A/N: all right, needless to say I've been gone a while. most of my readers probably gave up on this fic, and who can blame them. I was gone a really long time. I'd like to blame that on my beta reader, who took a really long, long time to beta the next two chapters in this story. No, this hasn't been a case of writer's block. It's a case of bad timing. I sent this chapter to be beta when exams started and then my wonderful beta reader forgot about it. So partly my fault.
So for those who can't remember, they just found out the true identity of Lyena and Mary's rapist. on with the story!
Fin, Groves and Munch had found Ethan at his work. Ethan took one look at Groves and bolted towards the door, but Fin and Groves ran after him and tackled him to the floor. As they handcuffed him and read him his rights, he kept crying out that he did nothing wrong and that he loved her.
"All right, take your time and when you're ready, pick out the man who attacked you," Olivia prompted as Mary glanced upon six plain-looking men.
Mary clenched her fist as her eyes rested on number four. He looked like the other ones, plain face, plain hair, just plain everything. Nothing made him stand out; he was bland. She stared at him, thinking that all he needed was glasses fixed by tape and a pocket protector to look like the textbook nerd.
"Number four."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
They thanked her and Olivia led her out into the squad room. Casey Novak turned to Ethan's attorney and said, "That's three out of three, which is more then enough to convince a jury."
"I want to speak to my client," Ethan's lawyer, Trevor Langan, demanded.
"Fine," Casey responded and the attorney quickly left.
In the squad room, Mary sat in her chair, staring off at space while Locke and Groves had fallen asleep at Munch and Olivia's desks, much to the annoyance of those two detectives. Munch glared at his occupied desk and whispered loudly to Elliot, "You think we should wake the sleeping beauties?"
"Cut them a break, they're getting used to the time difference," Olivia defended, even though she wish she could sit at her own desk.
Elliot glanced at his watch and stated, "It's only six thirty."
"Half past ten in London," Mary told them quietly, as she got up and walked over to Groves. She tapped him on the head and whispered, "Stop dreaming about Miranda Richardson and get up, Groves."
He groaned and lifted his head. "I wasn't dreaming about Miranda Richardson."
"Get up and wake up your partner," Mary said with a smile.
He nodded, smacked Locke on the head and said loudly, "The pink ponies are coming to get you!"
Locke jumped up and looked around frantically. "Ponies? Where?"
Groves and Mary started laughing and Locke realized what had happened. He glared at them and asked, "Why did I tell you about that dream?"
"Because you're a dimwit," Groves answered him.
"They had fangs in my dream!" Locke yelled, getting red in the face.
Mary rolled her eyes and had sat back down at her desk, when a voice behind her yelled angrily, "I was just stuck on the plane ride to hell in coach to get here!"
"Bridget!" Groves and Locke cried out in horror. They turned to see an angry-looking woman who seemed on the verge of killing the first thing that got in her way.
"Bridget, darling, how was your flight? You look lovely," Locke said sweetly, running up to her and blocking her view. "Listen, I think we should talk before you do anything."
"Wouldn't Ethan still be in jail tomorrow? So why did I have to come tonight?" She paused upon seeing Mary and stood there motionless. After a stressful minute where they weren't sure if she was even still breathing, she asked, "Am I the only one who sees her?"
"That's Detective Daisy Clampett. She's new to New York," Groves informed her.
Her lip twitched as she repeated the name Daisy Clampett. "I bet you have a real thick Southern accent too."
"Actually, yeah. I'm from Tennessee." Bridget started laughing and Mary responded by asking, "And does the name Bridget mean major pain in the arse?"
Bridget just laugh harder and finally managed to ask, "Where the ADA?"
"Right this way," Elliot said and started to led her away. "Her name's Casey Novak."
Bridget paused and went up to Mary. "I'll need to talk to you later," she said, holding back tears as she hugged Mary.
"All right."
Bridget let her go and followed Elliot to Casey.
"Miss Novak? I'm Bridget McCarthy from the CPS." Casey stared at her blankly. "The Crown Prosecution Service." Still nothing. Bridget looked like she was about to hit Casey and then spoke clearly and slowly, "I'm an attorney from England. I'm here to apprehend Ethan Soranders and take him back to London where he will be tried for the murder of Joe Waters and Mary Tudor."
Casey shot her an annoyed glance, knowing full well Bridget was mocking her and said, "Well, you can extradite him after we're done."
"Let me explain something - he's a murderer. He should be tried where he committed the murder, which is in London."
"He's also a rapist and he committed two out of his three rapes here in New York. He stays."
"That second rape doesn't count; no charges were ever filed."
"That's because the British detectives have kept Clampett from making a statement."
"What about the dead boy's mother? Don't you think she should at least get the satisfaction of knowing that the man who murdered her son is behind British bars?"
"What about the victims here? Shouldn't they get the same satisfaction of knowing he's behind American bars?"
Mary rolled her eyes outside the door and crept in. "Honestly, I wouldn't care which bars he's behind as long as he is behind bars."
"But don't you think Abigail, Joe's mother, would want Soranders behind British bars?" Bridget asked, not shocked that Mary had resorted to eavesdropping.
"To tell you truthfully, I think Abigail would just be glad he's off the streets."
"You're not helping my case."
"Oh, I do think he should spend the rest of his life in a British prison, but he should have to pay for what he did here," Mary said, ignoring Bridget's comment.
"How do you propose we manage that?" Casey asked.
"If he plead out to the crimes here, what would he get?"
Casey shrugged and said, "Maybe ten years for the assault and fifteen for the rape."
"You offer him a deal. He serves twenty five years for those crimes, in British custody, while he's being tried for his acts of violence against Joe Waters, and Mary Tudor."
Casey and Bridget exchanged a glance, both mentally going over if this arrangement was legal. Casey shrugged and Bridget turned to Mary with a smile as she whispered, "Dying has made you smarter, Tudor."
