Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Glad some of you are liking this. Here's an update for you - hope you enjoy.

You know that saying that no one has a perfect life?

I think mine might be.

Maybe my life wasn't perfect before – in fact, I know it wasn't. I've made mistakes in my past. Bad judgment calls. But I've also paid the price for those mistakes and bad judgments. And if you learn from a mistake – if you make it a lesson – can you really consider it a 'mistake'?

I've never thought so. The things I've been through have shaped who I am today. The long, lonely road I've traveled has helped rebuild my confidence in myself. It's made me sure of who and what I am. What I think of myself, and how others see me.

How exactly do others see me? That's something I've never spent much time worrying about. I'm above the opinions of others. The nicknames I've earned in my professional life – 'The Ice Queen' among the most charming – have little effect on me now. Some might describe me as 'cold' or 'uncaring'. But I harbor as much compassionate, if not more, for the victims I work for as the next person. I just don't show it as easily. I can keep things inside. I can appear icy to my colleagues because I demand a lot from them, but never more than I demand from myself.

I don't let people get close to me easily or often, nor do I allow myself to get too close to anyone else. I don't believe in attachments to other people. I've learned the hard way that you will hurt the people you care about the most, and they will hurt you, no matter what. You will be torn from them, sometimes out of your own control. And the heartache and the sadness just aren't worth it.

That's not to say I don't have any friends; I do. I have a very small group of people that I feel comfortable being maybe sixty-percent of myself around. Elliot, Olivia, Fin, George; these people I would have no problem using the word "friend" in reference to. We go out to drinks after tough work days and unwind. We've celebrated birthdays together. We've had lunch and shopped together. We've spent evenings together at our apartments, trying to talk each other out of insanity after a particularly tough case.

But even as much I as care about these people, I can't let them all the way in. I can't let them see the real me. I can't let them get too close. They may be able to peer over my iron walls, but they will never get over them or knock them down.

I focus on my career and I what I want from my life. I've accomplished more in my lifetime than most people could accomplishment in multiple lifetimes, and I'm proud of everything I've done. I'm proud to have the highest conviction rate at the Manhattan District Attorney's office, and to be the Assistant District Attorney with the most seniority. I can pick and choose my cases. I can set my own hours. I have a staff working for me. I'm highly respected in the courtroom and around the office. I have a career goal in sight and I know just how I want to get there.

And the next step towards my future resides in the promotion I am up for – Executive Assistant District Attorney. It's basically one-step down from District Attorney; his right-hand man or woman, per say. The job comes with more responsibilities, of course. I would take on more of a supervisory role to other ADAs in the office and I would determine who gets what cases and oversee their progress, as well as get an increased caseload of my own. And, above all, the job comes with a fancy title.

District Attorney Jack McCoy is announcing his choice to fill this spot this afternoon, but I already consider the job mine. I've been planning for it and preparing to transition over for several weeks now. Our of everyone in the office, I'm the most qualified. I've been here the longest, I have the best conviction rate, and I'm damn good at what I do. There isn't one person in this office would agree with that. I've minced no words and made it clear to McCoy that this is what I want. And when don't I get what I want? Almost never.

Aside from my qualifications, the other candidates just don't have what it takes. McCoy is also considering a relatively young and unknown ADA, Tracy Remena, who wants to transfer out of Appeals, and Casey Novak. Both have many strikes against them. Tracy has been with the DA's office less than six years and her conviction rate is less-than impressive. And Casey Novak – where shall I start with her? She has a very public censure on her record, and had her law license suspended for three years. I strongly disagreed with McCoy's decision to re-hire her, but I could do little to influence it. The fact that he's considering her for this job at all stuns me. Tough I suppose there has to be some competition, just for show.

I've prepared a little speech in my head that I'm going to deliver when McCoy announces I'm his choice at our meeting this afternoon; an acceptance speech of sorts. I've put together just the right words to make me appear humble and relatively shocked that I was chosen.

I'm still rehearsing it in my mind as we all assemble in the conference room. My colleagues pour in, and I take my usual seat to the right of McCoy. I've already got this job; I just don't have the title. I'm just waiting to be crowned.

I don't feel the least bit nervous as I watch everyone come in. Ninety-eight percent of the people in this room aren't even being considered for the job, and I'm convinced they don't really care who is chosen. It's not going to matter much to them; it isn't going to change their lives at all. To them, this is just a weekly inconvenient meeting.

I notice Tracy get a few handshakes when she enters the room. She smiles and thanks them for their kind words. Too bad she doesn't stand a chance.

McCoy starts to speak before everyone is present. "We're going to start a few minutes late today; Casey Novak is stuck in court. And she needs to be at this meeting."

I nearly scoff. Why? It isn't as if she's getting the job. McCoy wouldn't hand over such a prestigious title so someone with such a spotty record. We can fill her in on my victory later. Maybe someone will be so kind as to record my speech for her.

Thankfully, we don't have to wait long before she arrives. She enters quickly and takes an empty seat across from me, apologizing profusely for being late. She gives me a smile but I just look away. I'm not one for false pleasantries.

McCoy goes through a nearly forty-five minute speech about the importance of the EADA position and the responsibly that it entails. He talks about the qualities he looked for, and how hard it was to choose one person out of the "wonderful, qualified candidates" who were considered. I nearly scoff again.

Finally, he concludes his speech with, "After several weeks of deliberation, I've reached a decision. I've chosen a leader who will represent me and this office with dignity and respect. Someone I can trust. And someone I know will always have the best interests of this office at heart."

This is the crowning moment. I almost stand up, but I figure that would be too presumptuous. I have to at least make it look like I wasn't sure I had this wrapped up.

And then he speaks again, "I've chosen Casey Novak."

It takes my brain several seconds to process the words he has just spoken. And once I process them, I can't believe them. My mouth actually drops open in shock.

The entire room is silent and all eyes are on me. Not on Casey – on me. Everyone just assumed I would get this job, and now they are just waiting for my reaction. The look of shock I see on my colleague's faces could rival my own right now.

I force myself to look at Casey, and she looks to be the most shocked out of all of us. She looks at McCoy, as if wanting a confirmation of his words. He just nods his head and smiles proudly.

I am feeling so many emotions right now that I don't know which one to give into – betrayal, anger and embarrassment are all fighting for control.

I'm Alex Cabot – this kind of thing just doesn't happen to me. No one bests me. Especially not someone like Casey Novak.

I can still feel several sets of eyes on me and I look at the tabletop, anger winning the emotional battle inside of me. This is an outrage; it's completely unacceptable.

Several colleagues have approached Casey and are congratulating her and suddenly I'm not the focus of attention anymore. McCoy raises his eyes and meets mine, and I glare at him before gathering my folders up from the table.

Casey has just started talking when I make my hasty exit. For the first time, I don't care how unprofessional this looks. I cannot sit in that room and listen to someone who doesn't deserve the job – who doesn't even deserve to be here at all – talk about how happy they are to get it.

What the hell was McCoy thinking? Does he realize the credibility of this office is about to go down the drain? Casey is going to be picked apart by the media because of her record. McCoy's judgment is going to be questioned. But I guess he didn't think about that.

When I get back to my office, I angrily slam the door and sit down at my desk. I'm still in a state of disbelief. I don't have any words to adequately describe what I feel right now. I rip off my glasses and rub my eyes, trying to rub away the stress. I'm actually nearly in tears, and quite ashamed of myself for that.

For the next twenty minutes, I reevaluate my position. I deserve better than this. McCoy has made a dreadful mistake, and he's going to learn the hard way. If, after nearly fourteen years of faithful service, McCoy feels it necessary to appointment someone who is not qualified in the least for a job over me, I can't be here anymore. I can't work under someone knowing that I should be in their place. Especially someone I have no respect for whatsoever.

I'm in the process of considering writing my resignation when there's a knock on my door. And wouldn't you know it – it's Jack McCoy.

I don't even greet him as he comes in and takes a seat across from my desk. I pretend to be busily working away on my laptop. But that doesn't stop him from speaking.

"I could tell you're very upset, but not congratulating Casey was very unprofessional."

I move my eyes from my computer to McCoy. "You're going to lecture me on unprofessionalism?" I can't hide the anger in my voice. "The woman you 'chose' for this job is the poster girl for unprossionalism."

"Now, Alex, that isn't fair. You didn't even stay to hear my reasons why I chose Casey."

"I don't really care to hear your reasons, Jack," I tell him, sitting back in my chair and crossing my arms against my chest. "Casey Novak - really? What the hell were you thinking, Jack? She was censured! She had her license suspended!"

"I'm aware of that," McCoy answers without even missing a beat. "I'm also aware that Casey is a great prosecutor, with a conviction record that nearly rivals yours."

I laugh and return my attention to my laptop. "It takes more than being a great prosecutor to do a job like that. She doesn't have what it takes. No one is going to respect her. No one is going to listen to her."

"And you do?" McCoy asks. "You have what it takes?"

"Of course! I've been doing this job for two years; just without the title. I've been your right-hand and done your dirty work for two years, Jack. Two years. You know that. Casey has been back from her suspension for less than two years. I have the respect of our colleagues, and the knowledge to do this job. What you did to me today…" I trail off and shake my head. "It was a slap in that face, Jack. A slap in the face." I turn back to my computer. "And I can't promise you I'll stick around to watch this office descend into a black hole."

McCoy is silent for a moment. And when she speaks again, it's purposeful and direct. "Casey has made mistakes; she acknowledges that and she owns up to those mistakes. She doesn't make excuses for herself. She deserved a second chance. Everyone deserves a second chance. She's just as good as you, Alex; in every way. And do you know what she possesses that you don't?"

I'm interested to hear this, so I raise my eyes and look at McCoy questioningly.

"She doesn't feel entitled to anything, the way you do. You've been on a crusade for nearly a month to make sure I knew how much you wanted this job; how much you deserved this job. Casey didn't try to get the job. She focused on her work and was herself while you were busy making sure I noticed everything you did and made sure I knew how important you felt you were to this office. And as for colleagues respecting Casey – I don't see that it's going to be an issue. Casey's people skills are more advanced than yours, Alex."

His words are hitting home, and I have to look away so he won't see the guilt and realization in my eyes. "What do you mean?" I demand, frowning in anger.

"What I mean is people aren't afraid to talk to Casey. She doesn't tear someone's head off for making a small mistake. She doesn't put unnecessary pressure on anyone. She listens, and she's supportive of her colleagues. She thinks of someone other than herself and her career when she performs her job." McCoy stops abruptly and stands. "I think you could learn something from her. Consider this a valuable lesson, Alex. Not even you are above lessons."

I lower my eyes to my desk and let McCoy's words sink in as he exits my office, closing the door behind him.

I finish early and decide to give my resignation some more thought once I'm home. I'm not in the mood to do much else. My anger is still at the boiling point. I just need to get away from this office and away from people right now.

I've just made it to the parking garage when someone calls my name from behind me.

I spin around and sigh as I realize it's Casey. She's approaching me quickly and I shake my head, starting to walk again. "I don't have time for this," I say curtly.

"Alex – please." Casey stops right beside me. "I just need a moment of your time."

I sigh to let he know how unhappy I am about this and cross my arms in front of my chest again. "Fine – you have one minute. Make it count."

She nods and wastes no time talking. "I wanted to say I am sorry about today. I'm sorry about how things turned out."

I actually laugh out loud. "Seriously? You expect me to believe that? You got a promotion today; one that should have been mine. You aren't sorry in the least."

This would normally deter someone from going any further, but Casey doesn't stop. "I'm just sorry about how it turned out for you. I know you deserved that job. But I deserve it too. And I'm going to do my best to be successful."

I scoff at her. "And you're telling me this why…?"

"I just wanted you to know. I know you were never happy about me coming back here. I know you don't like me. But maybe we can put that behind us and be friends."

That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. "Friends? I don't think so. I have no desire to be your friend. And you're right – I don't like you, or the fact that you're here. And I certainly don't think you should have gotten this job." I'm about to walk away, but I stop to say one more thing, "And if you think I'm taking orders from someone like you, you have another thing coming. I pick and choose my cases; you aren't interfering with that. I have very high standards and a low tolerance for stupidity or someone who can't pull their weight or has no respect for a job they've sworn to do. You lied to a judge, Casey. You knowingly lied. I don't care to associate myself with someone of such weak moral fiber."

As soon as those words leave my mouth, I regret them. They were cruel; unnecessarily cruel. Casey made a mistake, but I've made my share as well. It's not fair that I throw her mistakes in her face. This is exactly what McCoy was talking about.

But even though I know this is wrong, I don't apologize. I can't. I can't let Casey see me second-guessing myself.

So I turn and walk away. I stride briskly towards my car. And it's only a few seconds before Casey follows me.

"What gives you the right to judge me?" she demands, catching up to me. "You don't really know me at all."

"Oh, I do," I spit out, turning to face her again. "I do know you. I know you showed no regard for your job when you lied to Petrovsky. I know you lost your license for three years. I know you weaseled your way back in to the office somehow and stole a job from under my nose. And I know I deserve it more than you."

I start walking again, and Casey shouts, "What makes you think you're so superior to me and everyone else?"

"I don't have to think," I reply, without even turning around. I'm surprised at how easily I'm able to be cruel. It's as if I'm a robot and I'm programmed to spit out cruelty as a defense tactic.

"It's sickening how much you love yourself."

That statement causes me to turn around. Casey's words sting, and I'm about to come back with some of my own, but she beats me to it.

She shakes her head. "You know what? It isn't worth it. I made an attempt to make things civil between us. If you have no interest in that, that's on you. But I have this job, Alex. Not you. And you're going to have to accept that. I'm not wasting another second trying to be your friend because it's not worth it, and neither are you."

For once, I'm rendered speechless as I watch Casey walk away. And when I finally start to move again, her words are still stinging.

So, what did you think? Was McCoy right for not giving Alex the job? What does this mean for her? Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!