Enjoy :)
London
"So...I just got off the phone with Ben."
Evelyn looked up as Sarah came into her office, her stomach turning over just at the mention of his name. The guilt she had felt since the previous weekend, magnified tenfold by the fact she couldn't remember exactly what she had done, had been crippling and every evening since, wine had been her solace. She had been late to work twice already that week, but her cousin appeared to have simply let it go. "Oh?"
"Yeah. He said he's called a bunch of times but you've never called him back."
How can I talk to him? How can I hear his voice? I can't...
"I've been busy."
"That's what I told him," she sat down in the chair opposite. "But why don't you tell me the real reason."
"That is the real reason."
"So it's not because you've been..."
"Because I've been what, Sarah?" she snapped. "Sleeping around? Is that what you wanted to say? You've never been backwards about coming forwards so just say what you mean."
"That wasn't what I was going to say actually," Sarah replied. "I was going to say that maybe you didn't want to talk to him because of Alex." She paused. "Sounds like you've got a guilty conscience though."
"What would you know about it?"
"Nothing, clearly."
Evelyn ran her hands over her face, "You have no idea what I'm going through right now. You just don't understand..."
"Then tell me. Help me to understand. Maybe I can help."
"How? By telling me to go out and 'have fun'? That kind of help?"
Sarah's face darkened, "I never told you to go out and sleep with random men, Evelyn, and you know that. You've never been like that. You've never been a..."
"A what? A slut?"
"That wasn't..."
"Don't worry, I know what I am." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I don't need you to tell me. You think I didn't feel ashamed swallowing that pill? You think I didn't feel like shit going to that clinic? I'm forty-one years old for Christ's sake. That nurse looked at me like I was some sort of idiot!"
"I'm sure that she didn't..."
"She did!" Her eyes started to blur. "She did and I...I wanted to say something really ultra-feminist about it like...like 'if I want to use my body for pleasure then I will.' But I couldn't. I couldn't because...because I have hated it every single time..."
Sarah leaned forward in her chair. "Then I don't understand. Why are you...?"
"Because I want to feel something! Because I want to pretend that every one of them is him! Because I miss him so much..." she dissolved into tears before she could stop herself, hearing the click of the door as Sarah closed it and then felt her arm around her shoulder. "I've made such a mess of everything, Sarah...such a fucking mess..."
"Ok...ok, I get that. I get that you miss him..."
"I love him..."
"I know." Sarah's arm tightened around her then she drew back and crouched next to her chair. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" Evelyn shrugged. "Jesus, I wouldn't have told you to sleep with Alex if I'd known this was how you felt. But I thought that you were struggling to deal with Edward and his kid and that Ben was stifling you. That was certainly the impression you gave me. That's why I asked you to come here. That's why I told you to let loose. I just thought that you needed a bit of fun for a change. I thought you needed to be carefree."
"Carefree..." Evelyn mocked. "That's a fucking joke. Do I look like I'm fucking carefree?"
"No, you don't." Sarah sighed. "When are you due your results back?"
"Tomorrow, but I doubt they'll show anything. I know I've been an idiot but I really have been careful." She wiped her eyes furiously, her fingers darkening with mascara. "God, he would be so ashamed of me..."
"Who?"
"Ben! If he only knew..." she put her head in her hands. "Even if he still cared anything for me, which I doubt, he would hate me if he knew what I'd been doing."
"I don't think that man could ever hate you. I've seen the way he looks at you, remember? Not to mention the fact he wanted to organise a surprise wedding for you." She paused again. "The other men...is that why you've been avoiding his calls?"
"Well...that and..."
"And what?"
She lifted her head and let out a shuddering breath. "Pamela called me, two weeks ago."
"His daughter?"
Evelyn nodded. "She woke me up, it was like...five in the morning and, well, long story short I told her that she could call me again sometime if she wanted to. So, she called me the following day and..."
"And...?"
"And I barely remember the call."
Sarah frowned, "Why? What were you doing?"
"I was drunk."
"Ah..."
"I know that I upset her and no doubt she told Ben about it and that's why he's been calling. So he can berate me for it and I don't blame him, really I don't. I just..." she shook her head. "I just don't think that I could take it on top of everything else right now."
"Oh Evelyn..." Sarah sighed, hugging her awkwardly again. "I'm so sorry that you feel like this, I really am. What can I do to help?"
"Nothing," she replied brokenly. "There's nothing that anybody can do. The only person who can deal with it is me."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"I don't know," she sighed heavily. "I really don't know."
New York
It was strange walking into One Hogan Place as a regular civilian rather than as a member of staff. Signing in and receiving a visitors pass felt alien somehow, even though Chris the security guard, greeted him as he always had done, as if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
He took the elevator up to the sixth floor and suddenly wondered if there was a way to get to Jack office bypassing his own. He didn't know if they had filled his post yet or not, and though it had been his decision to leave, he wasn't sure he really wanted to see anyone else sitting in what had once been his chair.
"Mr Stone!" Celia greeted him warmly as he stepped off the elevator. "It's good to see you!"
"You too. I'm here to see Mr McCoy," he said, lest she wanted to engage him in general conversation. "Do you happen to know if he's in his office?"
"He and Ms Kincaid are in the conference room," she said, gesturing around the corner. "They did tell me to keep an eye out for you."
"Thanks."
"Stop by before you leave!" she urged, as he turned away from her.
"Ok," he replied, though he wasn't convinced he would follow through. He made his way around the corner, passing people that he had seen every day for years, some who smiled and greeted him and others who lowered their eyes. It was a strange feeling. He knew why he had left. He knew how responsible he felt for what had happened, but it was odd to think that others did too.
"Ben, good of you to come down," Jack got to his feet when he knocked on and then opened the conference room door.
"I could hardly not come down," he replied, taking a seat at the table and smiling at Claire. "I'm glad that you called. How much do you know?"
Jack smiled, "What about a 'how are you' first from me to you?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
"How have things been since you left?"
"Ok," he said, wishing they could just get down to business but polite enough not to insist upon it. "It's been good spending more time with the kids and I've accepted an offer to lecture at Columbia."
"That's great!" Claire enthused. "Sounds like just your thing."
His mind flitted briefly back to what Shambala had said at the reception and wondered, for a moment, if Claire was thinking the same thing, but her expression was genuine and he elected to give her the benefit of the doubt. "I don't start until September, but I'm looking forward to it." He looked meaningfully at Jack.
"So...Ralph McQueen," Jack said, picking up on his eagerness. "Like I said on the phone, he's got a yellow sheet stretching back a good few years now and he's looking at spending the next three to five in jail for his latest foray into criminal activity..."
"Who picked him up?" Ben interrupted.
"Two cops from the 19th precinct. They took him in for booking and he started spilling his guts saying that he could name names regarding who shot the lawyer. Took the cops a while to figure out what he was referring to but, once they did, they contacted Briscoe and Logan and they called us."
"You said he used to work for O'Reilly?"
"Yes as a driver, but he says he was fired earlier this year for bad timekeeping." Ben raised his eyebrows. "I know it was my gut reaction too."
"Revenge?"
"Possibly, but right now I'm willing to consider all possibilities."
"He claims that, on the night of the shooting, he was asked, by a person yet to be named, to drive the assailants to Evelyn's apartment," Claire said. "He says that he wasn't told the purpose of the visit but that he was to drop them off, park around the corner and then wait for them to come back."
"So he can name them," Ben said.
Jack nodded, "But not only that...he claims that he got restless waiting around, so he got out of the car, went around the corner to try and see what was going on..."
"He actually witnessed it?"
"Yes."
"How do you know he's telling the truth?"
Jack and Claire exchanged glances. "He says that he saw the first assailant strike a man on the back of the head with the butt of a pistol before the second assailant shot the woman," the former said. "Now, although it was reported that you were also injured in the attack, there was no mention of how. So we're inclined to believe him."
"Out of interest," Claire said. "Do you remember seeing anyone else on the street that night?"
Ben shook his head. "Until they hit me, I had no idea there were even two people there. All I was focused on at the time was the man with the gun and protecting Evelyn." He paused, a shiver running through him at the memory of that night and how badly he had failed...again. "So, what does McQueen want?"
"Immunity for the burglary, plus witness protection if he names names," Jack said. "That isn't a problem, the burglary charge is fairly minor..."
"But?"
"Ben...this could put both you and Evelyn in a difficult position. If McQueen does name the people involved, and we pick them up, then we'll need you to see if you can identify them in a lineup and, if you can we may need you to testify and if there is a connection to the Lucchese family..."
He sat in silence for a long moment. Wasn't this exactly what he had thought a few weeks earlier when he had tried to rationalise his dealings with Ann Madsen to himself? The possibility of being confronted with exactly the same scenario in his own life?
How could he say no?
"I understand," he said finally. "Whatever you need, from me, I can do."
"Ok," Jack nodded slowly. "Um...obviously we'll need to update Evelyn. Do you want to tell her or would you prefer I do it."
Well she won't take my calls...
"It might be better coming from you," he said. "In an official capacity."
"Ok," Jack nodded. "I'll call her and as soon as we have relevant people in custody, I'll let you know."
"Thanks," Ben said, getting to his feet. "I appreciate it."
Maybe... he thought as he got back into the elevator, managing to avoid Celia, maybe hearing from Jack might spur her to call me. Maybe I can talk to her about all of this. Maybe I can tell her how much I miss her.
London
"There's a Jack McCoy on the phone for you."
"Jack McCoy?" Evelyn echoed.
"Yes," Lynnette, the receptionist replied. "He said he's calling from the Manhattan District Attorney's office, whatever that is."
Despite everything, Evelyn found herself trying to suppress a smile. Lynnette was new, no older than nineteen, and not exactly wordly wise on many things, least of all the US justice system. "Thanks, put him through." She waited for the line to click. "Jack?"
"Hi," he greeted her warmly. "How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you," she lied.
"How are you finding London?"
"Oh it's great, though I have to admit it's nice to hear from a fellow native. Sarah's accent is diminishing and I constantly have to repeat myself."
"Well you won't have to do that with me," he reassured her.
"Thank God." She listened as he explained the purpose of his call, butterflies moving around in her stomach as the enormity of what he was saying slowly sank in. "You think the information is good?"
"Well we won't know until he gives us names and the cops can investigate...but I'm hopeful. How do you feel about it?"
How do I feel...? What a question. I'd be a mother now if it wasn't for them.
Her hand slid to her stomach and she traced the scar through her blouse. "I think if we find out who did it then that has to be a good thing."
"You realise what I'm saying about identification though, right?"
These people...these people are dangerous...my life could be in danger, that's what you're saying...
"Yes, I understand. I guess we'll just have to...wait and see."
"Sure." He paused. "I obviously don't expect you to come all the way back for a lineup. My plan would be to contact your own local police station and have relevant photographs faxed over for you to look at. Would that be ok with you?"
"Of course."
"Ok then. Well, I just wanted to keep you up to speed. I talked to Ben about it earlier and he asked me to call."
"He asked you to call?" she seized on the information.
"Yeah, I figure he thought I would be less emotional about it than he would be."
"Yes...yes of course."
"Ok, well I guess I'll speak to you again soon. Give my love to the Queen won't you?"
"Sure," she said, as the line clicked off. "I will."
New York
It was just after six when the phone rang.
He had been changing in the bedroom, the kids lounging around in the living room waiting for dinner, so he shouted through that he would answer it and lifted the extension. "Hello?" There was a silence. "Hello?"
"Ben?"
He felt his heart slow, almost as if it was going to suddenly stop beating. It was the first time, the first time in weeks that he had heard her voice let alone heard her say his name. He sat down quickly on the bed.
"Evelyn?"
"Hi. I'm...I'm sorry, I'm guessing you might be at dinner but..."
"No...no not yet. It's...it's still cooking," he said, then felt ridiculous. "How are you?"
"Fine. You?"
"Ok." He paused, a million things running around in his head. The case, Pamela, how much he missed her...
"I got a call from Jack today," she said after a lengthy silence. "He said he spoke to you."
"Yes, yes he did. He told you about McQueen?"
"Yes. He seemed hopeful that his information might lead somewhere."
"I know. Though I suppose it depends on what he actually says..." he paused, hearing a soft popping sound followed by a clink and a gurgle coming down the line.
"We'd have to identify them."
"If we could."
"Yeah..." she paused. "I've been thinking about what happened that night ever since he called. I keep trying to picture the shooter's face. Sometimes, I think I see him so clearly and then other times...he's just a blur."
"I know what you mean."
"I keep seeing the eight week old baby we'd have now if it wasn't for them." Her voice shook slightly. "Our baby..." He closed his eyes, feeling the pain of her words and yet not knowing what to say to make it better for either of them. "I wonder if it would have been a boy or a girl. If they would have had your eyes and my colouring or the other way around. I wonder...if I would have been a good mother..."
Oh my darling...you would have been a wonderful mother.
"There's no point in torturing ourselves," he replied, blinking back tears he hadn't even realised had formed.
"No, I guess not." There was another clink. "Claire told me you resigned because of what happened to your witness."
He paused, both at the abrupt change of direction of the conversation and at the revelation that she had spoken to Claire. "I didn't realise you had talked to her."
"Well I wasn't going to get anything out of that old dragon Celia now, was I? She always did hate me."
"No she didn't."
"She did."
"When did you talk to Claire?"
"I don't know, a few weeks ago? I still can't believe you quit. That job was your life."
That old familiar phrase. Was I really like that? Is that really how everybody saw me?
"No it wasn't, not latterly at least. The kids were my life. Are my life." He took a breath. "And you." There was a silence, then a hiccup then another clink and he frowned. "Evelyn, are you drunk?"
"No..." she replied, in a tone that indicated exactly the opposite. "Well...maybe..."
The true reasoning of why he had been wanting to talk to her all week suddenly came flooding back, as though whatever screen she had pulled down over his eyes just by saying his name was being thrown back up, the thought of how much he loved and missed her tempered by the look he had seen on his daughter's face. "Pamela was very upset by your conversation the other week," he said, trying hard to keep his voice even and his temper in check.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I didn't know she was going to call me that day. To be fair, I didn't know she was going to call me the previous day either. It was the middle of the fucking night where I am. She scared the shit out of me."
"So you think that what you said to her was all right then, do you?"
There was a pause. "To be honest...I don't really remember what I said to her but the fact that you've been calling me every day this week would lead me to believe it wasn't good."
"You were crying, you asked where I was, she said she would get me and you shouted at her to go away. Does any of that ring a bell?"
"You're angry with me," she said in a small voice. "I can tell...I can tell that you're angry with me..."
"Yes I'm angry!" he retaliated before he could stop himself. "You upset my daughter, Evelyn! Admittedly you could have said a lot worse but Pam has been ill with worry about you ever since! The fact that she couldn't even tell me and had to tell her mother instead..."
"Oh yes...Laura. Saint fucking Laura," Evelyn sneered. "I'm sure the two of you have been having a great time talking about me behind my back. How pathetic I am...how I'm not fit to be a mother, any mother. How does she feel about you leaving the DA's office Ben? Does she think it means she's going to get you back in her bed now? I suppose with things being so good between you and the kids now it's the obvious fucking next move, right? Or maybe you've already made it."
"And what about you?" he retorted childishly. "Sarah told me that you've been having a great time blowing off steam...!"
There was silence, then a muffled sob.
"Evelyn?"
The dial tone sounded in his ear.
"Damn it," he swore softly. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."
