Twenty-five: 04:00

Diane Lockhart hated calls that came at four in the morning.

She hated it even more that she is incapable of ignoring them as well, no matter if she'd only been asleep for an hour or three. A call during that time of the night meant many things, most of them serious and rarely ever a sign of good news.

Calls at that time in the morning when the sun isn't even anywhere near up were bad, bad news.

She was sleepy enough to answer without checking the caller ID, "H-hello?"

No answer on the other end.

"Who is this?" she asked, annoyed. She was ready to rip into whoever it was on the other end and she wasn't going to give a damn if it was Will or God Himself.

"…Diane?"

"Yes?" she couldn't help the bitchy tone to her voice. In the back of her head, the voice was familiar but she was far too groggy, far too naked to give this one much thought.

"What are you doing answering this phone?"

"What? Who is this? You called me."

A beat, "I didn't call you…I called this number. It's Jack."

"Jack who?"

"Jack…Copeland? We met when I served you? We went out on a date?"

"Oh, right," she sat up, suddenly awake, pressing sheets to her chest and hoping to god she hadn't woken up the sleeping lump next to her, "What-what can I do for you?"

"Not you, actually," Jack sounded almost uncomfortable and she wondered if she'd been too bitchy, "I was calling a friend of mine…Kurt McVeigh?"

Diane stopped, her eyes growing wide and she was most definitely awake this time. She swallowed, denying the truth as she slowly removed the phone from her ear and looked at it. It was still a little dark but there was enough light for the damning truth to be revealed.

She had picked up the wrong phone.

And to what was worst, she was now finding out that maybe she and her lover had a few people in common after all. And Jack Copeland was apparently one of them.

Hell of a way to find out at four in the morning while she was naked and bitchy and now, ready to crawl under a rock. She was pretty sure death would be more merciful.

"…Diane?"

She placed the phone back to her ear—when did her mouth go so dry?

"Jack…?"

"So…you and Kurt?"

"Uh…" she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and she pressed the sheets closer to her body, as if the man on the other end of the phone would be able to hear her current state of undress.

"Kurt…the business associate?"

"Well, actually—"

"My friend Kurt? The ballistics expert?"

"I didn't—"

"And obviously, you are not in the office discussing business…"

"Jack—"

"Alright then," his tone was light and while she'd just been jarred awake, she wasn't a moron or brain dead—the strain was there. "I'm pretty sure this means Kurt is still asleep and won't be making our drive up to the Lake this morning."

"The lake? Jack, wait—"

"Some fishing to close off a stressful week, but judging by the time and what I am assuming, correctly I'm sure, where you might be at the moment," he went on as if she hadn't spoken, "He won't be needing the lake."

"Jack, please I—"

"Lovely speaking to you, Diane," he said, "Goodbye."

"Jack, I'm—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the other end of the line was dead.

And Diane Lockhart could do nothing but stare at the empty screen of her lover's cellphone.

"Diane?"

She turned, eyes wide and wondered what she'd done to warrant pitiful luck at such an ungodly hour, "Uh, yes?"

"What're you doing up?" Kurt sat up, groggy himself as he rubbed his eye.

"Uh, phone," she said dumbly and tossed it aside, "It was nothing."

"Oh, okay," he mumbled, lying back down though he was facing her this time, "I gotta call a friend of mine to cancel something we planned this week. Mind handing me my phone?"

Diane glanced back at the phone she had just put aside then at her lover who now had his hand up for it. She was definitely sure she was at a loss at what to do then. And even while her mind tried to drum up ways to make this particular scenario work, she couldn't imagine getting out of this one unscathed.

God, she thought, lovely morning indeed.