CHAPTER 6: AMBIVALENCE

Tuesday, January 2
8:40 pm

"Well, so much for that," Deborah said bitterly as Morelli entered the room again. Morelli pursed his lips and sat down, considering her for a long moment. "What?" she finally asked.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"What?"

"To drive him off like that? To push him until he left?"

"You're taking his side?" Deborah asked, incredulous. Morelli narrowed his eyes, trying to keep anger in check. Anger at her, mostly, but also at himself. At his growing realization that Rey was right, that they had both been walking all over him and that he'd had every right to walk out in frustration.

"He's the one who was wrong!" Deborah said defiantly into Morelli's stony silence.

"Yes, he was. But you're so focused on how wrong he was that you're dismissing everything else."

"Like what?"

"Doesn't it matter at all that he did tell you?"

"After five months? Not much, no."

"After five months and a lot of pressure from me." Deborah shrugged impatiently. "I told him that as a Catholic and a husband and father he could not tell you."

"Rey doesn't listen well to authority."

"No, not most authority. But he does listen to the Church. As a representative of the Church, I know I hold a lot of sway with him." She looked away impatiently as Morelli persisted. "Do you know how much it took for him to go against what his own priest was telling him? Why do you think he did that?"

Deborah set her jaw stubbornly. "Because he loves you," Morelli said gently. "And he respects you. I wish he'd followed my advice because if he had, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. But he told you because he wanted to do right by you."

"He should've done right by me before-"

"And what do you think has kept him coming to these sessions?" Morelli continued, ignoring her. "Do you think he comes for the coffee? Because he enjoys delving into his deepest emotions?" She smiled slightly. Morelli paused to gather his thoughts and decided to say something that he'd been thinking for a long time, but now realized was way past due.

"Deborah. We all know you had a difficult childhood. But you need to get past it. You cannot expect him to live in the shadow of your mistrust for the rest of his life. That's not a marriage, that's a penance."

"But he knew - he grew up the same way I did, he said he didn't want to ever do that to his kids-"

"Yes, he knew. And he promised he wouldn't, and he broke that promise," Morelli recited wearily. "Enough. You are not a little girl being hurt by her father any more. Grow up. He has."

"Oh, he's grown up so much that now he's just like his father-"

"No, he's grown up because he's come here willing to make amends. You've just been coming here to nurse a grudge and be vindictive. He doesn't deserve that from you. He's more than paid for his mistake. He shouldn't have to pay for your father's as well."

Deborah sat back, staring at Morelli.

"He's not like your father, Deborah. He's not like his, either. They apparently had no problem with what they did - although I wouldn't be surprised if they both felt a lot more regret than either of you ever saw," Morelli reflected. He sighed. "It was one time, on a very, very bad day. Not over and over out of a need for adventure or boredom or whyever your father did it."

Deborah's face was set, but Morelli persisted. "Deborah... he'd just seen a man die, that day. He'd just seen a human life snuffed out of existence and he knew it was partly his fault."

"Mickey Scott? A piece of scum-"

"A human being. A child of God, no matter how flawed."

"But Rey believes in the death penalty-"

"Rey also believes in the sanctity of life. He thought he could reconcile the two, but he couldn't. Not that day. He didn't know what to do about that. He hadn't expected to have any trouble with it."

Morelli continued doggedly as Deborah crossed her arms. "Have you ever known him to doubt himself, doubt his beliefs, in all the years you've known him?" Deborah looked away, and he answered for her. "No, not till now. Well, I have. After the execution."

"And that's his excuse? He couldn't reconcile his beliefs so he-"

"Are you joking? Rey, coming up with a psychological excuse for a moral failure?" Morelli shook his head. "Rey has no idea why he did anything that day. This is just me piecing things together, from how he talks about that day. The way he talks about it... he was in shock, and he didn't even realize it until it was too late."

"So next time he's 'in shock'-"

"For God's sake, Deborah!" Morelli interrupted impatiently. "Haven't you heard a word I've said? The man he was seven months ago, yes, he was in shock and he reacted blindly and stupidly. The man he is today... I can't even imagine any trauma bad enough that would make him do it again. Living with it has been too painful, too devastating to his sense of self. He's done a hell of a lot of growing up in the last seven months, and he's hated every minute of it. You know Rey - brooding, thinking, hashing over feelings and motivations... it's a waste of time to him. Imagine having to do it as much as he's had to."

Deborah frowned, clearly not wanting to go down that path. She cleared her throat. "But... but how could he just lie to me like it was nothing, for all those months?" she said plaintively.

"It wasn't 'nothing' to him. Just because you didn't see anything, doesn't mean there was nothing to see," Morelli pointed out. He hesitated for a long moment, then said, "He wrote you a letter, you know."

"What?"

"About a month before he told you. He wrote a letter telling you what had happened, in case he died. He knew he couldn't tell you while he was alive, but it was eating him up. So I suggested that he write it down, maybe make his peace with it that way. He was a little...skeptical," Morelli smiled slightly at the memory, because that was a mild way of describing the absolute scorn with which Rey had treated the idea at first. "But he did it, and I think it helped him make some kind of peace."

Deborah looked at Morelli and Morelli was reminded of the expression on Rey's face when he'd suggested the letter. There was a remarkable similarity there. He hesitated again, then stood up and went to his filing cabinet. He searched for a minute, then took the letter out, glanced it over, and came to a decision.

"Here. This was supposed to be for you eventually anyway. You may as well read it."

Dear Deborah:

If you're reading this I assume I've been dead for about two years and you got this from Father Morelli...

Deborah's vision blurred as she read the words on the page. There, in Rey's neat script, were all of his doubts and misgivings, all of his remorse. His guilt over deceiving her. Everything that he hadn't been able to say, recorded on the page. Unable to sleep, wishing he could turn back time, wishing there was something, anything, he could do to make up for what he had done. All of his love for her and their children.

Deborah blinked away tears. "I wasn't supposed to see this until after he was dead?" she asked, her voice husky.

"No."

"Bastard," she choked, trying to hold on to her anger. "When I couldn't do anything about it. He was going to have the last word, and it was going to be this."

"He gave it to me, Deborah. I wouldn't have given it to you, and I think he knew that. But he needed to feel like he'd done something, told you in some way."

"Son of a bitch," Deborah said softly. "Why couldn't he say any of this to my face?"

===

Thursday, January 4
10:09 am

I do not want to be here, Rey thought as he left the plane, back in LA.

They'd had a busy two days, questioning people about Newman. Jamie Ross had talked to Evan Grant, still at Riker's, to see how Ellison had gotten along with her ex. The answer was, not well. She'd even had him arrested for assault once when he beat her in a jealous rage, although the arresting officer, Detective Miller, had talked her out of filing charges. But at least that had given them enough to get an arrest warrant for Newman's apartment and car. They'd found enough pills in the apartment "to jump-start the sixties," according to Lennie and, more importantly, they'd also found a dozen strands of beige silk with Ellison's blood type on it caught on the gas pedal of his car, and three specks of the same blood in the trunk.

Bingo. That was all they needed to arrest the son of a bitch. Which meant that here they were, back in LA.

Back to Leesa, back to temptation he really couldn't deal with right now. Not when he didn't have a clue what would be the consequences of having walked out on his last counseling session two days ago.

Not when Deborah was now officially overdue. Just one day, true, but... Deborah had been more than one day late precisely three times. They were named Olivia, Serena, and Isabel.

"Welcome back," Detective Dunleavy, their contact from the LA Foothills Division, greeted them.

"Yeah, we're just here for takeout," Lennie said easily. "Now you guys have him in custody, right?"

"Not quite, he checked himself into the Judith Harvey Centre."

"He's in rehab? Let's go in and pull him out," Rey said impatiently.

"It's not that simple, there's a medical act."

"Hey I know the word 'rehab's' like a religion out here, but he can't just check himself into a drug treatment center and yell 'sanctuary'," Lennie said.

"I've got two units parked outside the clinic. Newman's not going anywhere," Dunleavy assured them.

"Hey, Rey! Way to go," Lennie said as they exited the airport and spotted a guy who looked like a limo driver, with a placard saying 'Detective Curtis'.

"I don't know anything about this."

"Over here," Lennie called to the driver.

"Detective Curtis?" the driver looked at Lennie.

"Ah, no, he's Curtis, I just hold his hat," Lennie quipped.

"Detective Curtis, Miss Lundquist arranged a car to take you to your hotel. She said she reserved your usual rooms."

"That's real nice, but we're leaving tonight."

"I'm happy to take you wherever you're going."

"We're on official business here, no thanks," Rey said, terribly uncomfortable.

"No problem. Um, Miss Lundquist asked me to give you this. It's her numbers where she can be reached. She asked that you give her a call, whenever you're done."

Oh, shit. No, not right now.

===

Sunday, January 7
6:00pm

"OK, sweetness, I'll talk to you tomorrow," Rey said, smiling as Isabel lisped goodbye and hung up. He lay back on the bed, rubbing his eyes and wishing he were back in New York.

He and Lennie had gone to take Newman out of rehab, and been told they were supposed to wait for him to finish his ten-day program. What the...? They'd arrested him anyway, but still had to wait until he was arraigned, which wasn't going to happen until Tuesday. So he'd had to miss his weekend visits with the girls, and once more their cases back home were languishing while he and Lennie sat around and did nothing.

Well, not nothing. And that was a problem. Leesa... he was playing with fire, his sister had said, and she was right, but it was hard not to. Not when Leesa was here and fun to be with, and he had nothing else to do, and Deborah... Deborah was all over the place. Every night that he called home was a different story. Casual one night, cold the next, pleasant the night after, back to casual tonight. So many conflicting signals he'd completely given up on reading her or figuring out where they stood. All he had to go on were random facts, which didn't lead to any satisfactory conclusions at all.

Fact: she hadn't talked about counseling since he walked out.

Fact: she still hadn't had her period. Four days over, now.

Very puzzling fact: she had called him out of the blue the night after he left counseling, and they'd had a nothing conversation about something he didn't even remember, and she'd sounded... strange. Like she wanted to say something to him, but didn't know how. She'd hung up eventually, and he still had no idea why she'd called when she could have handled it through e-mail. And then the next night she'd gone back to impersonal.

Random facts that made no pattern. If this were a case, he'd have to say it was completely stalled.

In the meantime, playing with fire or not, he'd ended up spending time with Leesa. She'd taken him to Hollywood Boulevard, Santa Monica and the Queen Mary, and they'd had dinner together twice. He'd invited Lennie along each time, in part because Lennie was going stir crazy with nothing to do and in part because... just because.

Because being with Leesa was fun, but frustrating as hell, and he kept reminding himself to keep his distance. And still their eyes would meet every so often and sparks would fly and he'd have to remind himself that he was still married in the eyes of the Church and that he was going to honour that marriage, such as it was, at least until Deborah filed for divorce. And that she still hadn't said she would. And that everything was up in the air. And that it was increasingly likely that she might be pregnant.

Being with Leesa made for interesting dreams at night, at least. An interesting distraction while he tried not to worry about Deborah being late.

===

Thursday, January 11
5:30 pm

"Steven Tashjian did kill somebody on Russo's orders, it just wasn't his wife," Jamie told them. They'd all gathered to talk over the Ellison case in McCoy's hotel room, and she was updating them on the end of the Ganz/Tashjian case as they waited for McCoy to get off the phone with Adam Schiff. "Jack gave him immunity to get him to testify against Russo."

"Immunity? On a murder?" Rey asked, eyeing McCoy askance.

"We couldn't have gotten him on it anyway, it happened too long ago and the trail would've been cold. This way at least we got Russo."

Rey tsk'd in disgust and Jamie dropped her eyes. "What, Rey, they did what they had to," Lennie protested, sensing that Jamie probably hadn't been all that pleased with Jack's solution either. Well, Jamie and Rey hadn't been around as long as he and McCoy had - they still didn't realize that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush.

"Jack wasn't sure that Tashjian had killed anybody when he gave him immunity," Jamie said lamely. Rey and Lennie both gave her identical looks of disbelief. "In any case, after we lost Flores' hospital confession, Tashjian was all we had on Russo. And Flores, for that matter. And it worked - Russo allocuted to all the murders and gave us the names of other Beachwood clients who killed for him, including Flores."

"Hey, you put away one mass murderer and arrested four of the people who killed on his orders. That's better than nothing," Lennie reassured her. Rey's face still had his patented expression of self-righteous indignation, although to his credit he kept his opinion to himself and didn't mention it when McCoy got off the phone and they started discussing the Ellison case.

And what a mess Ellison was turning out to be. If only the damn headless torso had turned out to be some nobody. You could bet this bicoastal crap with fancy lawyers and extraditions wouldn't have happened if the torso had been Carmella Raggo, the tata-enhanced stripper. Instead, Newman's lawyers were fighting the extradition on the basis that their New York warrant was invalid, so Jamie and McCoy had to fly all the way out here to prove otherwise. So here Lennie and Rey had been twiddling their thumbs for a full eight days, and nothing to show for it. Great.

Well, not nothing. Lennie had done some sightseeing, caught up on all the news fit to print, and even found an OTB parlour. OTB really wasn't the same here, though. Too sunny, too laid-back, too clean. Like this whole damn town.

He'd also met a rather nice, friendly widow from Louisiana in the hotel bar, and started spending some time with her. She was charmed by his New York accent - which amused Lennie, since he didn't know he had one - and she'd given him an excuse to avoid doing the third wheel thing with Rey and Leesa Lundquist. Thank god, because the sexual tension between those two was getting so thick it set Lennie's teeth on edge. Some people might find that kind of thing intriguing, but Lennie was just irritated and bored out of his skull by the whole situation. He was getting a little too close to losing it and snapping at Rey to grab a clue and take the girl to bed before they both spontaneously combusted.

Yeah, Marie the Wealthy Widow was a nice distraction. Friendly flirtation, the possibility of something more, very casual, very low-key. Just how he liked it. None of this ridiculous Victorian dancing around each other like moths around a flame that Rey had going with Leesa. So maybe the Ellison case wasn't a dead loss.

"I don't get the problem," Rey said. "We tossed out his alibi, we got her blood in his car."

"Well, maybe this judge thinks Smoking Gun is a famous Indian chief," Lennie said.

"This judge is an idiot," McCoy said in disgust. "He took the Full Faith and Credit clause of the Constitution and tossed it into Santa Monica Bay."

"Maybe you should take up golf," Jamie said to him.

"If it would help I'll send for my clubs," Lennie suggested. God knew he didn't have much else to do. He checked his watch. "Anybody wanna grab a bite?"

"Not me, I'm booked for dinner," Rey said. Lennie glanced over at him. Yeah, booked - he'd been invited along to dinner with him and Leesa again, but had begged off. Rey would just have to defend his virtue all on his own.

"Quick, turn up the sound," McCoy said, looking at the TV where Neal Gorton, Newman's sleazy defense lawyer - and, incidentally, Jamie's ex - was mugging for the cameras.

"We're going to prove that the arrest warrant for my client is produced from evidence planted in his car," Gorton was telling reporters. They all glanced at each other, alarmed, as the broadcast continued, then Jamie pushed the MUTE button in disgust.

"Of all the bull..." Rey muttered.

"Who had access to the car?" McCoy asked.

"I'll call and see if we can get on the red-eye," Lennie said quickly. Too bad, so sad, Marie. Maybe she'd give him a call next time she was in New York.

9:25 pm

Rey gazed out at the marina, waiting for Leesa to come out from belowdecks. Nice out here. Really nice. Nice dinner, nice boat, calm soothing motion of the waves... he could almost forget the e-mail he'd received that afternoon.

----

From: dosicaol.com
To: rcurtisnypd.org
Subject: (blank)
Date: Thu, Jan 12, 1997 18:19:20 -0400

I'm not pregnant.
----

That was it. All that worrying, done. Nine days late. And no explanation - nothing about whether she'd done a test or gotten her period. Not even a phone call. Just an e-mail from that address that he hated because it was yet another calculated slap in the face. DOSIC: Deborah, Olivia, Serena, Isabel Curtis. His own initial carefully kept out of it.

He gazed out at the water. Leesa had called right after he'd received Deborah's e-mail, and he'd agreed to go to dinner and then go see her boat, not sure why he was doing so. Not sure why he didn't think of an excuse to duck out of it when Lennie declined to come along, muttering "Three's a crowd, Rey."

What the hell. Why was he even doing this to himself? This look-but-don't-touch with Leesa? Why was he fooling himself that there was any point to it, that there was anything left with Deborah?

There wasn't. And even if there was, he'd looked this up. "'Partial Divorce': Separation in New York State,' a very useful website. If they ever did patch things up again, by law Deborah couldn't hold anything he did during their separation against him. He had a perfect right to shack up with whomever he wanted to. As did Deborah.

So what if the Church thought otherwise.

So what if the Church said that even if they divorced, if years from now he married someone else, that marriage would be considered adultery. And as long as he remained in that second marriage, he could attend mass, but he couldn't receive the sacraments, confess or take communion, any more than anybody else in a state of sin could.

He tried to imagine that for a moment. Having to choose between marrying somebody he loved and the Church. Never again being able to confess, receive absolution. Never again receiving communion, feeling close to God.

What would that be like, as a parent? Daddy doesn't live with you any more, kids. Daddy has a new wife, and they sit at the back of the church. And according to some very reliable sources, when they die they're going straight to Hell.

No. He wouldn't have to make that choice, because Deborah would be only too happy to grant him an annulment. In fact, she would probably seek one first. The choice would be whether to go along with it or not. Stay single for life or commit perjury. Swear, before God, that what he and Deborah had shared had meant nothing, in order to free them both.

And what would it be like to know that he had to do that because he'd lost what little chance he had of patching up his marriage by once again committing adultery? Whether Deborah gave lip service to "you're free to do whatever you want now that we're separated" or not, she would never forgive a second betrayal.

Hell, she would never forgive the first betrayal, he thought bitterly. This was just stupidity, waiting for her to make up her mind to file for divorce and annulment. She was going to anyway - what was the point of staying faithful to a marriage that was gone in all but the fine print?

He sighed. Principles or stupidity. Lennie wasn't the only one who wondered where one ended and the other began. But... in the end, principles mattered. And whether he was permitted to do so by the laws of man or not, whether Deborah forgave him for it or not, in the Church and in his heart, where it really mattered, sleeping with Leesa right now would be a mortal sin and there was no getting around that.

You're playing with fire, his sister had said. And his mother had told him one mistake didn't wipe out a whole lifetime of living up to his principles.

What about two mistakes?

He was startled out of his brooding by Leesa appearing from belowdecks. Grateful for the distraction, he pushed all of those morose thoughts away and sat back, gesturing at the boat.

"It did not look this big in the photo. You take this out by yourself?"

"It's not set up for single-handing. Right now it's perfect for two," she handed him a glass and poured wine for him. "You like boats?"

"Well I've been on the ferry with my girls," he joked. "Ellis Island, Statue of Liberty..."

"Hm," Leesa smiled. "I bet your daughters are sweethearts."

"Mmm... most of the time..."

Leesa made a gesture and he made room for her next to him. She sat down. "So uh, Rey, you ever think about changing jobs?"

"Every Monday morning, why?"

"I talked to the head of security at the studio, he says they're looking for someone with your experience."

"To do what?"

"Background checks, special investigations... I don't know what you make now, but you would easily triple your salary."

Rey shook his head in slight disbelief. God, this was such a different world out here. "Sounds great, Leesa, but... I can't leave the kids."

"I - I wouldn't expect you to. LA is a great place to live if you're an orange, but you'd work out of New York, you would travel to movie locations all over the world..."

He shook his head again. No, this shouldn't sound tempting... "I don't know."

"No strings attached," Leesa clarified gently. He abruptly felt very uncomfortable, and checked his watch.

"Your plane is not for couple of hours."

"I know, but I - I should probably head back to the hotel..."

"Don't you want to sleep with me?" Leesa asked bluntly.

OK, no more dancing around this. He gazed at her, filled with regret. "Yes, I do. But..."

"It's just sex. It doesn't have to go anywhere."

"I wish it were that easy. I do," he repeated, knowing he could never express just how much he really did. "Thanks for your offer," he said, and immediately kicked himself - god, that had sounded unbelievably crass. "Your job offer," he clarified quickly.

Leesa looked away, and he could read the disappointment in her face. Yes, she knew what she'd been getting into. Getting involved with a married man. But it looked like it still hurt.

If only he'd known what he was getting into, getting involved with her. If only he'd known just how much he'd regret turning her down. And all for the sake of a marriage that was a lost cause anyway.

===

11:56 pm

"What's with you?" Lennie asked on the plane a few hours later. Rey had shown up at the hotel after dinner, introspective, distracted, and even more taciturn than usual. It was like he'd plain forgotten how to put more than two words together.

"Nothing," Rey answered automatically.

Lennie made an impatient sound. "Yeah, nothing. What else is new. Your 'nothing' is killing me. It's like working with a corpse. Oh wait, I do work with corpses. I just don't expect my partner to be one of them."

Rey gave a rueful chuckle, but didn't turn away from the window. Lennie waited for a minute or so, then gave up and decided to go to sleep. He leaned his chair back and closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable.

"Today I found out my wife's not pregnant, and then I got a hell of a job offer," Rey said out of the blue.

Lennie's eyes popped open. He stared at Rey, who was still looking out the window. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"You mean... when you were back home, you uh, you didn't take precautions?"

"We didn't have anything - doesn't matter anyway, she's not."

Lennie did some mental calculations. Typical - Rey had been worried about this for weeks, probably, and hadn't said a thing. "Well that's gotta be a hell of a relief."

"Yeah, it's a relief," Rey sighed. Lennie frowned. If that was what passed for relief with Rey these days, he'd hate to hear disappointment.

"Job offer?" Lennie asked.

"Yeah."

"What job offer?"

"In security, for the studio. Background checks, stuff like that. Triple my salary at least."

"No kidding?" Lennie said, impressed. "That's great!"

"Yeah."

"Working from LA?"

"No, New York. And traveling to movie locations."

"Great!"

"Yeah, great. I'm gonna grab some shut-eye," Rey leaned his seat back and closed his eyes, abruptly ending their conversation.

What the hell was with him? Lennie thought. An incredible job offer, and Rey had been more enthusiastic about picking through the garbage at the studio.

Takes all kinds, Lennie thought, once more realizing that there was just no deciphering Rey.

===

Friday, January 12
9:12 am

"So when are you gonna give Giuliani your two weeks notice?" Lennie asked the next day at the Forensics Garage.

"I ain't going anywhere."

"Yeah right," Lennie gestured around them. "Why give up all this for a six-figure income and free travel to exotic countries?"

"Come on, come on, lay off."

"Hey, Rey, I like working with you - but you gotta be nuts to turn down that job. Think of what you could do for your kids with that money-" Lennie broke off as the CSU tech showed up with the Newman car records.

Well, now that was interesting. Apparently Detective Miller, the cop who'd been called in for domestic disturbances when Ellison and Newman were married, had been in the garage before Newman's car was searched. Looking at another car in connection with a robbery. And the original record of his visit to the garage had been subpoenaed by somebody - three guesses who that somebody was, and here's a hint: he used to sleep with Jamie Ross.

Miller. God damn. Why would Miller have been near this car? And what the hell had he done to it?

"So why not?" Lennie picked up after they left the garage. "The job," he said, to Rey's puzzled look. Rey looked at him like he was particularly slow.

"You wanna tell me how I'd explain that one to my wife?"

"Why's Deborah gonna care where you work?" Lennie asked impatiently. "You wouldn't even be moving away from your kids-"

"She knows about Leesa."

"What?!" Lennie stopped in his tracks.

"I told her." Lennie stared at Rey, totally nonplussed. "What?"

"You told her... what? That you've been dating a beautiful woman but you haven't slept with her?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"What for?!"

"Because it's the truth."

"You haven't learned a thing, have you?" Lennie asked in amazement, shaking his head as they left the garage.

"I learned not to lie to my wife," Rey muttered. For all the good it had done him.

===

6:34 pm

Rey walked up to his sister's house on autopilot, hoping her asshole husband wasn't there. He did not need one more aggravation today - not after a poor night's sleep on the plane back, jetlag, and a very frustrating encounter with Miller.

They'd looked up the robbery case Miller was supposedly following at the Forensics garage. No relation to him whatsoever, beyond the fact that it was from his precinct. He'd had no reason to be in the garage the day Newman's car was brought in. But when they confronted him on it, he'd basically told them to go to hell. Rey had almost taken a swing at him, he'd been so angry. Luckily Lennie had stepped in and prevented him from doing more than shoving Miller, but it still hadn't done any good. The son of a bitch had been subpoenaed by Newman's defense, he wouldn't admit to having done anything wrong, and they were all still going to have to work like hell to do some damage control.

Rey unlocked the door, walked into Lisa's living room, and stopped short.

Deborah. Sitting with Lisa, having tea. He stared at her as Lisa quickly got up and left the room with a mumbled, "I'll leave you two alone."

"Hi," Deborah said nervously after a long silence.

"Hi." There was another long pause.

"I asked Lisa to let me know when you came into town. I uh... I want - I want to talk to you."

"Talk to me? Or fight with me?" he asked bluntly, too tired and out of sorts to tiptoe around her feelings as he had been doing since this whole mess began.

"Talk to you. Can you... can you sit down?"

"Fine." He warily sat down.

Deborah was silent for so long he was starting to wonder if he should maybe say something when she blurted, "I - I haven't been giving the counseling a chance. I've just been using it to get back at you."

He gazed at her for a moment.

"I... I'd like to go back to counseling. And, and actually try to work on this. I'm not making any promises, but I'll try."

God damn it.

Be careful what you wish for, he thought numbly, you just might get it. For all the praying and hoping he'd done in the last few months, for all he'd wanted to hear her say something like this, that she wanted to try to fix things, now that she was finally saying it...

God damn it. He was finally starting to be OK with this, so of course, what better time for Deborah to show up like this... he stared at the floor.

She wasn't making any guarantees, and of course, she wouldn't. She was too honest for that. She was just offering to try. To go back to the mess and the pain and the heartache that was their counseling, but this time try to make something out of it. Try to fix a marriage that neither one was sure could be fixed any more. A marriage that, even if they "fixed" it, would never be the same as it had been before.

Rey rubbed his eyes tiredly, knowing Deborah was waiting for him to say something, not knowing what the hell she wanted him to say.

"Rey?" she said softly, her voice nervous.

"What?"

"Do... do you want to go back to counseling?" she asked quickly, twisting her hands together. He shrugged, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

It would be so simple to just walk away, say the hell with it, give it up. And he realized with tired disbelief that that was exactly what he most wanted to do at this particular moment in time. Let it go, 'cause man, it's gone, his brother had said, and Lennie had been saying the same thing from the beginning as well. Just start over, get on with his life, divorce was not the end of the world. Just be young and unattached.

Except that he wasn't. He'd taken vows and even though he'd broken them, he had meant them when he said them. He supposed he still did. And he still had three children who meant more to him than anything else. They didn't deserve any of what had happened. They did deserve his best efforts at fixing this situation.

And he'd never forgive himself if he walked away now.

Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it. Just when divorce was beginning to look like freedom, like the end of penance instead of a penance in and of itself...

He took a deep breath and nodded. OK.

===

Monday, January 22
10:03 am

Lennie glanced around the pleasant little business in Mount Kisco as he and Rey talked to their witnesses. Their latest case, which had started with an ex-cop shot dead with his own gun, in his car at a hooker's stroll - and, incidentally, left hanging out of his pants - had led them around and around and finally to this little Westchester house: Fox Hills Décor, where one of the two ladies running the place claimed to have met the vic to discuss decorating work for the vic's company.

But something was just not right about it. It smelled like... like these ladies were not charging for the services they claimed. Call it cynicism, call it sixth sense, call it working Vice for six years.

Call it a relief, getting out of the damned Ellison case. The entire case had gone down the drain. Jamie had called last Thursday to let them know that the goddamn judge had thrown out their evidence on Newman, because the defense had pretty much proven that Detective Ass-for-brains Miller had planted the evidence. Why? Well, Miller had been called to the Newman-Ellison residence a few times, when Newman beat the crap out of Ellison. Ellison wanted to press charges. Newman begged Miller to mediate, and promised to help him win fame and fortune in Hollywood - screenplays, whatever. Miller had talked Ellison down, but Newman, surprise surprise, had not returned Miller's calls afterwards and finally threatened to call Miller's supervisors if he didn't piss off.

So then Newman's arrested for killing Ellison. Who knew whether Miller felt sorry he'd prevented Newman from being arrested back before he graduated from wife-beating to wife-killing, or whether he was just taking revenge for Newman not returning his calls and frustrating his rise to stardom, but Miller had taken strands from a beige silk blouse taken in as evidence in one of the Newman/Ellison brawls, and planted the fibers in Newman's car.

It didn't matter that, as far as anybody could tell, Miller had nothing to do with the drops of Ellison's blood in the trunk of Newman's car. That Miller had nothing to do with Newman lying about being in New York at the time of Ellison's death, or being in the area where the barong was found. None of that mattered. What mattered was Miller planted some evidence in the car, and so all their car evidence was suspect, and so they didn't have enough evidence for an arrest, and so Newman was free to go.

Sleazy lawyers and stupid cops. They made law enforcement just about impossible.

The one bright spot had come from McCoy, of all people. "Speak up, Your Honour, there's some people in the Bronx who didn't hear you," McCoy had said to the judge when he realized the judge was about to toss their warrant, despite McCoy arguing that only a New York judge was entitled to decide whether a New York warrant was valid or invalid. The judge had fined McCoy two thousand for contempt and ruled against him anyway, but McCoy's remark had apparently had wide play in the local media - and in New York, too.

Rey and Lennie had laughed and declared that sometimes, they could almost like McCoy.

Well, hopefully nothing would derail their current case. The first thing was to tie this nice so-called decorator to their vic, maybe get her fingerprints, see if they matched the victim's car. And then she gave him a perfect opportunity.

"Need any decorating? No job too small," she smiled.

"Well, uh, my partner's thinking about getting a new place, uh, he might need some help," he said to her.

"Yeah, you don't have a card, do you?" Rey stepped in smoothly, following Lennie's cue. He took the brochure their witness handed to him and studied it with interest.

"So what do you think?" Rey asked as they left.

"I think they're lying. They met with the security chief to discuss decorating?"

"I just hope we can get prints off of this." They made their way to the car. "So, Lennie, that stuff about me needing help decorating, that was just to get her to hand me a brochure, right?" Lennie looked at him curiously. "'Cause you know I know how to put together a room." Lennie chuckled as he got in.

"Yeah, I want her prints. I think she was in his car servicing him. I think they're both call girls."

Rey looked back at Fox Hills Décor in surprise, then turned to Lennie. "Call girls? Those two?"

"Think about it, Rey. The vic didn't have anything to do with decorating. And the trail leading from him to them had more twists and turns than a soap opera. And we know he was into hookers."

Rey looked at him askance. "That's a pretty far reach, Lennie."

"Wanna make it interesting?" Lennie grinned. And grinned wider when Rey shook his head, declining to get into yet another losing bet.

"So you find a place yet?"

"Yeah, found one this weekend after I had the girls. I'm gonna sign the lease Thursday. Oh that reminds me, can you drop me off at Deborah's tonight? I gotta pick up some of my stuff."

===

Tuesday, January 23
9:10 am

"Morning," Lennie said absently as Rey sat down at his desk. Rey made some sort of acknowledging sound and immediately took out a file containing Fox Hills clients to interview.

"Oh, Jamie Ross just called. They searched Burger's private plane over the weekend and found Ellison's ring in the toilet. So the judge granted the extradition yesterday."

"Good," Rey murmured, not looking up.

"And Miller's suspended - IAB's getting on his case. None of the stuff we found in Newman's car is gonna be used in the trial, but the DA still wants to bury him."

"Good," Rey said again, and turned a page. Lennie waited a beat, sure that some patented Rey-rant against Miller would be forthcoming, but Rey just sat there, his head buried in the file. Lennie mentally shrugged and turned back to his own work.

"Lennie, did you call Latent about the prints on that brochure?"

"I thought you were gonna do that."

"No, I thought you were. You said you would."

"I said I'd type up the notes on the ladies of Fox Hills. Didn't say anything about Latent."

Rey sighed. "Fine, I'll do it."

Lennie narrowed his eyes. What was going on with Rey? "Did you bring back the ME's report on Keene from your place?"

"Uh... no, I, I didn't have time."

Didn't have time? To pick up a piece of paper? Lennie suddenly took in Rey's appearance.

"You didn't go home last night, did you?" Rey looked up at him, startled.

"What?"

"You didn't go back to your sister's last night." Rey's body language immediately became defensive. "You're wearing yesterday's clothes."

Rey looked down, ignoring Lennie, face colouring slightly. Lennie considered his young partner's expression, closed off and uncomfortable, but not guilty-looking. Which could only mean one thing.

"Sex with the ex is not a good idea, Rey," Lennie ventured. Rey gave a slight sigh and kept his eyes on the paper in front of him. Yeah, he'd guessed it. "You OK?" Rey hesitated, then shook his head silently and turned the page. Lennie waited a beat. "Wanna talk about it?" Rey shook his head again, still concentrating on his work. No surprise there. "Well, I'm here if you change your mind."

"Thanks," Rey said laconically.

Poor dumb kid, Lennie thought. Probably feeling like crap. He thought over the few times he'd gone back to his second wife - the combination of confusion, frustration, disappointment and anger at himself that Rey was feeling were almost palpable.

"Let's go," he said, abruptly getting up.

"What?" Rey asked, startled.

"I wanna go talk to other people who've been in contact with the women of Mount Kisco. See if they're actually call girls." And get you out of the precinct and jar you out of this mood, he thought to himself. Because I'm not gonna slog through yet another day trying to work with a wet blanket.

===

Rey suppressed his impatience as he waited for Lennie to finish making notes from their latest witness interview. Trying not to think about last night, but of course, unable to think of anything else. Wishing Lennie would hurry the hell up so that he could get his mind back on the job.

Last night had been pretty much a replay of the first time, except that thanks to their trip to the drug store last time, at least they didn't have to wait anxiously for her period again like a couple of errant teenagers.

The morning after had been different too. He'd been woken up by Deborah, sitting on the bed, already in a bathrobe, her eyes reddened. Had taken one look at her face and known that they weren't staying together - she looked like she'd been crying. He'd closed his eyes and groaned.

"No, come on," he'd said hopelessly, covering his face with his arm.

Deborah had cleared her throat. "I think you need to leave before the girls wake up."

"Deborah, for God's sake-"

"Last time confused them. I don't want to put them through that again."

"But you don't mind putting me through it," he'd said bitterly. "Christ, Deborah."

"I'm sorry," she'd whispered, and he'd looked at her. She hadn't said that since this mess began - he'd been the one apologizing over and over. "I want - I want things to be OK, but they're not. I can't pretend," her voice trembled, and he sat up, reaching out to comfort her. She drew away. Back to the dark side of the moon. Back to their separate corners, last night's brief reprieve effectively over.

She'd wiped her eyes and said, "I'll let you get dressed," and left the room. Like last night never happened. Like they were strangers who shouldn't see each other unclothed. His own wife.

And he'd dressed and left, like a thief in the night, exchanging awkward goodbyes with Deborah, so that the girls wouldn't know that Daddy had spent the night in the same house as them. Because after all, he didn't belong there any more.

===

Friday, January 26
7:30pm

"What the fuck, how come you're living here?" Jorge said, walking into the small apartment Rey had just signed for. Back in town for the weekend, he'd offered to help Rey move his things from Lisa's and from the church storage room to his new place.

"What? It's clean, it's not in a bad neighbourhood," Rey put down the boxes he was carrying. "And it's furnished."

"It's fucking tiny."

"This is New York. Everything's tiny. Besides, I don't need a bigger place."

"Come on, you can afford better than this."

"Not after I pay Deborah, I can't."

"Pay Deborah? What the hell are you paying her for?"

"Alimony? Child support? Remember?"

"She's a Pequot, she's got her own money - bro, if anything, she oughtta be paying you."

"Oh come on-" Rey began impatiently.

"No, you come on. Are you seriously paying her alimony?"

"She doesn't have a job."

"So she can damn well get a job."

"No way. She's staying home with the kids. They need her."

"You ever hear of day care?"

"Kids need a parent at home."

Jorge stared at him in disbelief. "OK, fine, you're still living in the fifties, whatever. Doesn't mean you need to shell out your lousy cop income to a woman who makes more from that casino than-"

"It's not that much money. She can't live off of it."

"She doesn't need to bleed you dry so you gotta live here."

"Yeah, she does, if the kids are gonna have the kind of life they had before."

"You're kidding me."

"I'm not making my kids suffer any more than they have to."

"Rey, some day you're gonna want a nice place for yourself. If nothing else, bringing a chick to a little closet like this is no way to impress her." Rey opened up a box and tried to figure out where to put its contents, ignoring Jorge. "Or are you still thinking you're gonna toe the Catholic party line and live like a monk the rest of your life? Has it occurred to you that some day you're gonna wanna go on dates like a regular single guy?"

Rey suppressed the desire to shut his brother up by letting him know that yes, as a matter of fact, it had occurred to him. And he had actually dated somebody. And they were still calling each other about once a week or so. That might not impress Jorge, but it just might wipe that condescending smirk off his face.

Yeah, OK, trying to impress his brother. That was about as stupid as taking Lennie's relationship advice seriously. Here's a rule of thumb, Rey told himself: if there's something going on in your life that Jorge or Lennie would approve of, it's probably a bad thing. Stop it.

Not that easy when it came to staying in contact with Leesa. Not only was he not doing anything wrong... it was awfully hard to cut off all contact with a person he really enjoyed talking to. A person who took away the frustration of trying to make things work with Deborah, with a marriage that seemed to be permanently stuck in limbo.

Despite the fact that Deborah really did seem to be trying in counseling, they were going around in circles. Had been for weeks. Every time, the same arguments, the same issues. The same stalled "I love you but I don't trust you." The same petty arguments about the girls. Both of them getting on each other's nerves, no closer to reconciliation than they had been a few weeks ago.

And then there was Leesa. Venting about her job, trading e-mails about interesting factoids, making him smile. Uncomplicated. Interesting. Always with that light edge of casual flirting, which he told himself was safe because she was on the other side of the continent.

Say no to that? Not likely.