yeah," Mike said. He paused for a moment, then said, "Connie, when did you…you know…"
"Start reciprocating?" Connie finished his sentence. "Mike, I've always been attracted to you. In fact, when we first met, I thought, 'This isn't good'."
Mike's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"Really? Wow…I—I had no idea…You have the best poker face of anyone I've ever met," he said.
"Yeah," Connie said, swallowing a bite of steak. "I've basically mastered the poker face."
"What do you mean by 'this isn't good'? Just because you don't do office relationships?"
Connie sighed.
"Partly," she answered. "What you have to understand is that the whole fiasco with Woll is the most humiliating thing I've ever been through. I had it so bad for that man, I really did. He meant a lot to me. I let my guard down, I trusted him, and what happened? It turned out the son-of-a-bitch only wanted sex. That left me feeling like the biggest idiot. After that, I just swore it off—all of it. Not just office relationships—all relationships. I just didn't see the point anymore. I thought whatever luck I had in love was gone. I was just that afraid of getting hurt again. Then I met you—and it didn't take long at all for me to become attracted to you, but I denied it and tried to fight my feelings.
"And to be honest, Mike, when the jury debacle happened…it made me wonder whether you were just like Woll, and I tried even harder to make my feelings go away. I felt used. To a far lesser degree than with Woll—but still used. But like I said, you apologized, and you were sincere, and I was able to forgive you.
"And again, at trial, I could just tell you were hell-bent on convicting him because of me. Just watching you…I realized you were working harder than I'd ever seen you work on a case, which is saying something because you're always dedicated…Once I figured that out, I was so moved. It still means more to me than you know. Once I figured that out, I knew I could completely trust you again. And that was when I knew it was all right to feel the way I feel about you…Mike—I really do love you, but I want us to take this slowly."
"Whatever you need," Mike said sweetly. "I never thought you could feel the same," he continued. "You're so far out of my league."
"Mike, the only person who decides who's good enough for me is me." Seeing his expression, she used his words: "It's all right. You don't have to say anything."
They looked at each other for a moment.
"So tell me about your ADA," said Connie.
"Doug Washburn—seems like a good enough guy and a pretty good attorney. Doubt he's as good as you are, though," Mike answered with a smile.
Connie smiled.
"I already miss working with you, Connie," Mike went on. "Not just because you're such a talented attorney. There are just…things about you that I miss. I miss that look you give me whenever I say something stupid. I miss the way you smile when you're happy about how a case is going…I miss your smile, period…And the expression on your face when you're concentrating…Your passion and dedication with every case…How you're able to talk me down and keep me in check…The sound of your shoes against the linoleum when you walk down the hallway…Sharing food…"
"There are things I miss about you, too," said Connie. "I enjoy working with Allison, but she's not you. Yeah, we had our differences at times, but we really do make a great team. I miss your passion and dedication, Mike. I miss the way you steal glances at me…I even miss you arguing with Jack!" she added, chuckling at herself.
"Really?" Mike asked, as amused as she was.
"Yeah—I didn't think I would, but I definitely do! I miss the way you relax after a day in court—loosening your tie and rolling your sleeves up," Connie said. She took a sip of champagne, swallowed, and then said, "But mostly, I miss your smile and your baseball-related nervous habits. The sound of a baseball lightly hitting a mitt—I got used to it. I found it comforting in its own way…"
They exchanged smiles and then continued to eat.
"And speaking of sharing food," Connie spoke up. "Allison and I ordered Chinese yesterday, and what I'm about to tell you will shock you."
"What?"
"She doesn't like steamed dumplings," Connie said, referring to her and Mike's tradition of always splitting an order of steamed dumplings whenever they worked late in the evening and ordered Chinese. "So now I have half an order of steamed dumplings in my fridge. All the more for me, I guess. I'm not used to that, either," she added with a smile.
"You're luckier than me. Washburn doesn't even like Chinese," said Mike. "That's what I had Wednesday—minus steamed dumplings, by the way, because it was just me. He ordered a pizza…And yesterday, I fucked up his coffee order for the second time."
"Second time?" Connie asked in mock seriousness, one eyebrow raised. "You suffering from memory loss?" she joked.
"Maybe," said Mike. "It might run in my family—I don't remember," he joked, smiling.
Connie laughed.
"That was good!"
"That's another thing about you I miss—hearing you laugh," said Mike.
Their eyes met for a moment, and then Connie said jokingly, "So you messed up poor Doug's coffee order?"
"Yeah. On Tuesday, we weren't due in court until the afternoon, so I went to Starbucks for us. So he tells me what he wants, and I go and come back. He takes a drink of his and looks at me like I'm insane and asks me what I got him. I said, 'A grande coffee with skim milk, Splenda, and a shot of espresso' and then 'shit' because I'd just realized that that's exactly how you like your coffee. Then yesterday was similar. We aren't due in court until the afternoon, I go to Starbucks and fuck up his order. This time, I accidentally got him a grande iced coffee with caramel—obviously what you get every Friday," Mike said. "Habit, I guess. I just…went on auto-pilot," he added, smiling and shrugging.
Connie found this very endearing.
"Well, if I didn't know any better, Michael, I'd say you miss me," she joked.
"And I'd say you're right," Mike said.
They exchanged smiles again and more silence came as they ate some more.
"Hey, we're done with the O'Donnell case," Mike said.
"Oh good, I know that one was particularly stressful," Connie said. "What happened?"
"I pled it out," Mike replied. "Man one, fifteen to twenty."
"That's what I would've done," Connie said, liking the fact that they had this idea in common.
"I know," Mike said sweetly. "That's why I did it. I wanted to go to trial, but you know what? I could just picture you telling me to plead it out—telling me I was never going to get a jury to convict on murder two, that I needed to go down to man one—so that's what I did…It's like you've become part of my conscience, Connie. I don't really know how else to describe it…I need to get used to not working with you."
Connie smiled and took his hand.
"What about the alternative to working with me?"
Smiling, Mike gently held her hand.
"I like it much better."