-10-

Another week passed before there was any news, but this was worth waiting for.

"Cabot's on the way over. They picked up Morgan in Baltimore."

"Another rape?" Olivia asked.

"No, " Cragen explained. "A lucky break. Baltimore PD was sitting on a bar for illegal gambling. When they got what they needed off a wired informant, they sealed the exits and went in. Our guy was there, minding his own business, and got caught in the net.

"He put up a fight?" Fin asked.

"Oddly, no. He must have hoped that he'd somehow slip through if he kept his head down."

"No such luck, thank God." The voice was Cabot's, punctuated by the clacking of her heels as she entered the squad room.

"Charm City comes though," crowed Munch. "Second finest police force in the world."

"Nice to see some civic pride, John, " joked Cragen. "I think this is a great opportunity for you to pay a visit to your old stomping grounds. Cabot's going to need an escort to claim our prize so John, you and Fin win the trip of a lifetime."

"Aight, Captain, when do we go?" asked Fin.

"Counselor?" Don asked, and they all turned to Alex.

"Well, it may not be quite so simple. Turns out Morgan fled to Baltimore because it was one of his old haunts. He was wanted there for jumping bail, so I can't just serve the extradition warrant. We'll have to go to court, but it should just be a formality. I'm trying to get a hearing on the docket in Baltimore for tomorrow afternoon, so we'll leave in the morning," the attorney explained. "Don , a word?"

Don held the door, ushering the ADA in before closing it behind them. "Have a seat."

"No, this'll only take a minute," Alex waved off the proffered chair. Then I've got to get back to the office to get going on the extradition paperwork."

"Sure," Don replied, leaning back against the front edge of his desk, hands supporting his weight on either side.

"What can I do for you, Counselor?"

"Captain," she began, "I have a request." Cragen noticed she had moved behind the chair, and had already lifted her hands from the chair back, crossing her arms in front of her. Protective gestures, both. Don tried not to notice those things, hated always to consider means, motives, evasiveness, 'tells,' but 33 years with a badge doesn't just turn off and on whenever you'd like. He waited another second, but could see that the normally loquacious ADA was going to need prompting.

"Request?" Cragen repeated. His voice seemed to bring her back from a brief sojourn deep in her own thoughts.

"Yes, please. I'm glad to have Sergeant Munch along on the trip to Baltimore, but could you send Detective Benson, too?"

"Instead of Fin, you mean?" Alex nodded. "Counselor, is there a problem with Detective Tutuola that I'm unaware of?"

"No, no, of course not. Detective Tutuola is an exemplary professional." Alex paused, though, and seemed reluctant to supply the but that had to be coming. Don waited her out. A few beats more, and then a sigh. "In light of the circumstance..."

Alex pulled up short again, and Cragen noticed that her arms were still tightly crossed, and her eyes were now avoiding his own, locked instead onto his brown tie, and more specifically on to an infinitesimal fleck of Dijon mustard that he hadn't wiped off at lunch time. Even in a state of obvious distraction, this woman missed no detail, however small. He decided to try to make this easier for her, if he could.

"Counselor," he began, then thought better of it. "Alex."

Bingo. She looked up, seemed to be shaking off an unpleasant daydream.

"Sorry, Captain, it's just..."

"Out with it.' He cut her off. "What's wrong, Alex?" He could see her thinking three, four sentences ahead, deciding what to say, how to say it. And he could see her resign herself, at last, to the unadorned truth. He'd made a living noticing these things.

"Captain..."

"Don."

"Right, sorry. Don. When I was in Witness Protection, Baltimore was my last stop before I came home. I haven't been there since, haven't been to revisit any of my stops. With this damn case, though, it's been on my mind more than it should be. I just thought..."

"Alex, who could blame you? Can't the DA send someone else down there?"

"Probably. But I won't ask. This is my case, our case. I'd trust Casey, or Mike, but nether of them is available. Besides, I fought my way back here to SVU and I won't hand off a case to someone who knows little and cares even less."

"Of course," Don said, thinking that he should have known this one would never pass the buck, no matter how much it cost her. "Say no more. Benson and Munch it is," he assured her. "I'm surprised Benson didn't knock her chair over volunteering to go with you."

"It was so long ago," Alex said, uncrossing her arms to give a dismissive wave. "I'm sure she's forgotten the details. Lord knows I've tried to. I'm feeling more than a bit silly to have given it any thought at all."

This was the most—the only thing, really—that Alex had ever said to Don about her time in the Program, and though the years had served only to make her more striking and self-assured, he was struck by how very young she suddenly seemed.

It reminded him of the young ADA she'd once been, and he thought of all that must have happened in WITSEC. Her assumption that Olivia wouldn't recall the details confirmed two suspicions: that Alex had shared at least some of her story with the detective, and that Alex still didn't know how deeply her ordeal had affected the squad. Each of them, really, but Olivia most profoundly.

"Alex, sit, please." Hesitation. "Please, just for a moment."

She acquiesced, moving to the front of the chair she'd used as a bulwark, sinking into the seat and crossing her legs. Cragen joined her in the other seat, rather than his own desk chair. He didn't turn toward her, allowing her to maintain a little space, and he noticed her more relaxed posture was belied by her white-knuckle grip on the chair arms.

"Look, Alex, I can't imagine for one moment what you went through. What you continue to go through. But you have to know that we are your squad. We're here for you."

"I shouldn't even...it's been seven years. I don't think about it much, but damn it if it doesn't show its ugly face at the strangest of times. Having a good memory is a great asset to a lawyer, but a curse in so many other ways."

"Give yourself a break, Alex. I know you don't do that often, but on this, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."

"Is that an order, Captain?" A slight smirk tugged at her mouth.

"Well, I know you don't work for me..." That earned him a smile that spread across her face, and almost reached all the way to her eyes.

"...but yes, it is an order. None of us have forgotten losing you—or getting you back, for that matter. I can guarantee you that Olivia hasn't forgotten anything she knew, anything she felt, anything you've shared with her. Not one single detail. So why in hell should you expect yourself to have amnesia?"

Now, finally, a real smile, the kind none of them gave or received enough of in this job. He'd earned it, Alex thought, and her long-standing admiration for him only grew. To say so much, provide so much reassurance, and yet pry so little...she felt how much he cared for her, and it emboldened her a bit. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard.

Her voice was thick, but her words were clear. "Thanks, Don. Truly. I got very lucky the day I was assigned to SVU." He smiled at her, briefly closing his other hand over hers.

"Lucky?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "All evidence to the contrary, Counselor."

Alex laughed, a welcome sound to both of them. "Well, maybe 'luck' isn't the word for it. But I appreciate your help, your..."

"Nothing. It's nothing, Alex. Anytime."