"Hot bath or fire,"Malinowski asked through chattering teeth, as she and Jack McCoy entered the loft.
"Lady's choice," McCoy responded as he dropped the basket and blanket on the counter, before reaching for the empty coffee pot.
"Fire by default. I already feel like a prune."
After exchanging her damp clothing for the warmth of her flannel bathrobe, Malinowski grabbed the charcoal robe that lay at the foot of the brass bed and returned to her lover.
Coming up from behind, she wrapped her arms around McCoy and let her hands drift downward to undo and remove his soggy shorts and underwear.
"Let's get you warmed up," she whispered before slipping his tee shirt over his head.
Ignoring the robe she held out, McCoy turned around to face her and pressed her to his goose bumped frame.
"Fine by me," he replied before giving her leisurely kiss.
After their passionate afternoon the pair, after recovering from the physical shock of the chilly waters of Central Park, found themselves recharged emotionally and physically. Throughout their trip home the couple found it difficult, if not at times, impossible to keep their hands off one another.
"Don't start something you won't be able to finish, counselor," she warned before stepping back and thrusting the robe into his hands.
"Yee have little faith," he began as he covered himself."What makes you think I'm not only capable finishing, but-"
McCoy stopped short when Malinowski pointed to the flashing light of the answering machine.
"How much you want to wager one of us has to go to work?"
"I'm the boss, remember? I'm the one that gets to stay home and call other people in on a Saturday," he said as he handed her a mug filled with coffee and reached for the bottle beside the answer phone."What about you? You said you weren't on call this weekend."
Malinowski shook her head, responding to the scotch bottle he held over her mug.
"Not to catch cases, but you never know. One of the ADA's on call might be having a problem with a case or trouble finding a judge," she responded as held the mug to her lips.
"It's probably my daughter cancelling for tomorrow,"McCoy said as added some soctch to his coffee."I warned you Brooke. Becky saying she'd come for bunch, does mean she'll actually show up. The last time she was this upset with me we didn't speak for almost a decade."
Malinowski knew she had been playing a long shot when she telephone Rebecca McCoy earlier that week. She almost felt ashamed playing the guilt card when the young woman politely, but firmly told Malinowski it best for all involved if father and daughter had some 'space' and did not see each other for a while.
"If that's the case, I'll just have to go up to Maine myself and talk some sense into your child," she said as she pressed the button on the machine.
Much to their surprise, the message was from the lead prosecutor in the case against Dmitri Nazac, one of the two men who had held her captive. The Canadian prosecutor had phoned to tell her Nazac had plead out and that she would not be needed to testify, after all.
McCoy watched silently as his lover stared down at the steaming mug. He knew the call had to be a mixed blessing for her. The relief she may have felt knowing she would not have to relive her ordeal on the stand was more than likely overshadowed, by being cheated out of the opportunity to confront her captor.
"Maybe if you call Canada and hear the terms of the deal," he began as he joined her by the fireplace.
Malinowski shook her head as she opened the fireplace curtain and picked up a piece of firewood.
"It's done. It doesn't matter," she said as he took the wood from her hands."The charges were capital charges. I suppose it's not like Nazac will be out of the street anytime soon."
"We can still go up for his allocution."
"No," she said with sharpness she hadn't intended."The idea was for that bastard to have to sit there and take it while I told the whole world what he did...or any family or friends of his that might have shown up to find out what he really is, not for me to have sit there and listen to him tell it….for him to finish his statement with how much he regrets what he did. when the only thing he really regrets is getting caught."
McCoy put a tentative arm around his lover as he sat beside her as they watched the fire begin to blaze.
"All these years, Jack. All these years of watching victims sit through it. Now the shoe's on the other foot, I guess. I don't know how any of them sat through those allocutions…listening to defendants cry their crocodile tears just to get a better deal at sentencing…"
He knew she was right. McCoy thought about the day the divorce attorney Sheila Adkins had allocated for killing the doctor of one of her clients. He could still hear the voice of the victim's distraught husband bellowing at the defendant.
"You're sorry? You killed by wife over a divorce settlement and you're sorry!?!"
"I know you well enough to enough to know any deals you made were not made to only benefit the defendant. Sometimes the only way a victim gets any kind of justice is through plea bargain. You know that too, Brooke."
Malinowski leaned against her lover and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She looked up and seeing his eyes clouded with worry, she reached up to touch his cheek.
"Jack, I'm sorry. What you did today…our wonderful day together…I'm not going to let this ruin it," she said as her lips replaced her hand.
"It was an amazing day and we will have more amazing days. That doesn't mean you can't talk about your feelings…or your fears. Brooke, you haven't said anything about the fact Ivan Janovich is still out there somewhere. Whether you want to admit it or not, I know that has to affect you. on some level."
"On some level," she repeated as she turned to face hiim."My head tells me he'd be a fool to come after me now. Rostov is dead. I'm of no value to him now. His partner has already given him up. Anyone with half a brain would have gotten on the first plane out of the country and never looked back. But logic aside, I look for him every time I leave the loft. Everytime I get a train or go to the market, I wonder if he's watching."
"Understandable," McCoy replied."You haven't been back to see Liz Olivett since you started back to work last week. Maybe you should..."
"I know what you're going to say and I agree. Liz is a marvelous therapist. I appreciate her finding time for me in her schedule more than she'll ever know. But…well…you know I've been communicating with Nadia Brezin. Jack, Nadia suggested I come to Moscow and meet with the group there. Now that I know I won't have to take time off for the trial, I'm thinking maybe I should take her up on her invitation and go. I know if I asked Michael for the same week I was going to take to go to Canada, he'd approve it. What do you think?"
McCoy couldn't help up think of the irony of the situation. As much as he believed Nicholas Brezin deserved to be punished for committing murder, he couldn't help but admire not only Brezin himself, but the decent and kind daughter he had helped raise.
"I think you better resist the urge to bring me back a hat back," he said with a knowing smile, as the phone began to ring."It's one thing to replace the fedora with a homemade cap, but I refuse to walk around Manhattan looking like a refugee from the Cold War."