Author's Note: alright, here's this chapter of FS. Sad to say, but I think there's only one more chapter (and possibly a epilogue) of this fic left. The end kinda snuck up on me.

I also want to let you all know that I'm putting PS on hold while I finish writing this fic and Days. I need the time to consider the plot of that story as I'm not really writing it with a goal in mind. I'm not deserting it, but I do need to spend some time developing it. Sorry to disappoint those fans, but it has to be done if I don't want to spend the next 100 pages of the fic rambling.

Also…I've started a LiveJournal account. For those of you who like that sort of thing, I've put the address in my FFN profile, so you can look me up.

Author's thanks at the end as always. Enjoy this chapter.

"You're sure about this." It was less question than a last ditch attempt to keep his headstrong fiancée from going in to see her homicidal ex, but Ted felt like he had to try. But all he got for his pains was icy silence.

He sighed. "You know I don't like you getting so personally involved in all this, Amy. I mean, he did try to kill you."

This time Amy was the one to sigh as she waited for the elevator to stop. "Do we really have to have this discussion again, Ted? I know what Mort tried to do. I was there. And you don't believe me when I say that he wasn't."

"Amy, it's statements like that that make me worry about you. You're obsessing about this; creating excuses for him." Ted took hold of Amy's shoulders and made her look at him. "Saying that he wasn't really there is nonsense. Nonsense. Next you'll be telling me that it wasn't really him who killed those other men either. But it's not true. He did it. Mort was the only one who did it."

"Actually –" This interruption snapped Amy's almost hypnotized attention away from Ted, to his irritation. Carly on the other hand couldn't have been more pleased. "Actually, I believe that the evidence linking Mr. Rainey to the other two homicides is purely circumstantial."

"Dr. Beckham," Ted said grudgingly as he stepped aside to allow Amy to get out of the elevator.

"Mr. Milner." Carly's unholy glee at catching her foe trying to undermine her was aptly disguised as boredom. After all, it was a feeling she strongly associated with the man. "Mrs. Rainey, I'm glad you could come up so quickly."

"How's Mort? Has he said anything else?" Amy set off down the corridor, her pace swift enough to force Carly and Ted to lengthen their stride if they desired to keep up with her. "Is he still upset? Is he eating well? Has he been getting enough sleep?"

Carly was well aware that the man next to Amy was growing redder and redder with each question. Serves him right for tagging along. He can't honestly expect to be let in on this little conference. I don't know how I can make myself any clearer when I say that anything to do with Mort is none of his business –

"Doctor?" Amy stopped in the middle of the hallway, unnerved by Carly's silence. "Is Mort alright?"

"What? Oh, yes. He's fine."

"And does he want to see me?" The question was cautious this time.

"Yes, yes, yes." Carly waved a hand in the air as she resumed their course. "He knows you're coming and he didn't protest. Don't mind me, I was just woolgathering."

"Probably wants to finish the job." When both women turned frowns on him, Ted held up his hands in surrender. "I'll be good."

Fat chance. And it probably wouldn't matter if he was good. As long as he held such blatant contempt for Rainey, Carly knew that Amy would pick up on it. No matter that she didn't believe the same; the constant wear on her defenses would turn her eventually. Or ruin the relationship. Having gone through this same situation – albeit without the incarcerated ex – Carly held no illusions to this couple's chances.

Of course, she also held no illusions that Mr. Ted Milner was a first rate horse's ass.

They arrived at the small conference room where they were to meet with Mort. He wasn't there yet on Carly's orders; she wanted to see him before he saw his ex-wife. And she wanted time to get rid of Ted. There was no doubt that seeing the man who'd taken his wife would send Mort back into the depths of incommunicative stubbornness. I've worked much too hard to let that happen.

"Well, Mr. Milner, I suppose this is where I must ask you to excuse yourself."

"What?" He was looking at her as if he though he'd misheard her. Carly didn't buy it for a moment. He'd heard exactly what she'd said; he just didn't want to believe it.

"I believe you're more than familiar with State policy, Mr. Milner. Without the express permission of my patient, you cannot be included in this session, or any like it that might take place in the future. The only reason Mrs. Rainey is permitted to attend is because she retained power-of-attorney – something I'm sure I've informed you of before."

"That man is a cold-blooded killer, and you expect me to let the woman I love go into the same room with him without me?"

"I do. And so does the law."

Carly wanted to laugh when the man's nostrils flared; the impulse became harder to control when he snapped, "That's it. I've had enough of this B.S. Amy, we're leaving."

For a moment Carly was sure that was going to be that, but then Amy displayed her rather undependable will. She dug in her heels, crossed her arms over her chest, and raised her chin. "I think I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Ted."

Realizing his mistake just a moment too late, Ted tried to change tactics. "Amy," he wheedled, "I'm just worried about your safety. Mort's dangerous whether he wants to be or not. Maybe you're right; maybe he wasn't aware of what he was doing when he attacked you, but the truth is that he did." Ted had been maneuvering closer to his fiancée as he'd given his spiel, and now he rested his hands on her hips while fixing her with a doleful, lovelorn gaze that nearly made Carly gag. "Let's just let our lawyers deal with the whole mess. We'll hire the best for him, I swear. I just don't want to risk losing you. I love you."

He'd been winning until his last few lines. Carly watched with fascination as Amy's face hardened, as she peeled Ted's hands away. "Mort loved me too," she said, carefully avoiding Ted's eyes. "That's why I have to do this myself and not hand it over to people who might not understand. After everything we did to him, I really do feel that this is the least I can do." Turning her back on him, Amy whispered her kill-shot. "If you love me as much as you say to you, you'll let me do this."

Before her furious companion could respond, Amy stepped inside the conference room and closed the door behind her. Carly had enough time to watch the other woman cross the room to a window before she was jerked around by the arm and confronted by an all but murderous Ted.

"You think you're so smart," he seethed in her face. "So damn selfless for sticking up for the rights of convicts and retards."

"That quite enough," Carly snapped as she jerked her elbow out of his grip. He'd been holding it hard enough to bruise, she was sure.

"Oh, that's right; we can't be insulting our bread and butter, can we?" His face was nothing but an ugly sneer. "You're a self-righteous bitch, do you know that?"

"And you're asking me to call for security." Not that she needed to; the staff was alert these days. Two guards were already on their way down the hall. Still, Carly narrowed her eyes and said in an uncompromising voice, "Get out of here before I press charges for harassment."

Ted glanced over his shoulder, saw the two hulking guards, then hissed, "You'll get what you deserve, Doctor. Sooner or later someone will see to it."

"I'm not so easily intimidated," she hissed back. It was a lie of course; it was unusual – even for mental health practitioners – to get two threats to life and limb in a single week. For all I know, he sent that letter too. He was here with Amy that day, and none too happy with me –

"Doctor? Can we help you?"

Carly looked away from the darkly compelling eyes before her and nodded. "Yes. Please escort Mr. Milner here outside. He may stay on the grounds, but I don't want his stepping foot inside our facilities again today."

"Yes, ma'am."

Watching to make sure that her orders were followed and that no fuss was made, Carly tried to dismiss the knowing smirk Ted had left her with. She knew the problems an overactive imagination could cause. It was just a figment of her imagination that there's been more to the smirk than amusement that she'd had to call for help. There hadn't been any latent hostility. There hadn't been an unspoken promise.

There hadn't . . .

Mort couldn't help but feel like a condemned man as two orderlies "accompanied" him through the ward. He knew that they were there for safety reasons – he'd seen other patients trailing the same white-clad shadows – still, he couldn't help but feel that they were there to keep him from bolting.

God, how he'd love to do just that. He was terrified of seeing Amy again. What if he saw her and he suddenly remembered . . . everything? What if he remembered things he didn't think he was capable of outside the pages of a novel . . . the light of a computer screen?

That's what he was really scared of. He knew what he was capable of writing. Could the leap between page and his perception of himself not be as insurmountable as he'd always assumed?

It's not too late. I can go back. There wouldn't be any consequences – beyond some disappointed sighs from Dr. Beckham. He could go back, be safe, be silent . . .

The silence . . .

Or he could meet with Amy and know. Know either way. And that had to be better than this constant second guessing, than the wondering, the doubt and the feeling that he wasn't the man he'd always known himself to be.

Didn't it?

Before he could answer that question, he was stopped outside a room; the time deliberation was over.

Do it.

As a man half asleep, he reached for the doorknob . . . turned it . . . pulled . . .

And nothing happened.

He jerked –

– a hand appeared out of nowhere and kept the door from opening. Then it waved in front of his face in a bid to be noticed.

"Mort?" Carly watched as she slowly gained her patient's attention. She'd been trying to talk to him, but she didn't think he'd heard her until now. "Where were you? Back in your room?"

He shrugged. The good doctor tended to ask rhetorical questions. She was good at it, and at knowing when she was totally off the mark. A result of spending most of her career with habitual liars, mumblers, and mutes Mort supposed.

"You sure you want to do this?" Carly had to make sure that this was what Mort wanted, that he was ready for it. If he wasn't, he could be traumatized, could even regress or relapse. He could have a panic attack, might . . . freak out for want of a better term. However, if he felt as if he had some control over the situation, she hoped he'd be able to cope.

Mort thought about her question, she could tell. It was written in the way he stood, in how he didn't look inside the room, in the way his fingers tensed. "It's your choice," she murmured. "We can do this later if you're not ready."

She waited a few moments more for his decision; when he nodded, Carly removed her hand from the door. "After you, Mr. Rainey."

With just the slightest hesitation, Mort stepped inside. Amy twirled around, an uncertain but brilliant smile on her face. "Mort!"

For a long time, Mort did nothing, not even blink. Then he wet his lips, and opened his mouth –

– nothing. But Carly felt pride grow inside her when he tried again. This time, he could just barely be heard.

"What are you saying, Mort?" Amy slowly walked around the table and Mort's mouth snapped shut. He took a step backwards; he didn't want to hurt Amy again, and that meant staying away from her.

Amy stopped, and held out her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "What are you trying to say, Mort? You can tell me. I'm listening."

But Mort could barely hear her over the roaring in his ears. Seeing Amy – even though it unnerved him – had done exactly what he'd hoped and feared.

"Amy," he whispered in a rough, unused voice. "I didn't do it. Not all of it. Not Tom and Greg. I didn't. Oh god, I didn't do it."

It was a long morning for all involved, though after his big revelation, Mort didn't really say anything else. If pressed, Carly would have described him as reveling in something. She didn't think that something was his ex's presence, after being in the same room with her for five minutes, he barely seemed to notice Amy. Or Carly for that matter. Yet his . . . exhilaration . . . was infectious.

So when Amy left the Briar Ridge nearly two hours after entering it, Ted was beyond furious. How dare she look so . . . alight . . . when he'd been all but banished to an uncomfortable park bench by that –

"Oh Ted, it's amazing. I think he remembers. Maybe not everything, but maybe enough."

"Enough to do what?" His tone was a chord of worry, anger, and dismay at her naïveté.

"To prove that he didn't kill Greg Carstairs and Tom Greenleaf."

"That's . . ." Words failed Ted. He couldn't say "That's wonderful," because he didn't think he could pull off a lie that huge. On the other hand, he couldn't be truthful without having to sleep on the couch for the next month. Or possibly two. Amy was being incredibly touchy about this. "Let's go home."

Some of his feelings on the matter must have escaped despite his attempt to avoid the matter, because Amy's face abruptly fell in. "Aren't you excited, Ted? I know you don't like Mort, but –"

"This is not the place to discuss this, Amy. Let's go home. We can talk about it there."

"Will we, Ted?" Amy changed from being disappointed to being combative. "Or will you tell me exactly what you think and then disregard everything I say that you don't agree with?"

Ted huffed and looked around to see if she'd drawn any attention with her raised voice. "I can't believe you just said that, Amy." Contrary to her tone, he strived to sound utterly sensible. "I don't understand why you're so upset with me. I'm just trying to support you. You have to know that."

Amy sighed and nodded. Then, realizing where they were, she asked, "Why are you out here? Why weren't you waiting inside waiting for me?"

Ted wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her back to their car. "Oh, I just thought you might want some privacy, and it's just a nice day. By the way, I've got meetings all day tomorrow . . ."

"Mr. Lawley, your ten-thirty is here."

"Thank you, Susan. He give any hint of what he wants?" Lawley stood and slipped into his suit coat as he talked to his secretary over the intercom.

"No, but I wouldn't call him a bundle of sunshine." There was an undercurrent of wry disgust in Susan's Louisianan drawl.

"Gotcha." Straightening his sleeves, Lawley added, "Clear out the as much of my afternoon schedule as possible, will you, Susan? I've got some out-of-office work that has to be done today." The kind of work that could only be done in a stadium. Nothing was going to keep him away from today's Harrisburg vs. Winchester match. He was a rabid soccer fan.

"I took care of that yesterday, sir."

"You're a gem, Susan. Remind me to recommend you for a raise. Send Mister. . .?"

"Milner."

Oh. "Crap," he muttered to himself. "Alright, Susan. Send Mr. Milner in."

Why didn't I just stay out of the office entirely today? He really didn't want to deal with anything related to the Rainey case; it just killed his anticipation for that night's game.Not to mention he was still a little peeved with Carly for not taking the threat against her a bit more seriously. And thinking about the case made him think about Carly. And thinking about Carly led to . . . unproductiveness. Concern, anticipation, and irritation didn't make for a receptive audience. And Lawley didn't doubt that whatever demands or pleas Milner was about to make were better suited to the stage than his office.

And Milner isn't even a witness. He's already been questioned and there wasn't a lot he had to say that I'm going to be able to use. Most of it was simply pure dislike.

"Mr. Lawley." Ted – unaware of his supreme lack of importance in the D.A.'s eyes – came into the office, hand outstretched. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Mr. Milner." The men shook hands, then took their seats. "I confess that I'm a little unclear as to the reason behind your sudden visit." Specially since you wouldn't tell my secretary. "Unless you've discovered some new proof behind your fiancée's ex's case, you shouldn't even be here."

"I understand. Don't want to get too friendly with anyone connected to the accused."

There was heavy sarcasm in this statement. Not that Lawley understood what this guy had to be upset about. So he simply agreed. "Precisely. Now, if you'd continue?"

"You mean you haven't heard the good news?" Ted knew the other man hadn't; Amy had let slip that Dr. Beckham had neglected to pass along ol' Morty's progress to legal counsel. He'd bet everything that some sort of trouble could be caused by that lag.

"Good news?" He doesn't think I'd be interested in whether or not he and the former Mrs. Rainey have tied the knot.

"Oh, then Dr. Beckham hasn't passed along her news yet. Understandable, I mean, she's a busy woman and so protective of her patients –"

"Please, get to the point, Mr. Milner. I have tickets for the Harrisburg/Winchester match tonight, and I won't appreciate being late for it."

"Oh, you're a soccer man then?"

"I'm a busy man, Mr. Milner," Lawley ground out. This was one of the most frustrating talks he'd had in ages. "I have a great deal yet to do today before I can leave. I don't have time for chit-chat. I still need to get through three briefings for hearings I have to appear at next week, not to mention that there's more than a few subpoenas sitting in my briefcase that need to lodged and filed before closing time. I can give you another ten minutes of my time, but then I really need to get back to work."

"I'm sorry. Of course you're right." Ted straightened in his seat. "I just thought that someone should inform you that Dr. Beckham's been concealing important information from you."

"So you've said. Spit it out, would you?" Lawley knew that Carly had tricks up her sleeve, and that she wouldn't feel the least bit of guilt in stalling the report of new information, but she'd get around too it before things got serious. She wouldn't do anything so desperate as what this man was hinting at.

Or at least he didn't think –

"Mort's talking."

"What?"

Observing the look of shock – and dare he say betrayal? – on the DA's face, Ted felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Not only was the uptight and always professional Dr. Beckham hiding info, but he thought it might be possible that she was sleeping with the enemy. "Oh, yes. For about a week now."

"What?" Lawley just had to repeat the question to make sure that he'd heard correctly. Rainey had been speaking for a week? And no one from Briar Ridge had bothered to contact his office? Even if Carly didn't want to bother, there was no excuse for her boss not to call or courier a note over. This - this - was the break they were all waiting for. It was inexcusable for the State to be left out of the loop like this. "How do you know this?"

Ted shrugged. "How else? The moment he opened his yap, Dr. Beckham was on the phone with Amy. It's like they've become best friends. They're always on the phone together. All Amy can talk about is 'the doctor said this,' and 'the doctor said that.' Personally, I think it's unprofessional."

If it were true, then Mr. Milner was correct. True, it was only right that the patient's family be contacted first, but damn it! She had court orders to report it the moment Rainey started speaking. And this wasn't about her not letting him know - that's what he told himself anyway. This was about her office not contacting his office. This was about her throwing her vaunted professionalism out the window.

It was also about the fact that he was trapped in his office with the king of the jackasses, having to deal with the man's "you're as useful as chicken spit" smirk. That alone was enough to get some of his own back for.

"Thank you for bringing me this information, Mr. Milner." True, he would have preferred an e-mail to having to face this man's overweening sense of superiority, but . . . "I'll have to look into this -" Damn. With everything else he had to do, he wasn't going to be able to make it to the game. Unless he could talk is boss into letting him . . . or better yet, not pass along the information at all. Since Carly hadn't seen fit to pass the information along yet in the first place, interviewing Rainey could undoubtedly wait until Monday. . .

"My pleasure, Mr. Lawley. My pleasure."

Lawley waited until his quest was at the door before he asked, "And what is it that you're getting out of this?"

"Just the pleasure in a job well done," was the enigmatic reply, and Ted didn't stick around to explain.

Carly, seeing as how it was Friday afternoon, made her way to Augusta General for her weekly visit with Toby. Though to Toby might have been more accurate since she did all the talking and he laid in his bed like a bump on a log. Not that he was at fault for his less than scintillating company, seeing as how he was still in a coma.

At least he's out of ICU ward, she thought gratefully as she made her way through the lobby. She thought in odd moments, after she'd made her visit and was trying to forget, that whoever had designed Briar Ridge should have made allowances for natural light. It bolstered her, and must do the same for others. Surely a facility for the mentally problematic could use that same cheer. She couldn't be the only one who felt like she was drowning in fluorescent lighting.

"Ms. Beckham. Right on time as usual."

Hearing herself called by something other than her professional name called Carly out of her internal dialogue. It's a good thing I have a good autopilot, she thought as she looked around and recognized the wing where Toby was being kept. I'd be lost most of the time otherwise. "Hello, Agnes. Am I really so predictable?"

"Right down to the newspaper in your hand," the elderly candy-striper said, causing Carly to automatically look down at the newspaper in her right hand.

"I'm a big believer in the human mind." Her years as a psychologist had taught her that the mind was capable of amazing things. Unknowable, unexplainable things. It never shut down, not even in sleep. So reading to Toby and keeping him informed of current events – even if it was just a peripheral awareness – was not a waste of time. It was a way of giving his mind something to do with itself.

"Of course you are, dearie." Agnes patted Carly on the hand in a grandmotherly fashion. "Go right in. I'm sure he's waiting to hear what the current MLB stats are."

Actually, Carly wasn't sure at all if Toby even followed baseball, but she wasn't going to argue either. "Have a nice afternoon, Agnes."

"Oh, you can be sure of it."

Carly smiled at the old woman's irascibility, then walked down the hallway and entered Toby's room. "Hey there, old man," she said in greeting as she took a seat in a nearby chair. "You know, if you're competing with Mort for speechless man of the year, you've won. Mort's a regular chatterbox compared to you." She didn't expect a response, and she didn't get one. "You see, Mort would have at least given me a look of distain. You're lucky I don't get offended and leave without reading the paper to you. I'm a regular angel of mercy. You should be honored; I don't do this for just anyone."

And with that, Carly snapped the paper open and started reading the headlines, only going back to read the articles when she'd discovered what her options were.

"What are you doing here?" The statement was harsh, accusatory, and very likely the start of an argument, but Carly didn't care. Here she was, hot, sweaty, and dressed in her workout clothes, and the last person she wanted to see was leaning against her car, a scowl on his face.

"I hope you realize what I'm giving up because of your selfishness," Lawley shot back. It he'd been rational, he would have known that Carly hadn't done anything to make him miss his game – that could be laid solely at his bosses door. And the cretin who'd stopped for a chat with his boss right after leaving his office. However, he was missing his game because his boss had ordered him to get this "business with that pesky doctor" dealt with.

"My selfishness?" Carly repeated slowly, as if she'd never heard the words before. "What are you talking about? I'm here for a workout. I'd like to know what you're doing here. You of all people should know that I could probably get a restraining order against you for behavior like this. I didn't even know you knew which gym I belong to."

At this, Lawley had the grace to look a bit ashamed of himself, though it didn't last long. "I called your house. Your mother told me where you were."

That's it. I don't care if the wedding is this weekend. She's getting a hotel. "And that gives you permission to harass me how?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Doctor."

The bitterness and antagonism in his voice nearly made her step back. It did make her have to stiffen her upper lip. Why was he being so . . . so . . . She didn't even have the words to describe how he was being since she couldn't define what they were to each other. But he was acting like she'd cheated on him or something.

Lawley saw the total incomprehension on her face and cynically wondered just how many things she'd done wrong that she had no idea what he meant. "Let's just get this over with, Doctor." He stepped forward and thrust a sheaf of papers into her hand. "This is an injunction allowing me to interview Mr. Rainey."

"And you need this why?" Carly still didn't understand. "I thought we'd agreed that you'd be able to interview him when the time was right. When he'd be able to cope with it."

"You mean when he's talking again."

"Among other things. But yes –"

"Then is there a reason you didn't contact my office a week ago?"

"What?"

"A week ago. When he started talking again."

"He wasn't talking a week ago."

"Don't lie to me!" The both fell silent, surprised by the venom in his voice. Then Lawley let out a bark of harsh laughter and ran his hands through his hair; Carly noticed he was looking rather disheveled. He noticed, and laughed again. "You know, I thought we'd developed a trust. I thought we were working towards an . . . understanding."

"We were – until you came charging into my personal life and started to accuse me of . . . actually, you haven't quite said what you're accusing me of yet. Other than lying, of course."

"You mean you haven't been using our relationship as a shield for Rainey?"

"No. That'd be unprofessional. And I'm sure you're aware of how much I try to behave in a manner appropriate to my profession. Not to mention that I don't get nearly so friendly with people I just plan on using. Quite frankly, I'm insulted that you have such a low opinion of me."

Lawley considered this. Carly could see when he decided that she was telling the truth, when he started soften. She started to relax as well – after all, she could understand where his doubts came from since she had them as well – but then he said, "Then why didn't you call me last week when Rainey started talking," and she wanted to hit him.

"Because he wasn't!"

"Don't lie to me," Lawley said again, though this time he just sounded tired. "I know that he was."

"How? Who told you that?"

"I can't tell you. You know that."

"I think I deserve to know who's spreading lies."

"Carly –"

"No! Don't 'Carly' me when you think I'm nothing but a big, fat liar. Believe me or leave me alone."

"Fine, I believe you. But you've already admitted that Rainey's speaking and the fact remains I didn't know."

"That's because he started talking the day before yesterday. I had to contact Amy Rainey who has power of attorney. Then I had to set up at date between her, Rainey, and Rainey's lawyer. I was going to get a hold of your office tomorrow to confirm. Now, who's been telling tales?"

Lawley thought about how he could answer that, then decided just to tell all of it. "Ted Milner. He came to my office bright and early and oh-so-innocently dropped hints that perhaps you were behaving unscrupulously."

Carly absorbed that, then shook her head. "That's what he meant then. And to think that I was actually worried."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, our friend Mr. Milner threatened me yesterday. He was upset that I wouldn't let him on the meeting between Amy, Mort, and myself. He said that I'd get what I deserved sooner or later." Carly shrugged. "I suppose I've just been on edge lately with all that's been happening. For awhile I actually thought that perhaps he'd been behind that note I got."

Lawley's face turned deadly serious. "Are you sure he's not?"

"What's this? First you're accusing me of betrayal of trust, and now you're concerned about me?" Carly smiled wryly. "You need to stop blowing hot and cold, Counselor. It's befuddling."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Mmm . . . no, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because I think we've just found out why a relationship between us wouldn't work well."

"A relationship between us won't work because of petty idiots?"

"Ha-ha." Carly circled around her car and unlocked it.

"I'm serious. Let me make it up to you. Let's do dinner."

Oh, he's so cute. The thought was foreign, but not unsettling. "A business dinner," she clarified. "We can discuss this injunction."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd like that," Lawley muttered. "Alright, I can compromise. A business dinner, but I'm cooking." He pulled a pen and a business card out of his suit pocket and scribbled something on the back. "Here's my address. Dinner will be ready promptly at 7:30. Will that give you enough time to shower and change?"

"You want to do this tonight?" Carly looked at the address he'd scribbled down and was impressed. He lived on the pricey side of town. Apparently legal beagles made more than civic shrinks.

"Why not? I can't think of a better way to kick off the weekend." Now that making his game was completely out of the question, anyway.

It seemed like a trick question, but Carly still answered. "I'm not wearing something 'more comfortable.' I do intend to get some work done."

"Absolutely. I've got the files I'll need at home."

"Alright. I guess I'll see you in a bit then."

"In a bit," Lawley echoed as he waved and headed for his car.

Carly watched him climb into his vehicle and leave, then spent the ride home in thoughtful silence.

Author's Thanks: my gratuitous thanks go out to . . . Dawnie-7 (Carly's mother is based just a bit off my own grandmother. My gramma isn't so blatantly abrasive – at least not to me – but she did kind of inspire Carly's mum. As for the setting up bit, Carly doesn't need any help in that department. :P); Honorat (I'm glad to see you stumbled across my fics. I certainly enjoy writing them, and I'm always glad to hear from people who enjoy reading them. Mort+OC was getting old hat when I started writing this fic about three or four weeks after FFN opened a page for SW fanfiction. I try to steer away from conventional Canon+OC romances when I can, because I feel that those simply reflect what the writer wants to do – in this case, hook up with Johnny Depp. I feel it's more of a challenge for me as a writer not to take that easy way out, so that's what I try to do. I'm happy you find my characterizations to be real. It's something that I think more people should struggle with – I know I do. Amazingly enough it's the little things that do it though; what sport they like. Allergies they may have. Having one character notice if the other is covered in cat hair. That sort of thing is what we all can identify with. Ted…I've always liked Ted. In the novella he's deeper than he is in the film. Yet the film captured him fairly well. Having both those resources to work with helps me catch Amy, Ted, and Mort better. I hope this update didn't seem to take forever. It actually seemed timely to me.); vanillafluffy (Carly has a love/hate relationship with her mother. Hates being around her, loves her when she's in another town. :P It's something I think a lot of daughters can identify with.); Lynx (Carly got a great deal of her smart tongue from having to deal with and having to hold her own with her mother. So when her mother is smart back, it's no surprise. I'm sorry you found Lawley to be a bit creepy in that last chapter. I didn't mean for him to be. I was probably rushing though and didn't take a good look at that bit of dialogue.); Savvy TBird (Suspense is amazingly hard to write. I don't know if that's because I know what's going to happen, or if I'm just naturally not very good at it. But if I'm pulling it off, then I must be doing something right.); Stahlfan125 (Carly and Lawley are a good combo I think. She's strong enough to deal with his charm and good looks, and he's laid back enough to deal with her type-A personality. He does want to take things a bit faster than is proper though, so I'm having to reign him in there. :P); LadySparrowJack (I am totally evil and proud of it. Next chapter I'll get to be even more evil, and I'll enjoy every moment of it.); Spoofmaster (FS has reached novel status in your eyes? grin One of these days I really will write a novel. Sooner or later. Strangely enough, I never feel bad about putting my characters through horrible ordeals. It's actually therapeutic at times. I enjoy it. :P I'm sure it's wrong, but I don't plan on changing.); CleopatraVII(Mort is like a teen, emotionally, I think. He's withdrawn so much that he's actually regressed. He's really not a healthy man even if he turns out to not be a mass-murderer.); snufflesgal (I'm trying to finish:P It's going to be over sooner than I thought.); Blue Autumn Sky (hey, your SN is seasonally appropriate at the moment. :P As much as I like hearing how people like the Carly/Lawley pairing, I like hearing that people aren't a fan of it either. Because that means that my characters aren't bland. :P How's that for egotistical?); Dustbunnie (lol. I hope you have more to dance for this time around.); CaptainJackSparrowsGirl (He does speak. Not much, but it's all about baby steps.); tinkthefairy (That's a lot of !'s and ?'s you managed to pack into your review. They made me smile.); websurffer (I hope your anticipation was justified. I tried to keep the pace from dragging too much.); Merrie(No you haven't mentioned much about this fic lately because you're so busy:P Lawley's name is good for a lawyer too, because he gets to lay down the law. Not just enforce it. :P I think you should start doing the "Next time on Fractured Secrets…" thing they do for TV shows. It makes my fic sound more exciting.); Erinya (OC/OC…it's just the next step in my journey to being something other than a fanfic writer. :P You really gave me some nice complements in that last review. I don't know if I deserve them, but I try to write as if I do.); luvcaptainjack (I'm glad I'm staying cliché free. I hate clichés.); Gaze (This is as soon as "as humanly possible" gets for my updates. The next one should come sooner since I'm laying off PS for awhile.); butterflywings32 (Merlin's beard…that just made me laugh. OC/OC that's not Harry Potter? As much as I try to steer away from personal romance with a canon character, I'm not sure that I could do it if I wrote Potterfic. Jellybeans! Yeah!); Little Fox (How's school doing? I'm not sure I've seen you around JA much lately. Carly reminds you of your sister? That's great. It's like I need to include that disclaimer than any resemblance in coincidence, yadda, yadda, yadda.); SparrowLover (I love seeing everyone's reaction to hearing that Mort's talking. It's the greatest thing ever.); Not Quite (I wrote more. I hope it meets with your approval. :P); Isabela Pucini (lol! And that's why I like writing cliffhangers.); AndromedaStarr(The Mort, eh? I like using his name as a title. It seems to enforce his speechlessness.); Charlie Quill (Don't go mad. It's harder to enjoy fanfics that way. nods seriously Actually, some of my best friends are insane. :P); Shire cat (here's that more you wanted. Hope you enjoy it.)