McCoy's mind flashed back to a late night visit from his then assistant, Jamie Ross, as he listened to Malinowski's end of the conversation with DA Michael Jackowicz. The conversation involved another hostage and another offender's outrageous deal for a walk. As a prosecutor McCoy knew the deal would set a deadly precedent if made; yet it was a deal the mising man's spouse saw as a life line for her husband.

He still could hear the sound of Ruth Titus's voice…

"What if it was your husband or your wife…," the proud black woman demanded of himself and Jamie Ross, hours after her husband had been kidnapped by Henry Harp and his accomplice.

He still wished she'd been right. McCoy still wished that the cabby had been found alive and well. He still wished the extra time he had instructed Ross to give the cops to find the cabby had been enough. He still had no regrets about playing fast and loose with his ethics and his morals, as well as the law. Ensuring that murdering bastard Henry Harp had to answer for his crimes, seemed worth any price, at the time.

As much as it still pained him when he thought of the look of disillusionment defense attorney Sally Bell's eyes; being responsible for putting that look on the face of his former lover still seemed like a small price to pay to see Harp get the punishment he deserved.

"…I told Brody to cite Harp, as well as Jacobs," McCoy heard his lover reply, "His damn PD should know a deal like that won't fly in New York state, especially after the Jacobs case… Agreed. I'll keep you posted."

"Now I feel my age," McCoy said as he hobbled with her to the sofa."When an attorney hears his cases cited like old standards from law school..."

"It should be music to his hears," she finished. "If I didn't have them to cite I'd be at a loss Jack. We both know that cabby was dead as soon as those guys got in the car. There's no way I can deal. Not that I'd want to. If we still had the death penalty in this state, I'd have a needle in this guy's arm faster than you could say 'appeal'."

"Death penalty cases are tough Brooke. Have you ever sat through an execution," he asked as he slipped his arm around her. "I have and I can think of more pleasant experiences."

Malinowski nodded. She remembered the Mickey Scott case. Not only because of the irony the papers noted the next day, when Claire Kincaid died due to her injuries from a car crash, but because it was one of the last executions carried out in the state.

"Once. Clint Renard and I prosecuted the Connetquot Park rapist back in the early nineties," she said thoughtfully gazing at the fireplace. "It was my first capital case. Small potato's compared to some of your cases, but- "

"Raping and gutting fourteen women in six months is hardly small potato's," McCoy retorted as he recalled the case. "You went with Renard to watch the execution?"

"Yeah. Went and got drunker that night. Drunker than I have before or since," she said as a chill ran down her spine. "All that Catechism and every hail Mary's seemed pretty inconsequential after seeing that. I'd been on the fence about the church since Roe v Wade. After the execution, I pretty much excommunicated myself."

"Thou shalt not kill takes on a whole different meaning when you prosecute someone like that," McCoy responded as he watched her add another log to the fire.

He remembered his false bravado the day of the Scott execution. Bravado, he'd thought at the time, he was showing to reassure Kincaid. Bravado he had later come to realize he'd used to push aside his own sense of guilt and confusion about having a hand in the death of another person.

"Did you drink alone or did Clint keep an eye on you?"

Malinowski turned from the fire with a start. She scanned McCoy's face, the question instantly making her wary that what was left of their morning could be tainted by the start of yet another confrontation.

What she saw make her visibly relax before she returned to his waiting arms. His face was interested not accusing, this eyes holding an understanding only another prosecutor who'd faced the same ordeal could have.

"When we got back to the office, Jackowicz took us down to The Barrister. Even though the three of us agreed the death penalty was a fitting punishment...I mean one look at the autopsy photos and even the biggest advocate against the death penalty would have wanted to see a needle in this guys arm… all that a side Michael knew it was going to be rough for both of us. I downed shots until a passed out…I was told later I passed out and in Michael's arms. Luckily for both of us, his wife is a saint. The next morning I woke up in his guest room and his wife, Ruth, tried to nurse me back to health with her homemade soup."

"God I wish now that I had let Adam take me to lunch that day," McCoy whispered."If I had, I wouldn't have been in that bar...I wouldn't have been waiting for …"

"Claire?"

Malinowski sighed as she ran her hand over the stubble that begged to be shaved on McCoy's face. She watched him nod as he closed his eyes. While she silently cursed herself for not anticipating this turn in the conversation, she also felt closer to him knowing the subject was one that McCoy usually discussed with only the select few that remained from that night.

"She was a lucky woman," she whispered as she put her arms around him and pressed herself against his chest. "She knew it too, Jack. She had your love. It doesn't get better than that."

"Sometimes I can't help but miss her…I can't help but wonder how it all would have turned out," he said softly, his head resting against her shoulder. "What kind of lawyer she would have grown into…whether she would have stayed with the DA's office…whether she would have stayed…"

"With you," she asked stoking his hair, much as a mother does trying to comfort a frightened child. "Only Claire herself can answer that. All I can tell you is; you're a man who loves a woman well. A man who loves a woman well in all the ways that count. Claire knew that. I know that. Don't you forget that, Jack."

"You'll always have my love Brooke," he said before gently kissing her cheek.

"As you'll always have mine, Jack," she said softly as she ran a hand over his face once more. "You know, if you're willing to give me another chance, I really could give you a smooth shave and not play any games this time."

McCoy leaned back and thoughtfully considered the idea, a slow smile forming as he recalled the first time he had agreed to trust his lover with a the dreaded blade.

"You think you have time? What about your murdering kidnapper?"

Malinowski shrugged her shoulders, as she turned to look out the window at the downpour.

"Not much I can do until I hear back from the ADA on the case. Like I said, I couldn't deal this down even if I wanted to. The verdict in Jacobs sealed the deal on plea bargains made under duress to find a hostage. If this guy is smart, he'll settle for not adding another murder count to the indictment and help the cops find his partner and the hostage. Even if he's not so smart, Jackowicz himself said if the guy doesn't talk to walk away from the table and threaten to add a count of hindering prosecution to the indictment."

"And Michael can live with the fallout from the voters if it turns out the driver was alive and your office wouldn't deal, "McCoy asked with genuine interest.

He knew even his beloved mentor and friend Adam Schiff had on occasion wavered under the weight of political pressure under such dire circumstances. The Harp case was one of the few examples that quickly came to mind. At the time, McCoy could sense how torn his boss had been; all involved knowing how unlikely it was a hostage who had seen the faces of his captors would be allowed to live, yet knowing there was a moral obligation to waver if there was even the slimmest of chances the hostage could be alive. Even the seasoned politician Arthur Branch, had at times found the pull of political correctness verses bitter experience hard to balance, on occasion.

"You forget, Michael's old than father time," she responded with a knowing smile. "People can't remember a time when he wasn't DA. That buys him a lot of political capital. Besides, I suspect losing the next election would be a mixed blessing for him. It would give him an excuse to spend more time with his grandchildren and less time those rubber chicken dinners."

McCoy caught he hand as she started to get up and gently brought her to rest in his lap.

"What about you? You really think you can focus on pampering me while you have a felon on the loose back in Islip?"

Malinowski shook her head. Sometimes she wondered why she even tried to get anything by a man who was not only so savvy about the law and its ramifications, but a man who seemed to know how to read her so well.

"You know part of me want to jump on the next train out there, but we both know it wouldn't change anything," she replied as she leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips before starting a trail of kisses from his jaw line to just behind his left ear.

God, just the smell of him makes me wish this day would never end, she thought as she took a deep breath. McCoy had yet to take that shower she knew he desired so. Yet the smell of yesterday's cologne, combined with the scent of their lovemaking and the warmth of his skin caused her to tingle with anticipation.

"Besides," she continued as she felt his hand slip underneath her sweater, "this is Brody's case, not mine. You, Mr. McCoy, have got to learn how to delegate."

McCoy chuckled as he recalled those same words coming from his former assistant's lips almost forty eight hours before.

"What's so funny," Malinowski asked as she leaned closer to her lover, attempting to fill the curious hand that rested on her breast.

"Connie said the same thing when I asked for an update on the Manning/Steele trial."

"Manning/Steele trial," she repeated her eyes wide with surprise. The double homicide that appeared more and more to have begun as a pissing contest between teenagers over a ball, was sensational enough to have received prominent press coverage that Malinowski had read about it while she was on her extended stay in Islip "Cutter decided to try them together?"

McCoy shifted uncomfortably, his hand unconsciously slipping away from its task.

"Cutter made the decision…after I gave him a little nudge in that direction."

"Nudge?"

"Nudge…well…maybe push is more accurate."

"I hope you know what you're doing," his lover responded as her cellphone began to ring. "You put white as the driven snow Sally Homemaker Mom on trial with black as midnight Angry Urban Dad and she walks…Jesus Jack…you could have a riot on your hands that shuts the whole damn city down."