McCoy walked back into his office. He replayed the events of the last few minutes in his head, still not quite sure what to make of what he'd heard.

"No and that's final!"

Rubirosa's words could have meant a thousand different things. But, after working with the young ADA for the better part of a year, McCoy felt protective of her. He knew she had a rough edge. He also knew, Rubirosa used that sharp tongue to hide her own insecurities, as well as a defensive device against the men she worked with.

McCoy smiled as he thought of the first time she'd used the tactic with him. He'd started to tell her about a case related to the one they were working at the time, only to be unceremonously shot down by his new assistant curtly declaring her dislike of what she deemed 'war stories'.

At the time, he'd been taken aback by the seemingly impolite response to a simple story that, in his mind, had been a story completely on point. An equally nasty response, involving the wisdom of listening to someone who had the power to hire as well as fire, had been on the tip of his tongue when he caught something in her eyes that made him smile instead.

McCoy saw the remark for what it was when he recongized the look in her eyes as the same one he'd seen in his daughter's eyes everytime she wanted to try to get the upper hand with him...to hold her own with a man whose life experience was not only more extensive than her own...but intmidating to her as well.

McCoy suddenly realized how young his new assistant truly was and how daunting it might be for her to be regularly be expected to go toe to toe with the man old timers in the Public Defender's office still referred to as 'Hang 'Em High McCoy'.

And of course, there was that other reputation he'd been saddled with.

After his affair with Claire Kincaid, any woman that had been assigned to work him took a certain amount of flake around the office. Just being McCoy's 'girl' came with the assumption, by a group of narrow minded, petty, and gossipy staff members,that the woman in question would be just another of McCoy's conquests.

Ross had laughed it off. Carmichael's icy stare ensured the first time she'd was approached with such nonsense, would be the last. Southerlyn had fun with it. The lesbian made a point of taking McCoy's arm when they got off the elevator or giving her boss a causal hand on the shoulder and then betting McCoy on how long it would be before the next rumor started. Sadly, Borgia was gone before it became an issue.

Rubirosa though…Rubirosa was an old fashioned girl with old fashioned morals and traditional dreams of a husband and children. Beneath the tough facade was a tender heart and McCoy knew it. If Mike Cutter hadn't the brains to figure out his assistant wasn't one night stand material, McCoy would have no problem sending him the message in no uncertain terms.

"A church wedding," said the woman who was gazing out his office window at the evening skyline. "Gee Jack, looks like you better get it right this time."

McCoy closed the door behind him before joining the statuesque blonde beside the window.

"Listen, it's been so long since I've been in a church, I'll be lucky if a bolt of lightning doesn't strike me dead the second I cross the thresh hold," he joked as he gave his ex wife a chaste kiss on the cheek. "You've heard from our child, I take it?"

"That's why I'm here," Elizabeth Donnelly replied, as she handed her former husband the plain white envelope in her hand. "I've never heard our daughter so stunned, yet so happy, at the same time."

McCoy looked thoughtfully at the envelope, then inquiringly at Donnelly. As their eyes met, he couldn't help but notice while the hair was shorter, the make up more skillfully applied, and the attire more expensive, the years had very little effect on the beauty and pose of the assistant he had married so many years before.

"Now don't tell me just because I'm getting married again, you've decided to ask for alimony, after all these years?"

"If it was your money I was after, I'd of had that long ago," she with the evil grin that attorney's on both sides of the aisle had come to dread. "This is a little something from the both of us. Becky tells me this is going to be an even bigger whirlwind than Danielle's wedding. You're really doing a turnaround trip over the weekend? No reception? No honeymoon?"

"Can't be helped," he explained with a sigh. "Brooke can't afford to be out of the office right now anymore than I can and neither of us wants to wait on the ceremony."

Donnelly's grin grew wider as she listened to a story that was amusingly familiar. It had taken three tries before her own marriage to Jack McCoy had become a reality. Even on the final try the weather, as well as last minute complications in the courtroom, had put a successful exchanging of vows in jeopardy.

"Did it ever cross your mind that may be you were just never meant to never marry? That maybe you were meant to live the life of a monk?"

"Now where did that bit of wisdom come from?"

"It comes from having known you long enough to see a pattern and if you want to pretend you don't know what I mean, think about what our wedding day and the term 'contempt of court' a have in common."

"Point taken," he replied with a chuckle, as he recalled the run in he had in Judge Nathan Marx's courtroom that landed him in a cell, just hours before he was scheduled to take his vows with Donnelly. "But this time, I will be safely at the back of the court room. No danger in getting myself slapped with a contempt charge in the Manning/Steele case."

"Unless the jury lets you down and you open your big mouth before the lead prosecutor has a chance to stop you," Donnelly countered smoothly as she gave her ex-husband a knowing look.

"I don't know what it is that you think you know Liz," McCoy began defensively, as he shifted his eyes from the gaze he knew only too well, "but I can assure you as DA- "

"Oh, save it for the press," Donnelly shot back while she leaned against the window sill, "or for one of the ADA's that hasn't been around as long as I have. You and I both know whose running that case, even if Mike Cutter's listed as the attorney of record. The idea of trying those two together has your name written all over it."

"You're saying you'd have done things differently?"

"I'm saying, if you're not careful, not only with the opposition have enough facts to twist by election time to make you look like an ineffective as a DA who thinks he's still a prosecutor; but you're going to alienate your senior staff to the point you won't have a senior staff."

McCoy's jaw started to drop before he caught himself. His eyes narrowed as a familiar scowl replaced his look of confusion.

"If Casey Novak is still upset about the chewing out she so richly deserved a few weeks ago-"

"I'm the last person Casey would run to over a falling out with you," she countered bluntly. "First of all, she knows you're my ex-husband. Secondly, she knows I'd have given her the same lecture, if I'd still been bureau chief. She knows better than to jump to the other side of the aisle, no matter how deserving the defendant seems. The only reason I know about what she did during the Picard case is that I happened to be coming out of my chambers at the same time Walter Bradley was. He was so shocked about what had happened in his own courtroom that he let it slip Casey had all but handed the defendant a 730 exam."

McCoy nodded. He could still remember the look of stunned hurt that had crossed the SVU ADA's face as he reprimanded her for her actions in a case against an emotionally disturbed child rapist, several weeks before. While he had understood her motives in trying to help the obviously delusional Picard get the mental health treatment he needed, McCoy knew he had no choice but to sternly keep the young prosecutor focused on the goal of the DA's office: Prosecution not rehabilitation.

"Well, if we're not talking about Novak, then…?"

Donnelly walked passed him and opened the bottom desk drawer. McCoy sat on the edge of his desk and watched as his ex-wife removed a bottle of scotch from the drawer, along with two glasses, and began pouring.

"Listen, Jack," she began,, after handing him one of the two glasses as she sat back in his desk chair. "I still see enough ADA's to know everyone was not only relieved when Arthur chose you to replace him as DA instead of some career politician, they were thrilled. Especially the senior staff, who have already seen their share of career politicians go after the job."

"But?'

Donnelly sighed as she took a long swallow of her drink. She knew all too well how uncomfortable Jack McCoy was sitting in the deceptively comfortable leather high back behind the DA's desk. It was a chair Donnelly herself had coveted since her early years in the DA's office. Although McCoy hadn't discussed the job at length with her, Donnelly suspected the maintain reason he had accepted it was to shield the office from another interoffice upset; like the one that had occurred when academic Nora Lewin handed the reins to DA Arthur Branch, a man with clearly stated political ambition.

She knew too well how much McCoy despised the mixture of politics and prosecuting. She also knew for him to keep his hand in the game, he'd have to find a way to live with balancing the two.

McCoy set the envelope that had been in his hand onto the desk and leaned over to gently remove the glass from Donnelly's hand.

"You look awfully cozy sitting in that chair," he said solemnly. "If it hadn't been for Becky, we both know you'd be the one with her name on the door."

"I'll settle for my judgeship, thank you very much," she replied indifferently, as she propped her legs up on the desk and gave him a wide grin. "Wouldn't your father rollover in his grave if he could see us now?"

"Don't try to change the subject," he said with a chuckle as he turned his eyes away from the long, well toned legs that had always served as a pleasant distractor to him. "You think I'm hovering, don't you?"

"Smothering is a word I've heard used to describe what you're doing. And I've heard it more than once," she admitted, as she took her drink out of his hand. "Jack, everyone knows the courtroom is like a second home to you. But, you knew when you accepted the appointment; you'd have to make some changes. You can't use your senior staff to vicariously try cases."

"That's what I'm doing?"

"That's what you're doing. I saw you myself. Last week in my own courtroom when you slipped in during Novak's cross-"

"It was a tough cross-," he began defensively.

"Yes it was, which is exactly why Novak didn't need to turn around and see her boss watching every move she made."

"Part of my job is-"

"…knowing when to back off and let your staff do their jobs," she said urgently as she lowered her legs and pushed the chair close enough for her to take his hands in hers. "Jack, you have good people working under you. You and Ron Carver started out on the Executive board together. Grafferty was trained by Tracey Kibre and Novak," Donnelly said with a wicked grin. "I dare you to sit there and tell me you have any doubts about Casey's ability's as a prosecutor after the number of years she was under my direction."

"Do I look like I have a death wish," he retorted with a hearty laugh. "Novak's record speaks for itself."

"And so does everybody else's. This auditing crosses and closings like you're the sentinel for truth and justice makes people nervous. They think, you think they aren't doing their jobs right. I know you miss the courtroom, but you have to remember what you are and what you aren't. Being DA means you let the lead prosecutor run the cases from start to finish, you have the bigger job of making sure city hall stays out of their way."

McCoy stared down at the hands that felt so reassuring in his. Hands that had lovingly bathed their only child. Hands that had rubbed the weariness from his shoulders more times than he could count. Hands that that felt so warm, so soft, that he'd woken up more times than he could count aching to feel the touch of them once more, long after the couple had divorced.

"Becky tells me you're still seeing Captain Cragen," he began, as he gave her hands a quick squeeze and an even quicker kiss.

"Yes, Jack and before you start, I want a promise."

"I wasn't going to 'start'. I was just being-"

"…evasive," she added with a smirk. "Do I need to remind you that one: You're not my father. Two: Don has been a recovering alcoholic for more than a decade. Three: We were talking about you, not my social life?"

"I'm compulsive, not forgetful,"he countered defensively.

"Promise me you'll give your staff some space, starting with the Manning/Steele closing."

McCoy's eyes widened as the pieces began to fall into place. The DA knew his former assistant and his former wife had become fast friends the year Connie Rubirosa became his assistant. He also knew Rubirosa had had a motion hearing in the juvenile division the week before; the same division Judge Elizabeth Donnelly presided in.

"Liz, I've already had Anita Van Buren in here twice over this case," he said with a sigh. "She's afraid if the verdict goes south we'll have a riot the like this city hasn't seen since 911. I'm sure Connie's told you Cutter's an excellent litigator's. What she hasn't told you is he's implusive. He rides the line as if it were – "

"Humm humm," she said knowingly as she raised an eyebrow. "He's a maverick. He plays to win…gee Jack… I can see why you think you have to watch the guy like a hawk. Mike Cutter is only a carbon copy of you. Just exchange a woman on your arm, for the Blackberry in his hand and you've got Jack McCoy thirty years ago!"

"There are so many flaws in that statements I don't even know where to begin to tear it apart," McCoy sputtered.

"Name one."

"I'd only been out of law school six months, thirty years ago."

Donnelly stood her head and she clicked her tongue.

"Leaving middle age kicking and screaming, are we? Fine. He's you a mere twenty years ago," she countered with a chuckle. "Face it Jack. Mike Cutter makes you face your own mortality. That's the real problem here, not the way the man runs a case."

"You and I both know what will happen if that jury comes back with an acquittal for Gretchen Steele and fifteen to live for Manning."

"I do and that's why you and Van Buren better be in that courtroom when the verdict read. Van Buren's with her cell phone on speed dial to alert the Police Commission of the outcome; yours on speed dial to alert the mayor in case he needs to seal off the city," she said with sudden seriousness. "But under no circumstances should you be in that courtroom during closing arguments."

McCoy considered her words as he picked up the envelope and thoughtfully tapped it against the corner of the desk.

"I'll take your opinion under advisement," he said with a wink.

"Don't make me call the presiding judge and have you banned from the courtroom," she countered as she stood, her face only a few inches from his.

McCoy met her frosty gaze and began to chuckle at the look of stubborn defiance on her unsmiling face.

"I always found you especially sexy when you tried to intimidate me."

"Funny, I always found it easiest to resist you when you were arrogant," she said dispassionately, as she moved even closer than before and reached up to button the top button of his shirt.

"Hey, you know I can't breath – "

"Poor baby. You're DA now. You need to look the part," she said as she straightened his tie. "Besides, if you don't make that promise in the next thirty seconds, it won't be your tie that's keeping you from breathing."

"Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I'll stay out of the damned courtroom during Mike's closing," he said with feigned gruffness, as he reached towards his neck. "Happy now?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"What more do you want?"

"Are you going to play with it or open it?"

"What?"

"That," Donnelly said as she pointed accusingly at the envelope in his hand.

"Is it set to explode if you don't get your way," he said as he loosened his tie.

"Open it and find out."

"I thought this was for Brooke and myself. Shouldn't I open when I see her tonight?"

Donnelly shook her head and smiled.

"Actually, I'd rather you opened it just in case Becky and I over stepped. When she told me you two hadn't planned on a honeymoon I did a little research," she explained with uncharacteristic nervousness as he opened the envelope. "Given everything you two have been through, it just doesn't seem right that you two won't have any time to yourselves. I remembered Becky telling me about the fishing trip the three of you took so…"

"Oh Liz, this is great," McCoy said as he reached to hug her. "Brooke will love it. A weekend in the Fly Fishing capital of the world?"

"Now when you say it like, that it sounds like the most unromantic place in the world," Donnelly said impatiently as she pushed him away and took the brochure from his hand. "We booked you two the cabin closest to the lake and it has a fire place. It's a little rustic, I know, but Becky said you all had such a great time when you three when fly fishing last summer…"

"Liz, it's wonderful," he said as he gave her another hug. "Wonderful and very thoughtful. I know Brooke will be touched."

"Well if she's not, just call the travel agent and you can exchange it for another package, "she said candidly.

When her daughter had suggested the two of them planning a surprise getaway for McCoy and his soon to be new wife, the irony of the ex wife planning the current wife's honeymoon had not been lost on the first Mrs. McCoy.

"I'll keep that in mind, but I doubt it will be a problem. Especially when Brooke's finds out Becky had a hand in planning it. You know, in spite of that whole scene at Danielle's wedding, Brooke has a real soft spot for our daughter."

"Well you know it goes both ways," Donnelly said with a sigh. "I can't think of anyone else that who have gotten away with slapping Rebecca and not receiving a punch in the nose for her trouble. The nice thing about this place is Roscoe is less than three hours from Manhattan, so you won't spend half day on the highway. We booked you for the next three day weekend, which is Memorial Day so …"

"You always were a great organizer. When your turn comes, don't think I won't return the favor."

Donnelly could feel the rush of heat on her cheeks as she looked away, pretending to look for her purse. In the time that she and the SVU commander had been seeing each other, Donnelly had begun to feel things she hadn't even thought about since her divorce from Jack McCoy.

"Listen, it's almost eight," she said as she grabbed the handbag off the chair nearest the door. "I was supposed to meet Jamie Ross at Clancy's fifteen minutes ago. Call me when you two get back and Don and I can take you both out to celebrate."

"Let me walk you to the elevator," he said as he followed her through the doorway. As he fell into step with her, McCoy took a causal glance at the office across from him and suddenly stopped. "You said it's almost eight?"

"It's 7:48 exactly," Donnelly replied as she followed his gaze towards Mike Cutter's deserted office. "Now Jack, remember your promised…"

"I promised not to show up in court," he retorted. "I didn't promise to sit back and let Cutter give an impromptu closing three days from now."