Malinowski's words still echoed in the back of his mind as he closed the bathroom door. After listening for a few seconds to her end of the conversation, McCoy knew there had been a change in the case of the missing cabby. Realizing his lover needed privacy, he had slipped into the bathroom to seize the opportunity to take his long awaited shower.

After turning the shower facets to the on position, McCoy began stripping off his clothing. Still pleasantly befuddled by the amazing turn of events over the course of the last twenty four hours, McCoy picked up his electric razor and paused as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over one of the pedestal sinks.

It wasn't the first time his resemblance to his father caught his attention. Critically, he assessed the laugh lines that seemed more pronounced than the last time he'd studied them. He shook his head at the head of hair that seemed, to McCoy, to have gone from dark to light overnight.

It's the grey, he told himself as he began to run the razor over his face. Maybe if I broke down and bought some of that men's hair dye, I'd look less like him…

The eyes that used to hold a look that challenging charm, looked back at him world weary and amused.

Stop it. I'm not him…he told himself as he had countless other times when the memories snuck back to the forefront of his mind. When my was your age, he was used up with too much drink and a lung full of cancer…When he was my age a woman like Brooke wouldn't have given him a second glance, much less made love with him… not the way she did most of last night… God, no wonder the lines look so bad this morning...When was my age, Mom was already gone. The one woman he loved…the woman he held onto so tightly he destroyed them both…

"Hell, I should just be glad I still have hair, the color be damned," he said to himself, a smile forming on his lips as he thought of his former boss Arthur Branch, while attempting to shake the ghosts from his thoughts and to focus on the present.

"Damn. When I saw you come in here, I thought you might beat me to it,"Malinowski said as she took the razor from her lover's hand.

"I'll make it up to you next weekend," he said as turned to face her. "I figured you might be tied up for a while, so I decided to make good use of the time. You know what they say about idle hands."

Malinowski gave him a suggestive grin, as her eyebrows raised while she looked her naked lover up and down.

"You're sure you want to get me started again? A remark like that could lead us back to where we started," she inquired as she pulled her sweater over her head.

"You know you don't have the time," the countered as he pulled her close, his hand slipping underneath the waistband of her jeans. "From what I heard, it sounded like you might be catching a train after all."

"On the contrary, the crisis is over, at least until Monday morning at eight a m when the murdering bastard gets arraigned," she said with false bravado as the bright smile she hoped would hide her dismay, began to quiver.

McCoy nodded as his teasing hand peeked out of her jeans and ran back up to her shoulder.

"They found the cabby," he stated, more than asked, as he ran his fingers over her hair. "You made the right call. How long had he been dead?"

"M E will have a better idea later today," she said as a tear ran down her cheek. "Damn it Jack, I've been doing this almost twenty years and I still can't distance myself. Every time we lose a victim…especially like this... it just seems so useless. God, why couldn't those bastards of just wore masks or knocked the guy out? Why…"

"You know there isn't always an answer. I stopped asking why after I prosecuted my first child rapist," he whispered as he lifted her chin to and began to kiss her tears away.

Looking in her eyes he saw what he'd seen in the eyes of Ron Carver, Tracey Kibre, Alexandra Cabot, as well as a handful of others that had passed through the DA's office during his tenure. It was what made the difference between a good prosecutor and a born prosecutor.

It was a look of bewildered outrage. It was the silent assurance that this prosecutor wouldn't forget the victim in her search for the truth.

"The day I stop asking why is the day I leave my office and never go back," she countered as she stepped back; her hands hurriedly wiping away her remaining tears."I'm so sorry. I so sorry Jack. I don't want to …I want us to have our day without anything else spoiling it."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. We both know this world has as much good in it, as it does evil," McCoy said solemnly. "When you have to face that evil, you'll do it ready to beat it. Mask on, weapons sharp. Right now, you're not in the arena.Right now you're a woman talking to the man who loves her; not a prosecutor talking to a colleague. You're the woman I love and part of the job description is I get to wipe away your tears, so stop apologizing and let me do my job."

Malinowski smiled up at him before kissing him full on the lips.

"I don't know how I managed all these years without you," she whispered before turning her attention to the steamy shower. "Poor baby. If you don't get in there soon, you'll have to shower with only cold water."

"In that case," McCoy quipped as he unhooked her bra and abruptly raised her off the ground. "It's only fair that you come in and keep me warm."

"Jack don't you dare," she shreiked, as the now lukewarm water sprayed over her.

She hardly noticed he had removed her now soaked jeans and panties while she focused on turning on cold water off ,in an effort to bring the temperature back up.

McCoy gave her a devilish grin as he moved his soapy hands over her torso, a distant voice in the back of her mind setting off alarms that began to grow stronger.

"Jack, stop..."she began as her body started to shake and her throat began to tighten, while her mind took her back to a place she had foolish thought she'd forgotten.

"Not until I wash you from head to toe," McCoy playful threatened, as his hands moved lower.

Malinowski closed her eyes and opened her mouth, trying to fill her lungs. The very last thing she wanted to do was let on to McCoy what was happening. They'd come so far in such a short time…

Oh God why now, she silently demanded, as she leaned against the shower wall, much as she had that night…at least she'd thought it was night…when the one called Dmitri had carried her into the shower to rape her…

She could feel her lovers mouth against her lips. As his tongue did its familiar dance, Malinowski focused on suppressing the instinctual gag reflex that fought to expel him. As she felt a new set of tears begin to fall she cursed her lack of control and opened her eyes.

Watching McCoy as he lavished attention on her body, watching his loving attempt to distract her from a dead cabby in Long Island, it was obvious he had no idea how much distress she was in. She knew it was likely he'd chalked her trembling up to the barely warm water. She knew if he caught on…if he realized his actions had traumatized her…he blame himself and they'd lose not only the magic of their special day, but most likely they'd also the intimacy they had worked so hard to regain since her kidnapping.

"Brooke," he said as he opened his eyes. "Are you alright? You're white as a sheet. What's wrong?"

"Cold," she managed to croak as her trembling graduated to a violent round of uncontrollable shaking. "Sssso cccold…"

McCoy immediately shut off the remaining water and reached for a towel. As he tried to wrap her in the cloth, she shook her head and took the towel from him before reaching for one of the two terry cloth robes that rested on the door of the bathroom. As he watched her moved towards the bed in the other room, McCoy shook his head and began to dry himself while he replayed the events of the last few minutes over in his mind.