A/N: This chapter's been finished since Wednesday but there was some error with uploading the document that kept coming up so I couldn't post it. Stupid computers...

Anyway, here's le chapitre final. Enjoy! (And R&R)

He fidgeted in the hard wooden chair, trying to recall why he'd agreed to testify today. He wasn't this girl's doctor; he'd never even met her before. It only took a moment to remember the reason: the down payment he'd been able to make on the 30-footer of his dreams, courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Charles van Acker. Just think of the boat, Sam…

He abruptly called himself back to reality when he realized that the tall defense attorney that hired him was standing up. What was her name again?…

"Please state your name and occupation for the record."

"Dr. Samuel Morgenthal, head of behavioral research and studies at New York University."

She smiled at him. Pretty young thing, he thought briefly before remembering that (a) he was in court, (b) he was married with two kids, and (c) she was young enough to be his daughter.

"Dr. Morgenthal, what are your qualifications?"

"I hold a PhD in clinical psychology and an MD in psychiatric medicine." He couldn't quite hold back a haughty.

Deirdre, that was her name, he remembered suddenly. Deirdre Sullivan. She was walking towards the jury now. "What kinds of illnesses do you research in your job, doctor?"

"Behavioral and personality disorders."

"Such as?"

He ticked off on his fingers as he named them. "Paranoid psychosis, schizotypal disorder, obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, histrionic disorder…"

"Anti-social personality disorder?" Sullivan supplied.

He nodded. "Yes, that too."

She had turned her attention back to him. "Dr. Morgenthal, what are some of the characteristics of the disorder?"

"ASPD patients often exhibit risky behaviors, substance abuse, rage, anxiety, and lack of emotional responses such as fear and empathy."

Sullivan gave a smile and nod of satisfaction. "Thank you, doctor," she said as she turned back to the gallery. "Nothing further."

Carver stood up from his place at the prosecutor's table. Approaching the witness stand, he eyed the doctor. "Doctor," he began, "have you ever interviewed the defendant?"

Morgenthal smirked, unfazed by the expected question. "No, I can only offer the academic diagnosis."

"So you don't know for a fact that she even suffers from ASPD?"

"No."

"Dr. Morgenthal, can people with the disorder function normally and distinguish between right and wrong?"

"Yes, for the most part."

"Is ASPD considered treatable?"

"No."

Carver gave his own nod of satisfaction. "Thank you, doctor."

It was the end of another long day in court and Carver was relaxing on Branch's couch, gripping his coat in one hand and the promised scotch in the other. Reclining next to him was Jack McCoy, with his own scotch and a matching expression of exhaustion.

"I'm worried, Arthur," Ron said with a sigh. "I think Deirdre may have pushed the pity button enough to get at least a few jurors on her side."

Arthur chuckled. "Thankfully for you, a few sappy jurors does not a verdict make."

"Arthur, did you…" a voice began from the doorway before trailing off. "Sorry, didn't know the old boys club was having a meeting," Borgia said sarcastically through the open door.

Jack smiled at his assistant. "Don't worry, Alex, we're just commiserating about the pains of the legal system."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Never mind, it can wait until tomorrow. 'Night, Jack, Arthur, Ron," she replied, nodding to each as she said their names. She stepped back out into the hallway and shut the door softly behind her.

In the office, Ron took another drink from his highball glass. "Anyway, I think some of them buy it, but the rest still seem a bit skeptical." He swirled the remains of the whiskey, watching the patterns of light it cast on the coffee table in front of him. "I wish Deirdre would put her on the stand. It would make showing Audrey as a cold, heartless excuse for a person much easier. But she's not dumb enough to do that." He set the glass down on the polished wood. "Closings are tomorrow. I think I can convince them that she's sane."

Deirdre mentally gathered her oratorical skills before she rose from her seat. She slowly approached the jury box, taking time to look at each member's face. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "my client killed a woman." She looked soberly at the twelve of them. "No one disputes that. She got angry and she released that anger onto Caroline Mercutio. What she did was brutal and vicious and wrong. I know it, you know it, Mr. Carver knows it, Judge Bradley knows it. But all of that is irrelevant. Because all that matters today, the only thing you have to decide…is whether my client knew that." She paused and motioned back at Audrey. "When you go back into that room to deliberate, there's only one question that you have to ask yourselves: did Audrey van Acker know it was wrong?" She looked dramatically at them to let her words take effect. After a moment, she receded back to the defense table.

Carver took a deep breath and stood up. "Ms. Sullivan is right," he said as he approached the jury. "No one is challenging the facts. Everyone here knows what the defendant did and nobody is going to say otherwise." He stopped pacing and put both hands on the polished wooden rail in front of the box. "Now, the defense would like you to believe that Audrey didn't know what she was doing when she took out that knife, that she didn't realize what she was doing was wrong, that she was insane when she stabbed her counselor almost 50 times." He gave the jurors a trusting look. "I hope that during your deliberations, you'll see their argument for what it really is: a feeble attempt to let a killer go free."

Seven hours later, Carver and his second chair sat on a bench outside the courtroom. He had just begun to think that deliberations would continue to the next day when the clerk came out to announce the jury's return.

Back inside, he watched the seven men and five women file back to their seats. The forewoman handed a folded piece of paper to the bailiff who in turn handed it off to Judge Bradley. After glancing at it briefly, he spoke. "Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

"On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant, Audrey van Acker, guilty."

Carver let out the breath he'd been holding. He turned to smile at Mercutio's parents sitting behind him, silently congratulating himself as he turned. He looked over at Audrey, who was being cuffed by a court officer. As the burly uniform led her out of the courtroom, he noticed something. Throughout the entire trial, she'd remained silent, just sitting at the defense table and watching. She'd showed no emotion after the verdict, not even when her crying parents reached over to hug her. Now, as she was being guided out the doors, she was finally reacting. She was chuckling softly to herself. She looked back and saw him watching her, flashing another wicked grin in response.

"20 to life," Ron told the detectives back at the precinct. "Should've been 25, but the judge took pity on her because of her age." He checked his watch. "I've got to go. Goodnight, detectives."

Alex set her steaming cup of coffee on her desk and reclined in her chair. "20 years," she sighed. "Maybe they'll let her get a G.E.D.while she's in Bedford."

Bobby let out a matching sigh. "In youth and beauty, wisdom is but rare." He smiled at Alex's raised eyebrows. "Homer's Odyssey."

They lapsed into silence,just watching the steam from the coffee as it spiraled slowly into the air.

A/N: Hehehe...Jack and Alex have cameos!