Title/Author: "Between the Bars: Logan" by n.s.

Rating: T (minor language, some suggestive scenes)

Summary: A not-canon-but-not-not-canon take on Mike Logan and Claire Kincaid's relationship through seasons 4-6; acknowledgement of Jack McCoy/Claire, also

Disclaimer:I don't own any of these characters. This story is brought to you by 20-year-old repeats of Law & Order that happen to coincide with my daughter's nap time.

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Something changed during the Rudman case. She called him out of the blue one afternoon when he was drowning in a sea of paperwork. He picked up his phone thinking it was Eichmann returning his call from OCCB, but it was her and even though their interactions had barely made it past drinks and dinner, with little more than fleeting physical contact—who was keeping who at arm's length was pretty much a tie—there was an intimacy when she spoke this time.

"Meet me for a drink?"

It was 3 o'clock, and a Tuesday, but he could hear that jagged edge scraping through her voice on the phone and felt pulled towards it.

He met her at Flaherty's an hour later. She was sitting at the bar and her hair was down again, sticking out from under an old Boston Red Sox hat, and she was in jeans and a faded Harvard tee shirt.

His drink was cooling on a napkin beside her, designating the seat, and he slide onto it, brushing her gently from her shoulder to her elbow in greeting. She smiled the quick, tight, reserved semi-smile he'd seen her give so many people in the office and didn't exactly meet his eye.

"Rough day, counselor?"

"You might say that, detective," she said darkly, finally meeting his eyes with her own and raising her glass slowly. "Here's to law degrees, and the very valuable paper they're printed on."

He returned the gesture, tapping her glass lightly with his own.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"All right," he agreed, taking a sip of the beer.

They polished off four more rounds over the next two hours. When they left, his tie was unknotted and he had an arm slung around her waist, and she was giggling into his shoulder and had looped her arm around his midsection.

"You know, you'll get killed in this city wearing this," he remarked as they sauntered to the corner to hail a cab. He flicked the bill of the Red Sox cap, and she grinned up at him before pulling him down for a kiss that surprised him with its intensity.

"That's what you're here for, right?" She asked his rather stunned face a moment later, barely breaking the kiss so she practically said the words into his mouth, "To protect and serve?"

They took the cab to her apartment. Two hours later, as she drifted to sleep with her head cradled on his naked stomach, he smoothed back her hair behind her ear and said, "You know, Claire, I lied to you."

She visibly stiffened, but didn't turn her head to look at him.

"The truth is, I do hate lawyers," he finished.

She smiled so wide he felt her cheeks move against his navel.

"Me too."