The next evening, after the court session ended, Harry paid a visit to Christine's apartment. Earlier that evening, he was informed that Christine had called in sick, and that he would have a substitute public defender until she returned. As far as Harry knew, Christine was the healthiest person he knew, and something about her calling in sick didn't seem right. So, he grabbed his hat and some take-out, and drove over to Christine's apartment.

He knocked on the door a couple times before he heard a strained voice answer.

"What?!"

Harry never heard Christine answer like that. This was unlike the woman he knew. But then again, he rarely visited her to know her demeanor outside the courtroom.

"Christine? It's Harry. I heard that you were sick, and I wanted to check up on you. I brought you some soup and sandwiches. Or rather us some soup and sandwiches."

To Harry's shock, Christine answered the door with disheveled hair, red eyes and a bathrobe.

"Well! Isn't it the Honorable Harold T. Stone," smirked Christine.

"Hi, uh, Christine. Are you okay?" he asked, taking in Christine's appearance.

"No, Your Honor. Tony dumped me," she slurred, leaning against the doorway. "Are you coming in...or...are you gonna stand outside with the food?"

"Yeah, I'll come in," he answered, sliding by her.

Harry never saw Christine in such horrible shape. At that moment, she wasn't the cheery, confidant public defender who defended her clients to her utmost abilities, even if their defenses were unfounded. What he saw was a dejected soul in need of a shoulder to cry on, and Harry decided that he would be that shoulder. He set the food on her table, noticing a bottle of vodka that was almost empty. While Christine struggled to lock her door, Harry swiped the bottle and discreetly hid it next to her stove.

"So, are you okay?" he asked again, awkwardly.

"Didn't you hear me the first time, Your Honor? Take a good, hard look at me. Doesssss...it look like I'm okay?" she snapped, stretching her arms for Harry to behold her.

"Scary, isn't it? To see your precious public de-FEND-der like this, huh? How about I give you a closer look at the world's most rejected woman in New York?"

Staggering towards him, Christine tripped over a stray shoe on the floor, causing Harry to jump to her rescue.

"Whoa!" he shouted, catching Christine in his arms in time.

"Harry, please, I don't feel like dancing," she whined, attempting to straighten herself.

"Christine, maybe we should sit on the couch," he said, taking her arm gently to lead her to the piece of furniture.

"I thought that we're eating, Your Honor. That's why you brought the food, right?"

"Yeah, but I think we should talk about what happened."

"Why? So that you can wag your finger at me for losing Tony, and lecture me on how I could have been 'more' understanding? Or is it because of the vodka bottle over there-where's the bottle?"

Ignoring her question, Harry seated her on the couch, and sat next to her, pushing over used tissues.

"Come on, Christine. I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help you. Just tell me what happened."

"What happened was that you...brought me food," she slurred again, with a definite nod. "And that is veryyyyyyyy nice of you, Your Honor."

"I meant between you and Tony," he clarified, ignoring the vodka stench on her breath.

"What's to talk about? He said that it wasn't going to work out, that we were...toooooooo different!" she squeaked.

"I told him that I could learn to be more spontaneous and adventurous if he would just give me a little time to prove it. I even told him that I could cut the crusts off his sandwiches, to prove that I can go against the system!"

"Christine, you do that for kids, not for grown men," reminded Harry.

"Well, some grown men don't like crusts! Oh, Harry! Look at what I've become! I shouldn't be like this over a man. I gave him my time, my heart, and I let myself fall in love with him, just to be dumped in the end. What's wrong with me that I can't get a guy to stay? Gosh, I hate my life!" sobbed Christine into her hands.

Harry put his arm around her and pulled her to him.

"There, there, Christine. There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. And everything's gonna be fine. Besides, that Tony doesn't know what he's talking about. Any intelligent woman who has the guts to defend people who allegedly commits crimes is adventurous in my book. It just takes a special kind of guy to appreciate that."

Christine looked into his eyes, comforted by his caresses on her shoulder. "You mean that?"

"Would I lie to you?" he smiled, smoothing her hair from her eyes.

"You've always been so decent to me, Harry. Even when we disagreed."

As she leaned on his shoulder, Christine took in the scent of cologne on Harry that tingled her nostrils in a sensual manner.

"I want to do...something nice for you, Harry," she said, silkily into his ear.

"Oh, gee, Christine, you don't have-"

Suddenly, Christine grabbed Harry's face and kissed him hard.

"Harry, make love to me," she whispered.

The words he waited so long to hear pierced his mind and heart as she caressed his face. He wanted her and he wanted her badly, but her breath reeked of alcohol, and he knew that the sober Christine Sullivan would never be this blunt.

"Christine, why don't I take you to your room so you can get some rest, okay?" suggested Harry, breaking from her touches.

Christine giggled, misunderstanding Harry's intention. "Well, onward, Harry!"

Harry helped Christine into her bedroom and pulled back the covers. When Harry turned back to Christine, he found that she took off her bathrobe, revealing a black, sheer nighty that silhouetted her body from the light in the living room.

"Take me, Harry. Make me feel desired," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Harry pulled her arms from him but panicked when they went to undo his belt.

"Christine, no!"

He threw her on the bed and ran out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

As he leaned on the door, fixing his belt, he heard soft whimpering from the other side that turned into a sob. Harry felt bad for the way he left her, but he would not take advantage of her in her drunken state. He thought about leaving but reasoned that she'll feel worser for it. Therefore, Harry put up the food in Christine's refrigerator, took off his shoes, hat, and jacket and laid on the couch, hoping that his public defender would be more forgiving and reasonable to speak to in the morning.