A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who have stuck with this story. Clarissa, to answer your question, there's one more chapter after this one. Let me know if I get too sappy in this chapter... I'm a hopeless romantic and I have a bad habit of doing that. As always, give me some feedback at the end! Special virtual cookies to whoever can name the movie referenced at the end of the chapter!

Chapter 6

Three Weeks Later

Casey sighed as she slid into yet another bar stool at yet another bar. She hadn't been back to Mulroney's since her entire life and heart had blown up in her face. Over the past three weeks, she threw herself into her work, trying to forget the pain she felt every time she saw Jack to prepare him for trial. Munch had joked that she was more efficient now than ever before—a comment that earned him a very sound slap on the back of the head from Olivia.

As hard as she'd tried, she couldn't erase Jack from her memory. The memory of his kiss left her lips tingling as if she'd just kissed him. As hard as she tried to deny it, she couldn't ignore it anymore. Casey Novak had fallen in love with him.

Her peripheral vision caught a large, muscular shape approach her from her left side. As the bartender handed her a beer, she glanced up to see Elliot slide into the seat next to her. "Counselor," he greeted her with a smile. The bartender came over and he ordered a beer. He turned in his chair just a little bit so that he faced her. "Drowning your sorrows in alcohol?"

She snorted. "Is it that obvious?"

"Jack testifies tomorrow, right?" Elliot glanced down into the glass of amber liquid that the bartender slid him. "You know, we've been kinda concerned about you lately. Liv and me."

Casey looked at him sharply. "I'm perfectly fine, Detective."

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you, Casey. You've been working your ass off, more than usual, and you won't talk to anyone about it."

"That's because there's nothing to talk about, El."

"I don't believe that either." Elliot paused, trying to make the words in his head come out right. "I know how to read people, Case. I saw the way you looked at him at the precinct. I saw the way he looked at you."

Casey sighed again, but said nothing.

"You fell in love with him, didn't you?"

She shook her head, the tears threatening to well up in her eyes again. She'd cried enough in the last three weeks, in the privacy of her own home or office, and she wasn't about to cry in front of Elliot.

"Look, I know how you feel. Your heart's broken into a million pieces, you can't see how you'll move on. You can deny it all you want, Casey, but—"

"You're right, Elliot," she whispered. She laughed, more to choke back a sob than from mirth. "I feel like such an idiot."

"Why?" Elliot looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Casey, you can't blame yourself for what happened. You don't choose who you fall in love with."

She shook her head again, tendrils of red hair falling into her face. "Oh, but I can blame myself. I fell for his charm and good looks, and he turned out to be nothing but a liar."

Elliot scratched the back of his head and leaned toward her. "You know, there's a song that seems to talk about this. 'Is it in his eyes? Oh, no that's not the way…"

Casey chuckled and played with the edge of her glass. "'If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss'."

He smiled and gently patted her on the back. "Only you can answer that, Casey. But if you want my opinion, I saw the way he looked at you. In his apartment, in interrogation. You can't fake that, Casey, despite what the song says. Especially for someone who's had a lot of practice in reading people."

She took another sip of her beer but didn't look at Elliot. "You know, he told me he was going to call off his undercover assignment that morning." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "He said it was… was because he was falling for me."

Elliot put his arm on the back of her chair and leaned toward her. "I believe him, Casey. He might have lied about his profession and his name, but he'd be a fool to lie about his feelings for you." Elliot took a long swig from his beer and stood. "And a fool doesn't survive three years undercover in the Irish mob."

Trial Part 46

"Please state your name and occupation, for the record." Casey turned on her heel to face the witness stand.

"Jack Calhoun, Special Agent with the FBI." Jack leaned forward a little in the chair and watched Casey perform for the jury.

"Have you gone under any other aliases?"

He shifted his weight slightly. "Yes. I've had the name Jack O'Brian for the last three years."

"And why is that?" Casey turned toward the jury, trying to gauge their reactions to him.

"I was deep undercover."

"Doing what?"

"Gathering information to build a case against Philip Sullivan for racketeering and other charges. While I was undercover, I worked security for Mr. Sullivan. Basically I was his assistant. Whenever he was out of town, I would take care of his business affairs."

"Was one of these business ventures called the McHale Company?"

"Yes."

"What is the McHale Company?"

"They advertise help for Irish immigrants and Irish-Americans in getting job help. In reality, Sullivan takes their cash and puts a certain percentage into getting weapons for the Irish Republican Army and keeps a certain percentage for his own business ventures."

Now Casey turned to face the table on the other side of the room, where Connor Miller was shooting Jack daggers with his eyes and shaking with rage. "How do you know Connor Miller?"

"Mr. Miller worked for Philip Sullivan. He joined about six months after Mr. Sullivan hired me on. He worked primarily in Boston until he came to New York about a week before the murders took place."

"And what was Mr. Miller's job?"

"He was an enforcer."

Casey whipped around to face him. "And what does that entail?"

Jack inhaled deeply. "He would take care of any liabilities in the outfit."

"How exactly did he do that?"

A small smile played on the corner of Jack's mouth. "He would kill them."

"Were the Callahans and the Harrises liabilities?"

"Yes. They discovered where their cash was really going and demanded it back, plus a hefty interest fee. Sullivan wasn't too happy with it, and I heard him tell Miller to take care of it."

"And what did 'take care of it' usually mean?"

"He meant to eliminate them. To kill them. Because they were liabilities."

"Objection!" The defense attorney leapt to his feet. "The witness can't possibly know the intent of what was said."

Casey was ready for this one. "Your Honor, Agent Calhoun had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of this operation. Surely he would know the intent of a direct order, since the defendant obviously did."

The judge nodded his head. "I agree. Overruled."

"When was this?" Casey asked, turning back toward Jack.

Jack inhaled and exhaled again, avoiding eye contact with Miller. "The afternoon of their murder."

"And they were dead by six that evening. Did you see Mr. Miller again that night?"

"Yes. At around nine that night. We set up a time and a place where he would meet me after the job was done. We met at Mulroney's Bar on W. 37th Street, and he confirmed he had done the deed."

Suddenly Miller jumped to his feet and lunged at Jack. "You son of a bitch!" he shouted as the bailiffs tried to restrain him. "I'll get you for this! You're dead, you son of a bitch!"

The judge pounded his gavel. "Order!" he yelled as the bailiffs wrapped their arms around Miller's chest. "Get him out of here!" He hit the gavel again as they dragged Miller out, still spewing threats. "We're in recess until tomorrow morning."

Casey looked toward the witness stand just in time to see Jack ushered out by two U.S. marshals. He glanced back toward her, and her eyes met his. They stared at each other for what seemed like ages, until Jack disappeared through the side door.

She sighed and turned toward her table to gather her things. At least the case was a slam dunk. After seeing Miller's outburst, hearing Jack's testimony, and seeing the evidence from the murder scene, there was no way they wouldn't convict.

And yet, there was a bitter-sweetness to it, because despite all the pain she'd been through, she knew would never see Jack again. And it sucked.

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and she jumped a few feet in the air before whipping around to see a bailiff standing behind her, a smirk on his face. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I need to give you this." He handed her a folded slip of paper.

"Thanks," she replied and unfolded the paper. As she scanned the familiar handwriting, she felt that overwhelming urge to cry. Swiftly wiping a stray tear from her eye, she stuffed the paper in her pocket, grabbed her briefcase, and dashed out the door to her car.

Best Western Hotel
Brooklyn, NY

Jack stared out the window of his hotel room, watching the people on the sidewalk go about their daily lives. It was strange, thinking he would soon be leaving all this behind. Over the past three years, he had grown to love the city. And now, he had no idea where he would be living. That was up to the marshals standing outside his door.

A soft knock sounded on his door, and he crossed the room in a matter of seconds. He yanked open the door to reveal none other than Casey Novak standing in the hall. His eyes widened, and neither said anything for a few minutes. They just stood in the hall, staring at each other. Finally, Jack cleared his throat. "I didn't expect you to come," he forced out.

Casey gave him a wan smile. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Jack stepped aside to let her into the room and shut the door behind her. She stood in the center of the room, arms crossed in front of her chest. Jack leaned against the door and stared as an awkward silence settled between them.

She was the first one to break the silence. "Good job in court today," she said, setting her briefcase down on the floor. "Miller's attorney called me on the way over. He wants to plead out. I told him I would accept twenty-five to life, and he accepted. But there's no way a guy like Miller will get paroled."

"Good," Jack nodded. He inhaled deeply, trying to muster up a little courage. This had never happened to him before. No woman had ever made him like this. "I guess you got my note," he said softly.

Casey nodded and swallowed hard. "I guess you know that's really why I'm here." She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as Jack nodded. "Did you mean what you said? About how even liars and fools deserve second chances?"

He nodded again.

"I'm not completely sure I'm inclined to believe that."

Jack unfolded his arms and stood up straight. "I know, and I can't blame you for it." Casey opened her mouth to say something, but he held out his hand to stop her. "Just hear me out. You have every right to be mad at me. But this…" he waved his hand around the room. "My testifying was all for you. To prove to you that I'm not the man that would just lie to you for no reason.

"Everything I told you in the bar that night, about my childhood and my past and my family, was all true. Even the part about falling through my window my freshman year of college. The only thing I ever lied to you about was my profession and my name. If you can't forgive me for it, then I understand, because a relationship is built on trust."

The tears threatened to well up in Casey's eyes again, and Jack noticed. He moved off the door and slowly started to walk toward her.

"But, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and if there's even an ounce of affection for me, and if you think you can trust me again…" Now he was standing just a few inches from her. She took a deep breath, and the smell of his cologne nearly made her go weak at the knees. He gently lifted her chin with his forefinger so that green met blue once again. "I would very much like to know what it would be like to spend just one night with you while I still can. Because, Casey Novak," he gently took her hand with his other hand, "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you. From the moment I saw you, I loved you."

Casey felt a single tear slide down her cheek, and she took another deep breath. She looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. "That's not fair," she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. "What's not fair?"

"Using that line from Pride and Prejudice. That's my favorite chick flick."

Jack grinned. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

She reached up with one hand and grabbed his neck, pulling him down to her, capturing his lips with her own. She smiled into the kiss when she felt his hands settle on her hips, and she reached up with her other hand to bury her fingers in his hair. Jack skimmed his tongue along her lips and nipped at her bottom lip, and it was his turn to smile as she granted him entrance. His tongue probed her mouth, and she moaned when his fingers brushed the skin under her shirt.

Suddenly Jack lifted her off her feet, and she pulled back to squeal in surprise and delight. He grinned mischievously at her, and she laughed heartily as she wrapped her long legs around his waist. Casey smiled at him and brushed a short strand of dark hair from his face. "I love you, too," she whispered before crushing her lips to his again.

He walked them toward the bed, their lips still fused together, and gently laid her on the cover. With trembling fingers, Casey reached down and grasped the bottom of his t-shirt. Jack broke the kiss long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head, hissing as her fingers brushed his bare skin. His lips moved to her neck, and her hum of delight reverberated through his body. Casey ran her nails across his well-formed abs and smiled when they tightened under her fingers. "Good Lord, woman," he growled against her skin.

"No talking," she whispered, putting one finger on his kiss-swollen lips. Just the sound of his voice sent shivers through her body.

Casey's breath hitched as he reached for the top button of her blouse. "As you wish," he whispered, deftly sliding the button from its hole and revealing more of her cleavage.

She chuckled. "There you go again with obscure movie quotes."

"Shh." Jack unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, kissing and nipping his way down her chest, and slid it off her shoulders. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin on her waist, eliciting a moan from her. "No talking."

But it was his turn to moan as she reached for the zipper of his jeans, and he slid his hands under her to get the zipper of her skirt. Casey lifted her hips, allowing him to slowly slide her skirt off her body, and then she sat up to push his jeans down, kissing her way down his chest and legs.

She lay back on the bed, in just her bra and panties, and looked up at him. Her eyes widened in surprise when he took a step back, clad in just his boxers, and just stared at her. For a second, she thought he wanted to stop. "What?" she asked, her chest tightening in fear.

Jack just shook his head and smiled. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled tearfully and grabbed his hand. "Come're." She yanked him down on top of her.

As the red and orange streams of the setting sun entered the room through the crack in the curtains, the two of them communicated their feelings in the most intimate way on the face of the earth.