If Allison faced any ill consequences for being late to work, she didn't mention them to Dubenko as they both slunk out of the hospital later that evening. Neither one was in the best of moods as they said little on the drive back to Dubenko's house.

"How was your day, Chapman?" Lee Dubenko asked as he got into the compact car.

"I survived. Now I go home and get bombarded with bridesmaid duties. Tomorrow I call in dead." She leaned forward in the driver's seat and let her head come to rest on the steering wheel.

Dubenko reached over and patted her back in sympathy. "You can stay at my place if you want; I have a feeling that Sophie will be spending the evening in her room compiling the many reasons as to why her life sucks and then devising my early termination after I get through talking to her."

"I'd like to stay for that festival of fun, Lee, but I have it on good authority that a certain homicide detective will toss me in the clink if I even think of leaving him to fend for himself with Bridezilla tonight."

"He wanted to marry her, he should get used to it now."

"You have a point. I'm still calling in dead tomorrow."

"That may be problematic when you do decide to go back to work, don't you think?"

"Keep your logic and reasoning to yourself, please."

As they pulled into the driveway, Allison shot a questioning look at Dubenko. "Are you sure you want me here, Lee?"

"She's going to knock it off, Allison, one way or the other. I'm tired of this, really and truly tired of it. She is also going to apologize to you for her churlish behavior."

Lee left Allison in the living room as he headed upstairs to find his daughter. She was, as he had guessed, in her room. Sophie looked up from the book she was reading and gave her father a warm smile. It quickly faded as she saw the incensed look on his face.

"Papa?" She sat up and placed her index finger in the book to mark her place. "What's wrong?"

Dubenko quietly and calmly closed the bedroom door and moved towards the center of the room before speaking. "Why don't you tell me, Sophia Marie?" His hazel eyes narrowed to a steely gaze that settled on the teen.

"Um…yeah, my crystal ball isn't working today, Papa. How about a little clue?"

"I'm not in the mood for your flippancy, Soph. What did you say to Allison this morning?"

"I don't remember. Morning? Hey? Hi? Hello? Something. I've slept since then, I don't really remember. Must not have been that important."

Dubenko crouched down so that he was on equal eye level with his daughter, steadying himself by placing his hands on the bed on either side of Sophie. His voice was low and resolute as he spoke. "Quit playing games with me. I'm not buying the ignorant act. What did you say to her? More significantly, why did you say it?"

Sophie stared at her father, her eyes wide and her bottom lip trembling as she realized just how angry he was. It was seldom that she saw him this enraged, even rarer still that his anger was focused at her. "I…I…Papa, I didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't serious. I—"

"Oh Sophie, I think you did mean it. I think you intentionally set out to upset Allison, insult her and try to drive a wedge between us. You forget just how well I know you. I know how you operate, how you think and I know that you are back pedaling just as fast as your little mind can turn its gears." He emphasized his last words by taping his index finger against her brow. It wasn't a kind gesture. Dubenko chewed his bottom lip as he continued his intense eye contact with his daughter.

Sophie looked at her hands, over her father's shoulder, out the window…anywhere but his eyes as she tried to come up with a response. She started absently plucking at the comforter she was sitting on as she looked around the room, startling when she felt her father's firm, warm hand close over hers. "Papa…I, look, I know you're mad at me, okay? Fine. Why don't you just yell and get it over with? I don't like her. Is that what you want me to say? I don't like her and I don't want to spend time with her. Happy now?"

Dubenko clenched his jaw in response to his daughter's words. "I don't want to yell at you, Sophia. I shouldn't have to. You are an adult, nearly twenty years old, as you like to remind me. And yet, you persist with this utterly juvenile behavior. It's uncalled for, unbecoming and you are better than that. You were raised better than that." He took a deep breath and stood up, releasing her hand as he did so. "I can't make you like Allison, I can't make you spend time with her, but I damned well can make you see the consequences of your actions. Either you grow up and stop this sophomoric campaign you have been on or I'll change your flight arrangements and you can leave tonight. I'm through humoring you; I'm done making excuses for your behavior and I'm done with letting you have free reign over my personal life. It's not up to you, Sophie, who I see and who I don't see. You don't get to make that choice, baby, I do. It's my life."

He stopped talking and looked at his daughter. Noticing the tears running down her cheeks Dubenko pulled a few tissues out of the box on the nearby dresser and handed them to Sophia. "I never used to think anything of the fact that I confided in you, Sophie, that I shared so much of my life with you. I like being able to do that. I want to be able to talk to you about things, but lately I feel like I made a mistake in doing so. You aren't one of my colleagues or peers, you are my daughter and sometimes I think you lose sight of that boundary line. This time you've gone way over it, Soph, and I'm putting an end to it."

Sophia looked up at her father, her teary eyes flashing with anger to match his own. "I can't believe you'd choose her over me. You'd really make me leave? So much for 'This is your home too, Soph. I want you here, for as long as you want to stay.' Then again, I guess you don't need me anymore…do you Papa? You have Allie to talk to, to confide in. And better still, here's where I can't compete, you have Allie to keep you company at night. I hope she's good Papa. I hope she's real—"

"Sophia!" Dubenko bellowed in outrage, causing the ranting girl to instantly cease speaking. "I'm not discussing this any further with you. Either you knock it off and apologize to Allison, sincerely apologize, and act like the civilized person your mother and I raised or you will be cutting this visit very short."

"Now you mention Mom? That's rich. Really, after the way you shoved her picture face down in your desk—didn't think I'd notice that, did you? Was that so your precious Allison wouldn't be threatened or was it just easier for you to forget about Mom that way?"

Lee Dubenko rounded on his daughter angrily, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You are really starting to make me angry, Sophia."

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Papa?"

Dubenko grabbed his daughter by the chin and forced her to look at him as he leaned in close. "You want the truth, Sophia? The truth is that you are a spoiled little girl so used to having things go your way that you can't cope when a situation is out of your control." He let go and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Sophia moved back from the edge of her bed and buried her face in her pillows before starting to cry in earnest. Her father had never spoken to her with such vehemence before, never said anything so deliberately hurtful to her and she didn't know how to react.

Not knowing what else to do, Dubenko simply walked out of his daughter's room, closing the door behind him with an audible thud. He stood on the other side of the door, his eyes closed and head lowered. Sophie's sobs, though muffled by pillows and the closed door, still reached his ears. He hated that sound more than anything. Hated that this time, he had caused the tears, the hurt that she was feeling.

Lee Dubenko had woken up with a start. It was barely six in the morning and his bedroom was still cloaked in a somber gray light. Shifting slightly on the bed, he looked down at the sleeping rumpled form of his daughter. Just as she had the two previous nights, fourteen-year-old Sophia Dubenko had cried herself to sleep in her father's arms.

The first night he had let her stay in bed with him, more for his own selfish needs than hers. He didn't want to let her out of his sight, out of his arms. Part of his mind insisted that he was in shock and not thinking rationally after his wife's death. The other part of his mind told the first half to go to hell.

The next night, he had held onto the young girl, rocking her and murmuring soothing reassurances into her hair. Once she was asleep he carried her slight form down the hall and put her in her own bed. She woke up hours later screaming in terror. It took Dubenko most of the night to calm her down.

Last night he didn't have the heart to carry her back to her room again and simply let her stay where she was. He didn't sleep, but lay there and watched Sophie's fitful slumber. Occasionally she'd whimper and mutter in her sleep, and Dubenko would stroke her wild mane of curly hair until she'd settle down again.

He couldn't quite imagine the horrors his child was dreaming of, the images that caused her to cry out in her sleep. He wouldn't let himself. Had it only been three days ago that their world had been turned upside down? Sophie had come home from school and found her mother's beaten and broken body lying lifeless and bloody on the kitchen floor. The random act of violence hadn't merely cost Martina Dubenko her life, but it also left her family raw and devastated. Sophie was Lee's only focus and in the moments when he was alone he was simply numb, lost.

Turning his head on the pillow, Dubenko inhaled deeply. He was lying on Marti's side of the bed, the place where she'd slept for years. Her pillow still held her scent, the shampoo she used, the lotion, something that could only be defined as Marti. He closed his eyes and pictured his wife, the way she'd curl up on her side facing him at night. He could almost hear her whispered "goodnight" as he pressed his face against the cool linen pillowcase. Just as abruptly, the image changed and he saw her face as it was now, the bones crushed and her hair bloodied and matted. Unrecognizable.

He sat up, careful to not wake his daughter, and got out of bed. He knew he wouldn't get any more rest. Letting Sophie sleep, Dubenko showered and dressed. The dark suit he wore reflected the early morning gloom and his mood.

Looking at the clock on the nightstand, Dubenko sat next to his daughter and shook her gently. "Baby, wake up. Come on, Sophie Monster, I need you to get dressed. We have to leave soon." Sleepy hazel eyes met his own tired ones and he tried to smile at her, but he couldn't quite manage it. Today he was going to do the hardest thing he had ever faced. He had to bury his wife. He had no reason to smile.

Lee put his hand on the doorknob and thought about going back in to his daughter's room to apologize. Sophie was still crying, but now instead of loud sobs he could hear quiet sniffling. I'm sorry, baby. The truth does hurt, doesn't it? He forced himself to walk away and back down the stairs again. Allison was still waiting for him and he was determined not to cave in where Sophia was concerned.

Allison had been roaming around the somber living room of the Dubenko household while father and daughter argued on the floor above. She studied the picture frames the skilled surgeon had haphazardly placed around the room on end tables and the mantle as she tried to ignore the muffled sound of his irate voice. She never would have guessed that Dubenko had that sort of temper. He was always so easy going and genial.

She noticed that many of the photographs in the room were older and mostly of his daughter, Sophia. There were several shots of father and daughter together over the years, always smiling, always in each other's arms. Allison couldn't help but smile as she looked at the images; they were evidently very close. Moving over to the large roll top desk that sat against the far wall, she noticed a picture frame that had been turned face down on the blotter. Curiosity getting the better of her, Allison turned it over and considered the subject matter with mixed emotions.

A woman, maybe in her mid thirties, was sitting in the sand and looking out towards crashing waves on the horizon. The glass covering the photograph was smudged with fingerprints, as if someone had been caressing the woman's face. Allison knew that someone must have been Lee. She couldn't help but wonder if this woman or the younger one upstairs was the one with whom she was competing. Or why she felt compelled to do so in the first place.

She looked up at the ceiling as she heard Lee Dubenko bellow his daughter's name and couldn't help but wonder just what was being said between the two. Looking back at the photo still in her hands, Allison began to really examine the subject matter. Martina Dubenko wasn't what she'd classify as a beautiful woman, but there was something striking about her. Maybe it was the look of contentment she had on her face, almost a sense of inner peace that radiated from her as she studied something just out of the camera's view.

Allison decided that Sophia definitely took after her father in the looks department. Martina's hair was long and straight, albeit windblown in this picture. Her face was pleasant and round; she obviously hadn't been a slender woman. Allison wasn't sure why she was critiquing the deceased woman's physical appearance, mentally noting how different the late doctor appeared in contrast to what she had imagined. Compared to herself.

She heard a door close and a few minutes later the sound of footfalls in the stairwell. Allison was still standing at the desk with the photograph in her hands when Lee Dubenko entered the room. She momentarily held her breath as he moved towards her, surprised when he merely wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. He kissed the side of her neck before resting his cheek against her hair and sighed deeply. Dubenko only then seemed to notice the picture frame she held. Silently he took it from her grasp and sat it back on the desk blotter, this time face up, then he pulled the roll top closed.

He stood there, in front of her, looking lost in thoughts of someplace, or someone far away. Dubenko's hands went to the hem of his sweater, which he tugged and twisted as his eyes focused once again on the slender woman watching him. He chewed the inside of his cheek and continued to contort the material in his hands as if the physical activity would somehow erase the awkwardness of the moment.

"I don't know about you, Chapman, but I need a drink." He finally spoke and adjusted his glasses, giving her a weak smile.

Allison followed the curly haired man into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as he searched the overhead cabinets. Seeming to give up his quest, Dubenko pulled two coffee mugs off the shelf above the sink and set them at her elbow. He then pulled a slender black and silver labeled bottle from the back of his freezer.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she recognized the somewhat expensive brand of vodka. "Stoli?"

"Stolichnaya elit…if you are going to imbibe, may as well be worth drinking." He opened the bottle and looked dubiously at the coffee mugs. "My Dedushka would have my hide for doing this."

"Your what?" She fixed him with a puzzled look.

"Dedushka, grandfather. First for pouring vodka into my coffee cup and then for not having any rye bread in the house."

"Hey, you're talking to someone who actually likes drinking that wine in a box stuff. Usually out of paper cups."

"That's disgusting, Chapman. Remind me to introduce you to a good bottle of wine sometime." He offered her one of the mugs that contained no more than a shot's worth of liquid. "Za vashe zdorov'ye!" He raised his mug to hers, clinking them together, then tossed back the drink in one gulp.

"Bless you?" She quirked one eyebrow at him as she sipped the vodka.

Dubenko laughed. "It means 'to your health', Allie. Za vashe zdorov'ye." He repeated the toast once more.

"Oh. Is that Russian? You speak it fluently?" She had wondered about the origin of his last name but never asked.

"I can muddle through. My Dedushka, my father's father, immigrated when he was a teenager. He tried to teach me the language but my mother usually thwarted his attempts. Of course that only made me all the more determined to learn." He had a mischievous light in his eyes when he grinned at her.

"Rotten child?" Allison teased as she played with the cold bottle of alcohol.

"Willful. It runs in the family." He looked towards the stairs as he said this, thinking of his own headstrong offspring. "Between her mother's Irish temper and my Russian pride, she really didn't stand a chance."

"Is she okay?" Allison couldn't help but feel bad for the girl after hearing Dubenko's muffled invective. She realized that she never wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper.

"She will be. Sophia never has liked being told she was wrong. Nor is she particularly fond of having to share my attention with anyone." He gave Allison a meaningful look and reached out to caress her cheek. "The former will never change, but she is going to have to learn to deal with the latter."

She turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand gently and murmured against his warm skin, "Thank you."

Dubenko dropped his hand to take the bottle of vodka from Allison. As he poured more of the chilled drink into their cups he spoke in an offhand manner. "There's an old Russian tradition stating that an open bottle must be finished." He handed her one of the mugs and touched it gently with his own. "Za vas. To you."

"Za vas." She repeated the words slowly and gave him a shaky smile as she again sipped at the drink.

"Ochen' harasho, very good. You know, Allie, vodka should be tossed back, not sipped." He went to refill her mug and she covered the top with her hand. "It's also very rude to decline to drink with your host."

"I have to drive home, Lee. Besides, last time I checked we were in Chicago, not Moscow."

"Kiev. My Dedushka was from Kiev. As for driving home, forget it, Chapman. It's late and you've already had enough to drink to impair your motor skills." He removed her hand from the top of the mug and poured another round.

He then set his own mug on the counter along with the bottle. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out a block of cheese and a bunch of grapes that he laid on a clean plate.

Allison watched as Dubenko carefully and quickly sliced the cheese into thin slivers and arranged them around the perimeter of the plate. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"You were calling in to work dead tomorrow anyway, as I recall." He was wrapping a grape in a piece of cheese as he talked, then popped it in her mouth as she started to protest. "Here, eat something, Chapman."

He picked up the plate of food and their mugs and headed into the living room. "Bring the bottle with you."

She followed him into the next room and sat with him on the sofa. He had taken his shoes off and placed one sock covered foot in her lap, the other resting on the floor as he sat sideways on the overstuffed piece of furniture. Dubenko smiled at her as he meticulously peeled a grape, dropping the skin back on the plate and popping the fruit into his mouth.

Allison had to laugh; she'd never seen him quite this relaxed before. The alcohol must have been having an effect on the normally reserved man. She idly wondered just how it was affecting her as well. "You aren't really serious about finishing this whole bottle, are you?"

"No, but it could be fun to try. Are you game, Allie?" He wiggled his toes at her and gave her an expectant look.

Shoving his foot off her lap, she picked up her coffee mug and tossed back the contents in one gulp. She then sputtered until her eyes watered and Dubenko moved to pat her on the back.

"Careful. That takes some practice."

"And how long have you been practicing, oh wise one?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I was sixteen the first time Dedushka asked me to share a bottle with him. I think he managed to get four shots in me before I hit the floor. I woke up the next morning convinced that my head was going to fall off. When my mother eventually found out, I wished that it had."

Feeling more than a little tipsy herself at this point, Allison giggled at him. "Wow, my grandpa was never that cool."

"I think he did it mainly to get a rise out of my mother. He never cared for her much."

"Why?"

"Back then? I don't really know. Later, mostly because of the way she treated Marti." Dubenko was pushing food around on the plate and not looking at Allison as he spoke. "My mother didn't approve of my choice in a girlfriend and later on, wife. A farmer's daughter who put herself through school by way of scholarships, grants, loans and working part time offended upper class socialite sensibilities. She was never willing to see Marti for the remarkable person she had been."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Allison felt bad for bringing up what was obviously an unpleasant subject for him.

"Don't be. It isn't your fault that Felicia Windham—she never did take my father's name—is such a shallow creature."

"What was she like?"

"My mother?"

"No. Marti."

Lee Dubenko looked at Allison, his hazel eyes teaming with mixed emotion. "Allison…please, don't ask me about Marti. I can't really think about her without thinking about losing her and I don't want to revisit that horror tonight." He poured himself another drink, a more generous one than the previous three he had consumed.

Allison looked remorseful for letting her curiosity get the better of her, but she couldn't help but wonder just how Dubenko had been widowed. Had she been ill? Was there an accident? Sighing, she simply placed her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Lee, I can't seem to say anything right tonight." She took the mug from him and drank from it before handing it back. "Can I make a bit of a confession?"

He drained the mug and looked at her, his curiosity piqued. "What sort of confession, Chapman?"

"You know earlier, when you were speaking Russian? I thought that was really sexy." She blushed and continued on. "Would you say something else?"

Thoughtful, Dubenko sat back on the sofa and pulled her with him. One arm wrapped around her, he held her close and whispered in her ear. "Ti takaya chudesnaya. Vy menya panimayete? Mne nikogda v zshizni nebeelo tak harasho."

The warmth of his breath in her ear caused Allison to shudder as he spoke softly. The dulcet tones of his voice made the unfamiliar words sound melodic and pleasant. "Will you tell me what that means, Lee?"

"I said that you are wonderful and I want you to understand that I haven't felt this good in a long time." He was looking at her now, running his fingers through her hair. "Come here, Chapman." Dubenko tilted his head to one side and kissed her softly. He began trailing warm wet kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck.

Allison shifted in his embrace and moved to return his kisses, but instead of kissing the affectionate man she knocked heads with him. "Ow."

"Let's try that again, shall we, Chapman?" Dubenko murmured as he took hold of her face and tilted her chin up to kiss her once more.

"You are much better at this than me." As if to prove her point, she again moved to kiss his mouth and got his chin by mistake.

"No more vodka for you, lightweight," he teased and captured her mouth with his.

"Mmm, then what are we going to do? I thought we had to finish the bottle."

"We tried. We failed. We can try something else."

"Like what?"

"Maybe I'll teach you some Russian instead."

"I was a pretty lousy student in school. Never did manage to learn much in Spanish class."

"Maybe you just need a good teacher."

"Are you a good teacher?"

"I do hold the title of professor at the Virginia Medical Center University."

"Are you going to make me call you Professor?"

"Would you?"

"I think I'd get awfully confused, Doctor. Professor. Doctor Professor. See?"

"You're cute when you're drunk, Allie."

"I'm not drunk. Just…fuzzy."

"Well then, you are cute when you're fuzzy."

"I thought you were going to teach me some Russian."

"Oh, well, let me see." Dubenko studied her carefully for a moment and then gave her a lopsided smirk. He reached for the top button of her blouse and unfastened it. "Nol. Adin. Dva. Chityri." As he spoke each word, he undid another button. He never took his eyes off Allison's face the entire time he was counting.

"I'm going to run out of buttons here, Lee."

"That's okay, we still have my shirt to work with. Pyat. Shest. Sem. Vosim. Devit. Desit." As he popped the last button, he looked down at her now open shirt and stared at her appraisingly before slipping his hands under the soft cotton fabric and caressing her bared skin.

Allison inhaled sharply at the touch of his warm hands on her torso. "Now what are you doing?"

"I thought that was rather obvious." His left hand was sliding up her back. He pushed her back gently until the redhead was lying on the sofa and he was leaning over her. "I'm bored with counting—"

The two, in their somewhat inebriated state, fumbled and squirmed on the sofa as they tried to clumsily undress each other. They finally settled for groping and kissing after Dubenko nearly fell off the sofa while trying to unbutton his own shirt as he straddled a giggling Allison.

"The last time I did this I was in high school." She laughed as he swore under his breath as he knocked his glasses off his face while reaching to turn off the lone lamp in the room.

"I was too busy trying to muster up the courage to even talk to a girl in high school, let alone undress her, Chapman."

"Well, I'm glad you got over that stumbling block, Doctor." She pulled him down until they were nose to nose. "Know what the best part of making out like this is? No parents to catch us."

They both neglected to remember Dubenko's daughter upstairs as they laughed quietly and continued to mutually explore each other with hands and mouths. It wasn't until much later, after they had fallen still in a tangle of half worn clothing, entwined limbs and throw pillows that the stray thought occurred to the doctor. Unfortunately he was to tired to really be concerned about it as he pressed his face to Allison's neck and drifted off into a drunken slumber.