Title: Inside These Lines – Part 4

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Law & Order. This is for entertainment only (and something I would've loved to see happen).

Pairing: Mike/Connie

Notes: This is my first Law & Order fic.

*Flower on the Water

To hear your voice, to see you smile

To sit and talk to you awhile

To be together the same old way

That would be our greatest wish today

xXxXxXxXx

"She's gone." Connie managed to get out as she stood in the chill of the night air, only her arms wrapped around herself for protection. "She's gone and I don't know what to do."

"Where are you?" Mike asked, the dull sleepy tone of his voice suddenly sounding wide-awake.

"At the hospital entrance. I don't know ... I'm not sure …" Connie said, clearly lost as she tried to convey what had happened.

"Who's with you?"

"I'm waiting for my sister, she didn't make it. Oh god, Mike, they didn't get to say goodbye."

"Have you called her?"

"No." The only thing Connie thought was that she needed to wait for them. "They're on their way. Marcel wanted to see Mom."

"Connie you need to go home. What is Marcel's number?"

"What?"

"If you give me her number I'll call her and tell her where you are."

"I told her I would meet her here." Connie looked up at the tower of windows above her, all with a soft glow. Behind each was someone's family, someone's mother or father. Now, Connie thought, she didn't have either. "I can't leave Mom."

"Connie." His voice was soft but firm. "Can I call someone to be with you?"

"I'm fine," Connie suddenly said, "I need to wait for Marcel. In a few hours I'll be able to call Felipe."

Mike recognized instantly that she had transferred from shock to work mode. He guessed she could stay like that until she had organized the hell out of everyone around her. He also knew that at that point it would hit her again, and hit her hard.

"Connie please let me call someone for you." He tried to insist, knowing it was pointless.

"Marcel's here." Connie announced

"Connie -" That was it. She was gone again and he was on the other side of the county with no way to help her.

xXxXxXxXx

"En compañía con Cristo, Quién murió y ahora las vidas, pueden disfrutar en su reino, en donde todos nuestros rasgones se limpian lejos.

Únanos juntos otra vez en una familia, para cantar su alabanza por siempre jamás." The priest finished with a sign of the cross.

"Amen." Everyone replied.

"Now we will hear a passage from Consuela and Marcel." The priest stepped aside and bowed his head.

"To hear you laugh, to hear you cry." Connie squeezed Marcel's hand as if to steady her as she continued, "Or just a chance to say 'goodbye' … to say the things we didn't say, that would be our greatest wish today."

"To comb your hair, to lace your shoes. Buy some flowers, we'll let you choose." Connie still held Marcel's hand as she continued where Connie had left off, "A phone call when we're away, just to see if you're okay."

Connie again took over from Marcel. "But all we can do is throw a flower on the water, and remember how we loved you." She paused as her voice started to crack. Her eyes scanned the group of solemn faces, most of whom she remembered from her childhood. It wasn't until Marcel finished with 'we'll miss you Mom' that Connie saw him. His head lowered, his hands resting by his side, the crisp white shirt standing out against his back suit and tie. She'd told him not to come, that she was okay and that he had too much to do. But there he stood quietly, without a word, in support of her.

Connie remained with her hand wrapped around her sister's as the coffin was lowered down. Once the priest had finished his final blessing, they each picked up a rose and let it fall onto the coffin. As family members, and then friends followed, each dropped a single rose onto the coffin, Connie released her sister's hand to her husband. She watched for a moment as they started to walk toward her waiting family, leaving Connie to watch Mike as he remained in the background.

Connie waited until the last of her mother's friends made their way to their cars before she walked toward the tree that Mike was standing under as he waited.

"You came." Connie said as she stopped a few steps from him.

"It was a beautiful service." Mike took a step closer as he spoke, "How are you doing?"

"I'm …" Connie paused, closing her mouth not really sure what to say next. It was first time anyone had asked her how she was. In the last three days she had been so wrapped up in organizing everything and how everyone else was that she hadn't had time to think about herself. "I don't know," she said honestly, turning slightly toward her mother's grave "She knew it was her time and she's where she wanted to be –with him."

"Your stepfather?" Mike questioned.

"A few weeks ago she reminded me that she wanted to be with him."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Connie asked, confused.

"Where are you staying?" Mike pushed his hands into his pockets. "Are you staying in your mother's house?"

"I don't really have anywhere else. My sister has her kids and I'd just be in the way at her house." This time it was Connie that took the step closer. "I really should be getting back to the house to help Marcel." She waited for a moment before asking her next question not sure what she wanted his answer to be. "How long are you in town for? Can you come?" She added, not giving him time to answer her first question.

"Yes, if you want me too."

Mike spent most of the afternoon in the corner of the small living room with a older lady who's dark hair had long ago turned grey giving him the history of Connie's mother and by extension, most of Connie's family. Mike did find it odd that for a lady who was seemly willing to tell him everything she'd ever known or heard about Connie's family, she wouldn't talk about Marcel's husband. In fact, she made a point of saying she wouldn't 'discuss' him. Now Mike watched as Marcel's husband all but pulled her from the house. Mike stepped forward only to be stopped by Connie placing a hand on his chest.

"Leave it. God knows if she wants to go with him you can't stop her." Connie's voice held a twinge of sadness.

"Does he always treat her like that?" Mike couldn't believe anyone related to someone as strong as Connie would let themselves be treated that way.

Connie began picking up the plates in front of her. "Since they were 16 ... no matter what he does or how bad it gets, she goes right back to him. I use to wonder how those women justified it to themselves, when they tell you it was their fault … well, it turns out they believe it," she said as she continued to pack away plates of uneaten food. Changing subjects abruptly, she continued, "The one thing you can always rely on - anytime you get everyone in the same room - there will be more food than even an army could eat."

"Connie." Mike wanted her to stop for a moment. From everything he'd seen in the last few hours, Connie had been doing everything. She needed to stop. "Connie."

"I just need to get this packed away." Connie continued to move around the room gathering everything she could, carting it into the kitchen.

Mike removed his jacket and threw it over the back at the chair. "Right." His tie followed landing on top of his jacket as he cleared the rest of the paper plates from the living room, leaving her with nothing to do as he pushed passed her.

"Connie." He grabbed her arm to ensure she couldn't slip away from him. "Stop."

"I need to-"

"You need to stop." Mike pulled her a little closer to him. "You can't keep doing this." He stopped short of telling her just how tired she looked.

"Mike, if I … I …" Her voice cracking almost to point that she couldn't be heard as she dropped her head.

"It's okay." This time without thinking too much he pulled her into his arms, her head tucking into the crook of his neck. "It's okay."

"She's gone," Connie managed to get out.

"I know." He pulled her tighter into him, one arm wrapped low around her back, the other brushing softly through her hair.

"I don't know what to do, I don't know why I'm here." She had both hands on his chest, her finger gripped tightly to his shirt. "It wasn't meant to end this way ... she wasn't meant to leave me here." Connie hiccupped trying to control her voice. "I don't know what to do now."

Mike turned his head slightly to get an idea of where he was in the room. "You need to rest."

"Please." Connie dug her fingers tighter in to his shirt. "I-"

"Shhh." He said as he guided her to the couch. "Lay down." Mike pulled a small cushion onto his lap, managing to get her to rest her head on it. "Just get some rest," he said as he started to again brush his finger through her hair. "I'll be here."

He wasn't surprised that it only took a few minutes for her breathing to even out and her shoulders to relax. Mike had always known how hard she'd worked to get to where she was. Looking around the small room, Mike saw evidence of her childhood everywhere: photos, trophies, even a child's painting from long ago. Next to these were newer photos, a new painting - the continuation of a happy family.

These were all things missing from his house. He guessed it was the happy memories that pulled her home. He also guessed it was those memories that had made the last 12-months so hard for her. How do you watch someone you love, someone that was so much a part of who you are, waste away?

It was just as he was beginning to arrange his calendar in his head, trying to work out if he could stay an extra day, that he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Mike waited for it to stop before he carefully leaned himself forward just enough to pull it out. The call had been from Alex and he guessed it wasn't good news. Two quick text messages and he was reading an emailed copy of the report she'd been calling about.

The DNA did match the last victim, so it wasn't a copycat. Henry was in lockup at the time at the attack. That meant he was innocent or he had a partner. 'His girlfriend, maybe,' Mike thought as he continued to read the rest of the report. The latest attack may have been a ploy to get him released, but that might just be wishful thinking. However, the result was the same, the next email to show up in his inbox was a motion to dismiss filed by Henry's lawyer. The note from Alex had been simple, 'Hearing booked for tomorrow afternoon'.

That sealed any hope of him being able to stay an extra day. This job was meant to have perks but as yet Mike hadn't seen one. He started typing an email back to Alex., instructions that until they knew otherwise Henry was their man, Mike wanted to know where Henry's girlfriend was during the attack and if there was even the possibility that anyone may have assisted him with this. Mike wanted her to argue that because condoms were used, they had no way of knowing if they were looking for one attacker or two.

Mike felt Connie move before he realised she was awake. ''Hey," Mike said as he hit the button to lock his phone, placing it on the end table.

"How long did I sleep for?" Connie asked.

Mike turned his watch over, "About four hours."

"Oh god, I'm sorry." Connie looked around as if she was trying to work out where she was.

"Don't be. Gave me a chance to work without seeming rude." Mike paused, taking the opportunity to take in her appearance while she was still waking. Her hair was a little longer, with a little more blonde through it than he last remembered. However, the last time she was in New York, all he could remember thinking was that she was working too hard, she wasn't taking care of herself. He'd wanted to pull her into a hug when she'd been in his townhouse. "Are you hungry? I can order something if you want," he said, hoping to distract himself.

"Are you serious?" Connie laughed as she pulled herself to her feet. "Have you seen all the food in this house? I won't have to cook for a month."

"I didn't know you cooked," Mike said, continuing the joke.

"I ... I …" Connie stumbled over her words, before pulling her face back into something that looked a little pained. "I cooked for Mom. She didn't like takeout." Her voice had hardened.

"Connie I'm sorry … I didn't mean to..." Mike stood just a few feet behind her, not sure what he should do or say. "I -"

"Don't worry. I'm going to go change." Connie cut him off as she pushed passed him toward her room.

"Connie." His voice dropped as her door closed and he banged his fist on the end table to his left.

Connie let herself fall onto her bed, only it wasn't really her bed and it wasn't really her house. What was left of her house was still packed into a storage unit in Brooklyn. She could leave. It had been the only thought running through her head, even though she knew it wasn't that simple. She had an employment contract to complete, and not that she wanted to think too much about it, she was going to have to take care of her mother's affairs before she could really even entertain the idea of going anywhere.

But none of that changed what she wanted to do right now: she wanted to go home, go back to New York, even if it felt like she was running away. And she wasn't sure what to say to Mike, but she'd never been so happy to see him as she was today. Connie wanted him to stay here almost as much as she wanted to go back to New York. The problem was right now he was a reminder of everything she wanted but couldn't have. A reminder that she put her life on hold. Him being here made her feel guilty for wondering what her life would be like right now if she'd just stayed in New York.

Would she have been able to break through Mike's defenses and get more out of him than suggestive one-liners? Connie wasn't sure if it was the grief that was stirring up her feeling, but she'd give anything to be able to push him on one of comments right now.

No matter what she wanted she knew that hiding in here wasn't an option. She unzipped her black dress. Remembering how funny it had felt picking it out that morning. Connie's mother was never a sad women and letting her daughters dress in black was something she never would've allowed. Only her mom wasn't here anymore, the person who had supported Connie, had insisted that she get an education and most importantly make sure that she would be able to look after herself. Her mother had instilled the self-confidence that Connie had carried throughout her whole life and she wasn't sure how she was going to continue without the safety net of her mother.

Dressed in jeans and cream-colored long sleeve top, Connie stepped back into the living room, only to find Mike waiting with his jacket over his arm.

"I should go," he said once he saw her, "I'm just upsetting you."

She took an abrupt step toward him, reaching out even though she wasn't close enough to touch him. "No." Connie had never been forward with him, she didn't know why but she had always been waiting for him. "Please stay." Connie lowered her voice and her eyes, "I really don't want to be here on my own."

"Okay," he said simply and placed his coat back over the chair next him, "What can I do?"

"I'm not sure... just... this is the first time … I don't have anything to do." Connie was starting to wonder if her problem was that her life had become about her mother and now that had been taken away from her. "I'm not sure I can be here." The thought made her sick.

"Okay."

"The house seems so small now. My mom had so much life and she made everything around her seem so much larger."

"Connie you don't have to stay here." Mike looked around as if the answer was in front of him. "We can go somewhere else or…?" Mike's tone gave away just how unsure he was with the suggestion.

"I think maybe I just need to get out tonight," Connie gave him a tight smile in the hope of holding back the tears that were starting to well. "Maybe..." was all she got out before she lost control and the tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, quickly, brushing her face with the back of her hand. Connie didn't want to cry in front of him, she was scared that she was making Mike uncomfortable, that she'd make him nervous enough that he'd want to leave. "I'm just-"

"Hey." He took another step closer to her. "How about we get dinner?" He waited a moment. "Something you haven't had lately?"

"Mexican."

"Mexican?" Mike said with raised eyebrows. "Okay."

"I want take-out Mexican. For the last year I've eaten real food and every time I think I would love to go to Comida's." Connie said by way of explanation.

"Comida's?" Mike questioned in his terrible accent.

"Yeah. It's this little out-of-the-way place my stepdad would take Marcel and I. We would get to order anything we wanted." Connie paused with a smile. "The first time we went the only thing on the menu I recognised was tacos. Needless to say, they were nothing likes Mom's tacos and I've been ordering them ever since."

"Comida's it is." He said, holding the door open for her.

xXxXxXxXx

Despite an uncomfortable night on the couch Mike still had a smile on his face from the night before. He turned his pen over in his hand as thought of Connie smiling. Dinner had felt like old times, a late night spent eating takeout in his office as they discussed whatever case they were working on. Only last night Connie told him about growing up in LA, how much she loved running in the sun and that's why she loved the snow in New York. It was so different to what she knew. The thing that had kept him smiling was the kiss goodnight.

It was simple and quick, but it didn't change the fact that she didn't pull away. Connie had made up the couch for him and they were just standing there, staring at each other. Mike wasn't sure what lead him to do it, Connie's soft smile, or that she seemed to be lingering, her hand smoothing the pillow absently as if she was waiting for something. So without thinking he just leaned in and gently brushed his lips across her.

With a shake of his head Mike clicked to the next page on his laptop and jotted a few notes down before he continued reading the information Alex had sent him. What he should've been doing was reviewing the daily reports that his assistant had sent, but they could wait for the flight home. Even if Alex didn't need his help, he guessed early on that this one wasn't going to be easy - it was the reason he'd assigned it to her.

"Hey."

"Hey! Sorry." Mike looked up from his computer screen, a little startled, "did I wake you?" He grabbed his watch to check the time.

"I couldn't sleep." Connie settled in across from him. "I guess you couldn't either."

"It's seven for me." Mike said holding up his watch. "Would normally have been at work for an hour by now."

"It looks like you have been." Connie turned his note pad a little. "Is this the social rapist case?"

"Yeah." Mike pushed his hands through his hair and leaned back on the chair.

"Not going well?"

"I'm not even sure we have the right guy," Mike said as he watched Connie push herself up from the table and move into the kitchen. "The only thing I can really hold him on is drug charge."

"Who's got the case?"

"Alex." Mike paused for a second and looked up at Connie. "She's doing a great job."

"Here." Connie placed a coffee in front of him. "She used to have your job you know."

"Yeah ... and I know why she gave it up." Mike let the smile fall from his face. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know. I have so much to do here with the house and everything. Not to mention I still have the better part of six months to go on my contract with the LA office." Pausing, this time it was Connie giving him the shy smile. "Would you like me to come back and work for you?

Mike struggled to keep his face as it was. "I'd like you to come back … but you can't work for me."

xXxXxXxXx

The title of this chapter *"Flower on the Water" and words spoken by Connie and her sister at the funeral is a song by an Australian signer songwriter John Williamson and it is a tribute to the victims of the Bali bombings.

The first four lines in "Flower On The Water" (To hear your voice, to see you smile / To sit and talk to you awhile / To be together the same old way / That would be our greatest wish today) were inspired by words that Williamson saw written alongside a photo of one of the perished victims. The author was originally unknown however Williamson has found the lines' author.

The lyrics talk about how you would give anything for one more day; to laugh, talk, chat with the person you've lost. If you can access the song I recommend it. It is absolutely beautiful.