The gavel slammed down with a bang after Judge Northridge dismissed the jury for lunch. As people began to file out of the room, McCoy stepped down from the witness stand and joined Stone at the defense table.

"All right Ben, lets hear it. How much damage was done this morning," he asked quietly, his bewildered gaze following Prescott as she left the courtroom.

Stone looked up from the folder he was shoving into his briefcase.

Under no circumstances are you to discuss any of this with Jack. The words had been intermittently ringing in his ears for over a week. He never thought he'd see the day he would trust Jack McCoy enough to want to confide in him,much less to think that confidence could be in the best interest of a woman they both cared about. But, much to Stone's surprise, that day had come.

"I think between the two of us, we cleaned up the majority of the muck Gorton made. You make a credible witness, Jack. A lot of what Gorton tried to pull irritated not only the judge but members of the jury - the looks they gave him - well, it's obvious …,"Stone replied abrupting becoming silent.

" What's obvious," McCoy pressed. "Ben, I realized aren't exactly friends, but in the last few weeks I thought we'd both made some progress at putting the past behind us. After all, we both want what's best for Brooke - which reminds me - the way she dashed out of the courtroom...Is something wrong?"

"If anyone had told me six months ago I'd be saying what I'm about to say, I'd have called them crazy. Shambala was right. It's time to let the past - to let Claire - rest in peace."

McCoy nodded.

"That time is long over due. When this is over, I'd like you come come by my office. There are several things I'd like to discuss with you. But, right now, I'd like to know where Brooke went and what you're obviously not telling me."

"Brooke's boss called her as we were walking into the courtroom - wanted to meet her for lunch -"

"Michael Jackowicz?"

"No, the EADA - Renard - I think. As for the rest, I'm sorry Jack. I can't discuss the case with you."

McCoy's face clouded as he frowned. He wasn't sure which statement bothered him more.

"And why is that, Ben?"

Stone met his gaze, grateful to finally have the chance to send McCoy in the right direction.

"My client's exact words were 'under no circumstances are you to discuss any of this with Jack'."

"Any of what? The case? Why?"

Stone shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"You'll have to ask my client."

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"I don't know why this couldn't have been done over the phone or at least at Clancy's," demanded Prescott irritably, as she slid into the booth. "Instead of making me schlep all the way over to Central Park."

"I thought since I had to be in the city today, I'd give you the news in person. Besides, I thought you could use a distraction. In the old days, Tavern on the Green was one of your favorite places to eat when we would come into Manhattan," Renard said as the waiter returned with their drinks. "I took the liberty of ordering you -"

"Take it back," she said shaking her head. "I'm not staying Clint. In case you hadn't noticed I'm in the middle of a trial."

"I'm not aware of any rule that says eating well will adversely effect the outcome of a pending case."

"And I'm involved with Jack McCoy, as you well know. If I was in the mood for witty repartee, I'd be lunching with him."

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

Renard closed the menu shaking his head.

"Just the drink for now, thank you. Brooke, you can't be serious about McCoy-"

"God damn it Clint, you said you had business to discuss," she said grabbing her clutch bag off the table. "Either get to the point or talk to yourself, because I'm leaving, whether you're my supervisor or not. Ever hear of something called sexual harassment?"

Renard nodded in agreement.

"All right - you're right. Look, I wanted to tell you in person. Ray Ferris can't represent the office at the Drug Trafficking Task Force Summit in Miami next month. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer yesterday and Michael asked me to make another recommendation. I told him to send you."

Prescott set her bag back down, stunned by Renard's words. It was an assignment she had literally begged for when it first came up. It was a way to continue the work Sam Prescott had started as a Federal Prosecutor against the drug trade organized crime controlled. She had gone over Renard's head when he refused to recommend her, only to be overruled by the DA himself. Both men feared the asignment would serve to bring unwelcome attention back to Prescott, from the man responsible for her husband's death.

"Well, I'm sorry to gain the opportunity this way. Rey must be devastated. You fought me tooth and nail on this. So did Michael. What else changed?"

Renard picked up his glass and studied it without answering.

"It must have killed you to back track with Jackowicz on this," Prescott said as her mind put the pieces together. "after the way you sold me out, last time. It's a six month assignment. That means my entire caseload as to be reassigned. Why would you put yourself through that when you don't even think…you bastard."

"Do you still want the assignment or not?"

Of course I do, she thought angrily. For five years she'd lived in fear, as well as mourning, because of drug lords. Hell yes, she wanted a chance to not only get some old fashioned pay back, but a chance to be involved in something that could make a difference nationwide, as far as the successful incarceration of the big fishs that ran the drug cartels.

But to get it as a means for Clint Renard to pull strings in her personal life. Was that too high a price to pay?

"You know if you put this much effort in your so called marriage, maybe it wouldn't be ending," she said standing.

"That's not an answer," he said unruffled.

"Do you deny that this is nothing more than a pathetic manipulation to try and put some distance between me and Jack?"

Renard looked up into her blue grey eyes seeing a look he knew all too well.

"Before you decide to throw something at me, remember you've wanted this for months. Whatever my motives are for offering it to you, that doesn't change the fact you would be doing something is important for you and the community."

"Have I told you what a pathetic bastard you are lately?"

"Well, you did tell me less than five minutes ago how pathetic my manipulations are - does that count," he said the slightest of smirks. "give it some thought. I need an answer by the end of the week."

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Prescott was preoccupied with Renard's comments when she saw the cab in front of the restaurant. Without thinking she jumped in the back, startled to find Peter Weaver looking equally startled.

"Mrs. Pres-"

"Mr. Weaver - I apologize," she said as she opened the door. "I didn't see you. I'll take the next one."

"Wait," the older man said, his hand on her arm. "I assume were going to the same place? Just stay where you are. We can share the cab."

Prescott shook her head.

"That's very generous, but it's improp-"

"Lady," interjected the taxi driver. "Are you staying or going?"

"She's staying," Weaver said handing the cab a twenty.

Prescott sighed as she flipped her cell phone open.

"Thank you, Mr. Weaver."

For the first several minutes Prescott busied herself listening to her voice mail. When she returned the phone to her purse, Weaver turned to her with a troubled expression on his rough face.

"Rather a hurried lunch," he remarked.

"Due to the company, I never did get around to the food," she replied with a chuckle. "and yourself?'

Weaver gave as soft laugh as well.

"Similar problem - I was stood up. I have a fifteen minute rule."

"I should have been so lucky,' Prescott said under her breath.

"Your Mr. McCoy showing his true colors?"

Prescott flushed, resisting the urge to defend her lover.

"Actually, I wasn't meeting Mr. McCoy."

Weaver nodded. Both of them stared out of opposite windows at the mid day traffic.

After a few minutes Weaver turned to her.

"How did you know about Sammy's Four H scholarship," he blurted out. "it wasn't in any thing I released for her obituary."

"I remembered reading about it in her forward for How to Make it in the Corner Office . I remembered it because Four H seemed so far removed from the image of a CEO, one usually projects. Yet, your daughter was very open - very proud of her early accomplishments - as well she should have been."

"You read Sammy's book - before - before her death?" Weaver's eyes softened as Prescott nodded. "I didn't think fancy lawyers like you took the time to read anything but law journals written by other fancy lawyers."

"Excuse me Mr. Weaver, but this 'fancy lawyer' waited tables at her uncles pub to earn enough money to pay for city college and eventually law school."

"Did you," he said sitting back as he studied her face. "Sammy waited tables in the summer when she was going to Harvard."

"I remember that from the book. No one can say your daughter wasn't a hard worker."

"Damn right," he said with fatherly pride. "I taught my girl right - nothing was handed to Sammy. She earned everything she ever got."

"My father felt the same way - Malinowski's make their own way- those were his words to live by."

"Malinowski?"

"Maiden name."

"Ah, yes. Of course. I had Mr. Gorton do a little research for me on you." he said off handedly. "Asked him to focus on the last decade or so. Just to get a feel of what kind of person …tough break for you losing your husband the way you did. Knowing about the circumstances…it makes sense …."

"Tougher break for you, losing your daughter the way you did," she said softly wanting to say more, but knowing better than to cross the line, especially during a trial.

"When I read your letter, I expected a ploy - something McCoy may have had a hand in. Then I noticed details…Like the scholarship. I knew you meant what you said," he whispered. "I appreciate that, Mrs. Prescott - no matter what happens with … this afternoon won't be pleasant for either of us…"

Before he could continue, the cab pulled up in front of the courthouse barricades. Prescott reached to hand the cabby the fare and Weaver pushed her hand a side.

As he opened his door he turned to look at her, again a look of uneasiness rested on his face.

"No matter what happens. One way or another things will be resolved very soon."