Ed Green unceremoniously opened the safe house door open, inadvertantly causing the knob to bang with unnecessary force, against the wall. Rebecca McCoy gave Green a startled look that he ignored. As the two uniformed officers checked the premises for anything a miss, Green gestured curtly to the well worn sofa.

"Have a seat. Once the officers are finished, I'm sure you'll want to freshen up after the long drive."

"Long drive," Rebecca replied with equal abruptness, "I'm surprised I didn't need my passport. We must be half way to Mexico by now. But hey, just par for the course. Being the daughter of a self righteous prick at can't even..."

"Girl, do you ever give it up," Green shot back. "Damn. It's bad enough I had to listen to this mess almost nonstop from Manhattan and passed three county lines... I ain't listenin' to it now. I'm officially off duty and I'm done listenin' to you bitch about what hell it is to have Jack McCoy as a father."

"You obviously have no idea..."

"No lady," Green interjected. "You're the one who obviously has no idea. I was the one that found the girls who were kidnapped by Rostov; the man that had Brooke Malinowski kidnapped. You have no idea the public service your father did getting that animal sent back to Russia. Not just for his victims, but for society period."

"Yeah, tell that to Brooke," Rebecca countered defiantly."That is if we ever see her again. If my father hadn't played cowboy and broken every rule in the book….if he had just done his job and tried this man the way he was supposed to..."

Green shook his head in disbelief. He could understand the young woman's concern for Malinowski. He could even understand her frustration at having her life put on hold. But her inability to see the greater good achieved by her father's decision to pull strings and have Rostov traded for Nicolas Brezin confounded him.

"Wait," he said sharply, as he moved to toward the front door."Just put your mouth in park and wait a minute. I'll be back."

Rebecca McCoy stared at the door as it slammed closed. She didn't care what Ed Green thought. This had happen too many times before, too many times for the same basic reason: Jack McCoy's desire to put winning above all else.

She'd seen it when he had dealt with the Russian mafia and a woman from the DA's office was murdered. Her father all but shut down organized crime in the city, by less than legal means, until a the New York state supreme court dared to shut the operation down.

While McCoy continued to work the case, he had his daughter sent to a safe house for nearly three months.

Then came the Barnes appeal and Barnes's notorious hit list. Again, McCoy toughed it out and stayed in the city, working as if nothing had happened. Only grudgingly, did he accept a detail and a room that changed nightly, in various Manhattan hotels. The most meager of precautions and only used because Anita Van Buren had threatened to stake out McCoy's home and office herself, if he didn't listen to reason.

While he father played hero, Rebecca found herself out of contact with her job, her friends, and the man in her life, as she was shuffled from safe house to safe house. By the time Barnes senior was history, so were her job and relationship.

The sound of the file that had been in Green's hand, smacking against the press board coffee table made Rebecca jump.

"Detective, I know you mean well," she began pensively," but no matter what you have there in that file, there's no way you can justify..."

"You ever seen crime scene photos, Miss McCoy," Green said brusquely, as he opened the file.

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Jack McCoy had thought of all the crime scene photos he'd viewed in his more than twenty years in the DA's office. He thought of the ransom notes and terrorists videos he read and viewed…of all the serial killers and rapists handy work he'd presented as evidence, while he viewed the remaining portion of the video with Mike Logan, a few hours earlier.

As he finished the last of the scotch, he hit the rewind button for the VCR player in the loft he shared with his fiancée. After viewing the tape with Logan, McCoy remained on automatic pilot. He spent the next several hours working with various agencies and the media to ensure all the arrangements were made to appear to be satisfying Malinowski kidnappers that their demands were being met. In spite of Mike Logan's best efforts, McCoy had insisted on taking a copy of Malinowski's video with him, on the pretense that he might spot something new if he watched the tape again... alone and without interruptions.

Her words had cut into his heart. The images of her being violated by the burly man in the spider man mask, cut into his soul.

As he hit the play button the screen sprang to life. He steeled himself as his fiancée was ordered to strip, reminding himself Brooke had to endure, what he only had to watch.

He watched her expressionless face carefully, as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. As hard as she tried to hide it, he could see the dread in her eyes, before her shaking hands finally forced her to look from the eye of the camera downward.

Her progress being too slow for her captors, the burly Russian abruptly returned to the screen and tore the blouse off of her.

McCoy could see the blood drain from her face, as the man drew a knife and informed her she could either finish the job quickly or he could finish it for her. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she bit down hard enough on her lower lip for McCoy to see a thin line of blood begin to flow downward, soon after. She unbuckled her belt and began to remove her jeans.

Closing her eyes, Malinowski reached back to unhook her bra. McCoy's mind flashed back to the morning of their ill fated attempt at matrimony.

He remembered watching her dress that morning. Knowing time would be of the essence, she had chosen the lacy white bra and matching panties he had packed for her.

"Besides, Jack," she had said as she rejoined him on the bed, clad only in her bra and panties, "if I wear white, you'll at least have the illusion of a virgin bride."

McCoy chuckled softly as he pulled her to him.

"In that case, maybe we need a trial run before this evening. It's been a while since I deflowered anyone."

"Oh, God ... help me!"

The alarmingly sorrowful cry of his fiancée turned his stomach, as his thoughts returned to the image on the screen. The image of her naked body being touched roughly, intimately, as her captors laughed and gave their vulgar critique of Malinowski's attributes.

McCoy could feel the tears he had held back over the course of the day spill from his eyes and down his cheeks, as 'Spider Man' proclaimed what McCoy's 'dirty little whore' needed, was to be washed. As she began to back away, the masked man grabbed her and carried a now screaming Malinowski towards the shower.

"Jack? Jack open the door…"

It wasn't until he felt the presence of her warm, steady hand on his shoulder, that's McCoy realized he was no longer alone.

Lt. Anita Van Buren wordlessly picked up the remote from beside the distraught district attorney and the room immediately became silent and dark.

"Anita? How did you get in here," he asked as McCoy fumbled to switch on the light on the end table bedside him.

"I flashed your Super my badge and told him I needed to see you on police business. He'd seen the news reports on your fiancée and brought me up. When you didn't answer the door, he used his pass key to let me in," she replied as she moved to pick up the ejected tape from the player."I told Mike this wasn't a good idea."

"I didn't give Logan a lot of choice," McCoy said as he impatiently wiped his face. "Did you hear something else from the kidnappers? Has someone..."

Van Buren quickly shook her head, as she slipped the tape into her bag and the empty scotch bottle off the table.

"I wish I had good news for you, Jack," she said as she moved to the kitchen and scanned the doorless cabinets until she found what she was looking for."This isn't an official visit. I came by because we've worked together too long for me not to consider you a friend. Where I come, from friends look out for friends."

McCoy watched as Van Buren started a pot of coffee. The last thing he wanted was company. After spending the day holding himself in check, McCoy knew between the emotions, fatigue and liquor, he wasn't anywhere close to being able to make polite conversation or reassuring noises. If it had been anyone else... Cutter, Rubirosa, even his treasured former assistant Jamie Ross...that had dared to intrude on his solitude he would have unceremoniously turned them away without a second thought.

As Van Buren opened the refrigerator, McCoy admitted to himself the comfort it brought him to have her take time away from her family to check on him. To be counted among her friends was something, even under the worst of circumstances, McCoy valued highly.

When Van Buren closed the refrigerator door, she held a casserole dish containing the remains of a tamale pie Malinowski had made the day before their trip. As she moved to the microwave, she held her other hand up to silence the beginnings of McCoy's protest.

"You have to stay strong for her, Jack. You can't help Brooke living on scotch."

"I can't help Brooke, no matter what I'm living on," he said softly.

"I know you don't want to hear it right now, but this isn't your fault."

"Anita, we both know if I had gone by the book on the Rostov case, none of this would be happening," he said bluntly.

"What we both know is, counselor," she said with equally candor, the microwave timer beeped," if you hadn't made that switch the Rostov's that we didn't catch would have laughed in our faces and continued to do business as usual. When you sent that bastard back to Moscow for some real justice, it sent a message to other human traffickers. Damn it Jack, stop beating up on yourself, you did what you had to do."

McCoy's jaw dropped and Van Buren immediately knew why.

"Jack, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't..."

McCoy shook his head, trying to clear it of Malinowski's words, as well as trying to silence Van Buren's unnecessary apology.

Do what you have to do…how many times did she say it?...she thinks I'd let them…

"Jack?"

McCoy sat down in front of Van Buren and stared down at the plate of steaming food in front of him.

"I could find justice for dozens of women I never met and I can't even find the woman who means everything to me."

"She knows you'll do everything in you'll power to bring her home, Jack. We all will."

"Anita, you saw the tape. You heard what she said. She thinks..."

"She's trying to survive," Van Buren said with surprising force.

Although Van Buren had only met McCoy's fiancée a handful of times, she knew any woman that could break through Jack McCoy's armor had to be not only attractive and smart, but strong.

"Jack, she's not only your fiancée, she's an ADA," Van Buren said, taking his hands in hers. "She knows too much to stand there and recite the usual tear filled plea's a normal victim makes. She knows the drill and she's trying to protect herself in any way she can. Trying to put your mind at ease…trying not to give those animals the reaction she knows they expect…these are survival strategies. Don't use them to punish yourself. If you do, you're not only letting those bastards win, you're doing exactly what Brooke doesn't want you to do."

McCoy thought about her words, before slowly nodding his head. Van Buren gently reclaimed her hands and placed a fork in McCoy's grasp. As he began to move the food on his plate around, Van Buren gave him a questioning look.

"What," McCoy asked between mouthfuls.

"Is that something you concocted?"

McCoy chuckled softly before shaking his head.

"One of Brooke's attempts at converting me to California cuisine," McCoy explained. "She got hooked on Mexican food when during her college days there."

"It smells good," Van Buren said thoughtfully. "But it sure looks like a whole lot of mush and corn meal to me."

"I said the same thing the first time she made it for me," he admitted as he took a small bite full. "Actually, it's not bad. Here, give it a try."

Van Buren leaned in and slowly savored the sample McCoy carefully placed in her mouth. She smiled back at McCoy, as she thoughtfully swallowed the morsel.

"Hearty, but it needs something…something to give it a little bite. Tell you what, counselor. After we bring her home, you bring the future Mrs. McCoy down to Queens one weekend and I will personally show her how to add a little soul to her cooking."

McCoy smiled in spite of himself as he pondered Van Buren's offer.

"I have your word on that, lieutenant?"

"That I'll teach Miss Brooke a thing or two in the kitchen?"

McCoy looked into the dark eyes that radiated the natural beauty and wisdom he had grown accustomed to seeing for more than a decade.

"That you'll bring her home," he said softly. "That you'll bring her home, however you can."