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"Are you following me?"

"Oh please," Lennie said, "I've got better things to do with my time than stalk a former Executive Assistant District Attorney. Lemonade for me and whatever he's having," he instructed the waitress.

Ben felt himself wince slightly at the word former. It was hard to separate yourself from something that had been part of you for so long and, in so many ways, the job had defined him. Without it, what was he? A sad, pathetic, fifty-something sitting in a bar looking at younger women.

"I was using the payphone across the street when I saw you come in here, so I thought I'd come and see if you were ok." The waitress reappeared with drinks and placed them hurriedly on the table before departing again. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he took a drink, hoping that the other man wouldn't see the truth in his expression. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm great," Lennie replied sarcastically. "I'm trying not to think about the wonderful weekend vacation Mike's enjoying in Connecticut whilst I'm stuck here in the city writing up witness statements."

"He's on vacation with Liz?" Ben asked, thinking suddenly about her. Attractive, professional, poised...he couldn't help but briefly wonder what she saw in Logan. They were so different, from entirely different worlds. What could they possibly have to talk about?

"Who else? They're practically joined at the groin."

Well, that answers that question.

Lennie looked around their surroundings. "So, is this the kind of place you come to often?"

"Are you trying to pick me up?" he joked.

"Don't flatter yourself. No offence, but I like them a little more feminine."

"I like it here," Ben followed his gaze to where the piano player was being joined back on stage by the saxophonist. "I like the music, the anonymity...I used to come here a lot in the past."

"Why did you stop?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess it wasn't giving me what I wanted."

"Which was?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

"I'm a detective, what do you expect?" Lennie drained his glass. "I have to say that, personally, I prefer somewhere a little brighter, you know, with maybe some televisions on the wall showing sports?"

Ben laughed, "I don't mind those kind of places either."

"I guess it's easier to mentally undress waitresses somewhere like this though, right?"

"I was not mentally undressing her," he replied, feeling somewhat indignant at the insinuation. "I was only..."

"Looking?"

"It's not a crime, is it? Or are you about to tell me they passed a new law in the week since I left office?"

"No, not that I know of." Lennie paused. "Seeing as you mentioned it, you want to tell me why you, all of a sudden, decided to up sticks and give up your career?"

"I did not give up my career!" Ben snapped, his mother's words coming back to him. "I decided to do something different, that's all. It's hardly unusual."

"Come on counsellor, you've been doing the same job for the last twenty years. You've seen cases come and seen them go. You've seen murderers, rapists and the like be convicted and seen them walk free. You're telling me that, one day, you just decided you'd had enough and wanted to do something different?"

Ben stared down into his glass, "Something like that."

Lennie signalled the waitress and ordered another round. "If you're torturing yourself over what happened to Ann Madsen..."

"It has nothing to do with her."

"Oh really? You know that it wasn't your fault..."

"I really don't want to talk about it." He had been able to think about little else since leaving Sleepy Hollow that afternoon. The anger, the devastation, the injustice...it didn't matter how many times people said it, or even how many times he tried to tell himself, he still felt the weight of blame on his shoulders.

"Ok, let's talk about something else then. How are your kids?"

"They're great, thanks," Ben replied, brightening slightly as he thought about them. "They both seem to have settled well into their new school, they've made friends...Peter's still playing baseball and Pamela appears to have discovered a flair for drawing that none of us knew she had."

"That's great. Peter's sixteen now, right?" Ben nodded. "Is he thinking about playing pro-ball?"

"He's considering it, but he also seems to be interested in the law."

"Like father like son?"

"Something like that." He couldn't help but smile at the waitress this time upon her return and she tentatively smiled back before shooting Lennie a look and hurrying off again. "Pamela's determined that she wants to study fine art at college."

"I hope you've disavowed her of the notion that she'll ever make any money as an artist."

"She's only thirteen, I'm sure she might change her mind but, if it makes her happy...my mother's in town this week and Pam's insisted that they go to the Met at least once before she goes back to Michigan."

"That must be nice," Lennie said, "having your mother to visit. I mean, if it were mine I'd want to run a mile but..."

"Yeah, I guess it is. I haven't seen her in a while and it's been even longer for the kids. It's nice for her to be able to spend some time with them too."

"How's Evelyn getting on in London?"

The sudden shift in topic made Ben pause and he felt his stomach turn over just at the mention of her name. He looked across the room to where the waitress was serving another table. "I wouldn't know."

"She hasn't called?"

"No," he lied. Not unless you count the hang ups.

"You haven't called her?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

He tore his gaze away from the waitress and looked at his companion. "She made her feelings pretty clear before she left."

"What, she told you she didn't love you?"

"No..."

"Said she never wanted to see you again?"

"No, but..."

"So, you've just decided that the best thing to do is cut all contact?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Ben said, lifting his glass, aware that he was trotting out the same line Evelyn had used so often when talking about her feelings towards Edward and suddenly realising how useful it was as a tool of deflection. "She's...living a new life now."

"I realise that, but does that mean that you can't at least be friends?"

"Friends?" he echoed, laughing mirthlessly, the effect of the alcohol starting to kick in. "I don't want to be her friend, Lennie, that's the problem." He tracked the waitress again as she crossed the room back to the bar. She had a nice figure, the tight black skirt and white blouse hugging her in all the right places. "Are you friends with any of your exes?"

"Ha! Friends? No."

"Well then..." he gestured to their empty glasses. "You want another one?"

"Are you kidding? I'll be pissing all night at this rate," Lennie got to his feet and pulled out his wallet, dropping some notes onto the table. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your place."

Ben lifted the money and held it out to him, "Keep your money."

"Forget it. I probably owe you for something."

"I don't need you to pay my bar bill."

"I'm paying mine too," he insisted. "Come on, let's go before you get yourself into trouble."

Ben got to his feet, feeling the room sway slightly. How many had he had, four or five? His capacity for liquor had certainly diminished over the years. In his younger day he could have drank twice that and still been standing. He glanced over towards the bar again where the waitress was watching him. "She's pretty," he observed.

"Yes, she is," Lennie said, taking his arm, "and not what you need right now, believe me. She's got trouble written all over her beautiful young face."

Somewhat reluctantly, Ben followed him to the door of the bar and made his way slowly up the steps back to the street, the light dim now as darkness prepared to fall. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after nine o'clock. He'd told Peter to be home by eleven. There were still almost two hours to kill. The night was, theoretically, still young.

"You want to hit a sports bar?" he turned to Lennie. "I feel I owe you for making you sit in there."

"You didn't make me do anything and, besides, you're going home," Lennie replied, propelling him in the right direction. "You've got two kids to take care of."

"Pam's at a sleepover and Peter's at the movies. He won't be home until later."

"Then you've got time to go home and have some coffee before he gets back and wonders what his old man's been up to." They started walking. "Believe me, Ben...alcohol isn't the answer when you feel like the world's unloading on you. I've been down that road time and time again. It doesn't solve anything."

"What do you think I am, an alcoholic?" he retorted. "This is the first time I've been out in months!"

"Maybe so, but what would you have done if I hadn't come along?"

"I don't know what you mean," he replied stubbornly.

"Yes you do. You would have got drunk and then done something stupid with that waitress. I know the pattern."

Ben said nothing, irked somewhat that the other man presumed to know him and yet somewhat comforted by the fact that he seemed to care enough to step in where he foresaw disaster. "How long have you been sober?" he asked, after a moment's silence.

"A good few years now," Lennie replied easily. "Not that it didn't take me a long time to get there. Once you've hit rock bottom, and hit it hard the only way is up. Trouble is, I liked bouncing around down there too much. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Nobody forced me. It was the job back then. Only most of the other guys knew when to give up and go home. No, I got myself into it and I got myself out of it. Not that there weren't casualties along the way."

"Of course," Ben said, metaphorically kicking himself. "I'm sorry, I should have asked after your daughters."

"Oh, they're both fine as far as I know. I don't hear from them much but, again, that's on me not them. You're lucky that you have such a close relationship with your two."

"Well, it wasn't always like that," Ben admitted, thinking back to the days, not that long ago, when weeks would go by without any contact.

"I know. Families, eh?" Lennie sighed. "They all come with all sorts of problems." He stopped walking. "This is you, right?"

Ben looked up and saw that it was indeed his building. "Yes it is. How did you even know I lived here?"

"I told you," Lennie smiled. "I'm a detective."

"Thanks for the drinks...and the advice."

"What advice? I just kept you from sticking your dick where it was liable to get chopped off." Ben blushed. "You want some real advice?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not really," Lennie replied. "Call Evelyn."

"Lennie..."

"Call her! I don't know, call me crazy, but I got the feeling the last time I saw her that she wasn't really as convinced about London as she would have had everybody believe."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, maybe she's just waiting for you to call her so that she can admit she made a mistake." He looked at him meaningfully. "Have a good weekend counsellor."

"You too," Ben replied, watching as the other man crossed the street and walked back the way they had come. When he let himself back into the apartment, he hesitated, caught between the lure of the drinks cabinet and the coffee machine.

He chose the latter.

London

For a moment, she wasn't sure what the noise was or where it was coming from. Through the fog of sleep, the high pitched whine permeated into her brain to the point of pain. Grabbing the pillow, she pulled it over her head, trying to block it out, only for it to continue and for her to eventually realise that it was the sound of the phone.

Forcing herself to open her eyes, she pulled herself across to the bedside table and reached for the receiver, knocking a thankfully empty glass off the side as she did so, and croaking out a greeting. "Hello?" There was a silence at the other end of the line. "Hello?"

She could hear the sound of heavy breathing and, for a moment, thought it was some sort of crank call, until she heard the sound of a female voice whispering. "Say something!"

"Who's there?" she asked. Again, there was a silence. "Ok, I'm hanging up now."

"Evelyn?"

She started suddenly, instantly recognising the voice. "Pamela?"

"I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Pamela..." Squinting at the clock on the table, she mentally counted back the hours. "It's after midnight in New York. Does your dad know you're calling?"

"No, I'm sleeping over at my friend Rachel's house."

"Well...how did you get this number?"

"We called the international operator."

"I see..." Evelyn flicked on the bedside light and blanched at the sudden pain in her head. "Are you ok?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" She felt her heart start to thud. "Has something happened?" Ben...please tell me it's not Ben...

"No, I just..." Pamela's voice cracked slightly. "I miss you."

A lump rose in her throat and she fought down the urge to start crying. "I miss you too. All of you."

"I don't think you're a selfish bitch, even if Peter does."

The memory of the words, spat at her as she had left the apartment that night, came back to her and she couldn't help but think that she had deserved them. "Well, he's probably right on some level."

"No, he isn't." Pamela paused. "Do you like London?"

Do I like London? What a loaded question. What the fuck do I say?

"It's...it's different."

"In what way?"

"Well, the weather isn't as good as it is back home and...they have different words for things and different money and...people drive on the left..." she fought for safe examples when all she really wanted to say was that it was far worse than she would ever have imagined it could be.

"Oh."

Evelyn paused. "You and Rachel really should be sleeping, you know, not making international phone calls."

"What time is it in London?"

She squinted at the clock again, "Five twenty."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"Oh...well, I guess I should go."

The lump rose in her throat again, "It was nice to hear your voice."

It was Pamela's turn to pause. "Can I call you again sometime?"

"Pam...I don't think that's a very good idea. It's expensive for one thing and...and your dad probably wouldn't like it if you called from the apartment."

"He doesn't have to know."

"He pays the phone bill," she found herself smiling at the young girl's naivety. "What are you going to do, deny all knowledge when he asks who's been calling London?"

"Well...can't you call me then? I can let you know when I might be home by myself and you could do it then."

"I don't think your dad would like that either."

"How do you know? You haven't even spoken to him! He's miserable here without you, I know he is!" Pamela's voice rose with each sentiment. "He loves you and he wants you to come back!"

"Pam..."

"So do I!"

"Pam, I'm going to hang up now, ok? This is going to be costing Rachel's parents a fortune."

"No, wait, don't go. I...I could call you from a payphone."

Evelyn sighed, realising it was perhaps better to acquiesce than continue the argument. "Ok fine. You can call me from a payphone sometime, but only if you have the money."

"Ok."

"Ok."

"I'd better go now. Bye Evelyn."

"Bye." The line clicked and the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Slowly, she replaced the receiver and then slumped back down in the bed, feeling wretched all over again. After leaving the apartment that night, she hadn't seen or spoken to either of the kids again and though she had wanted to ask Ben if she could say goodbye properly to them, she had been too afraid to raise it with him and he had never offered her the chance. But then, why would he have? It wasn't just his face she had been kicking sand in.

She thought back over Pamela's words. Was Ben miserable without her? She was certainly miserable without him and yet, it was all her own doing. She could hardly turn around now and say she had made a mistake. Besides, once he knew what she had been up to, he wouldn't want her anyway.

Pushing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and padded through to the living room. An empty wine bottle sat on the coffee table alongside the half empty one that she had started and been unable to finish. It probably had, maybe, a glass and a half still left in it and her eyes strayed to the empty glass on the kitchen counter.

Don't be so fucking ridiculous, she told herself. It's five-thirty in the morning. There's starting early and then there's...

She turned on the television, unwilling to even finish her own thought, only to be met by the frozen smile of the test card girl and her creepy doll staring out of the screen at it. Shuddering, she switched it off again and sat down on the couch, pulling a blanket around her and staring at the wine bottle.

New York

She looked nothing like you and yet...Lennie was probably right. If I had stayed there on my own and she had given any indication that she was willing...I don't know what I would have done. In the ten years since I separated from Laura you're only the second woman I've slept with and now you're gone and I found myself thinking about what it would be like to go to bed with someone else and I hate myself for having those thoughts because it feels like a betrayal.

I think about that night in your mother's apartment all the time. When I close my eyes, I see you lying there, looking up at me. I feel you underneath me...my hands on your body...

He broke off and tossed the notebook over the side of the bed, swiftly followed by the pen. Writing anything more made him feel almost sordid, even though it was all perfectly natural. It was strange how a person could learn to live without sex. After his divorce, it had been the last thing on his mind, consumed as he had been with work, and so when he had met Stephanie, in that bar, sleeping with her hadn't even registered. He had enjoyed her company more than anything else after four years of barely speaking to a woman outside of work and when they had, inevitably, ended up in bed, it had almost come as somewhat of a surprise to him.

It certainly hadn't been a surprise when it had ended, neither of them keen for anything long term, and the following six years of celibacy had passed without any great feelings of loss or missed opportunities.

But now...

He rolled over and looked at the clock. It would be almost six am in London. Saturday morning. He imagined her in bed, sleeping peacefully, looking for all the world the way she had the last time she had been in his bed...the last Saturday morning they had spent together when things had still been good.

His mother was coming over for brunch and then Pamela wanted to go to the Met. Peter had made noises about staying home but Ben knew it was probably better to try and convince him to go with them. Family time was so important, even though there was someone missing.

Call her...he could hear Lennie's voice in his head...call me crazy, but I got the feeling the last time I saw her that she wasn't really as convinced about London as she would have had everybody believe.

What did he even mean by that? She couldn't have been more convinced about it if she tried, at least in any conversation they had had about it.

Maybe he should call her. It wouldn't hurt just to check that she was ok and that things in London were working out for her. Or maybe it would hurt. Maybe it would hurt like hell and he would instantly wish he hadn't done it.

He felt his eyes grow heavy as sleep pulled him in.

He would decide in the morning.