Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters and stories belong to NBC and Dick Wolf.

A/N: Another chapter. The two women start speaking with their significant others. Study break. Four symphonies, eleven concertos, and an opera later. Yes, I am a classical freak. Please review. Thanks. Love, Lawabidingchild.

A killer lurks quietly
He's in the shadows
Waiting for the moment
When death is his calling

Time is running courses
The curtain is about to open
The show will begin
And breathing may become…difficult.

Connie awoke that night to a soft rustle in the kitchen. She bolted upright for fear that maybe an intruder was lurking about the area. Connie grasped at the sheets and searched rapidly for a robe to wear over her cotton-clad body. She then made a beeline for her new piece of weaponry. The gun in her hands placed a secure feeling in the pit of her stomach. She proceeded to tip-toe into the hallway, forgetting to check if Mike was still in the bed or not.

When she made her way to the kitchen, trying to avoid knocking over tables and chairs alike, she held her gun up steady, as if the next move would be this guy's last. "Don't move, you son-of-a-bitch," she growled into the area. The order was followed by a soft drop and crash of glass on the kitchen floor. Water rolled around the man's feet, creating a small puddle. "Don't speak," she barked.

"Connie, take it easy," ordered the man in a soft whisper. The voice was very familiar, almost soothing.

"Mike?" asked Connie. Mike turned around slowly and Connie lowered the gun as quickly as she could while absorbing the image. She felt relief and guilt spread over her face as she inched closer to him. "Sorry, I thought you were-."

"I know what you thought I was," he said, interrupting her. "What I'm more interested in is the weapon you are carrying around in your hands." He made a gesture to the gun she was holding.

"Abbie's idea. I have a permit."

"Of course you do," groaned Mike. He took the gun and set it down on the counter next to him. He bored his eyes back up at Connie. She seemed defeated. "Is this in any way going to help you defeat these men?"

"It might." Connie looked down at her feet. "I don't have a decent aim yet, but I might be able to hit something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. A person? A beam? I don't know yet." Tears streamed down her face.

"Connie, I don't like this."

"What's there to like? Five Russian mob members are after me and Abbie. There's nothing to like about this."

"Woll's gotten into your head, Connie."

"And he's doing a pretty good job of staying there." She looked at Mike. "You think I want to chase after five crazy men with an even crazier master behind the scenes? The answer is no, Mike. I made that very clear to Abbie, but you can't seem to get Abbie Carmichael to sit still long enough to make your point."

At this point, Mike couldn't seem to take any more of the insanity that came through his life. He strode up to Connie and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. "Are you still going to chase after them?" asked Mike, still concerned.

"I might as well. Everything is getting insane. Five Russian mob members." Connie mused for a moment, and then said the words she would have said earlier if Abbie wasn't the initial target. "Maybe I should step back."

"Consuela Rubirosa, don't say that. You'll have help every step of the way."

"What are you talking about?" asked Connie.

"I contacted Lupo and Bernard. They're willing to help you. So am I."

Connie gripped Mike tightly in her arms. "I love you," she sobbed.

"I love you, too," Mike whispered back, so close to tears himself.

Abbie was lying in bed, her head resting gently on the pillow. Her deep brown hair adorned her head like a halo. It almost pained Jack to have to wake his sleeping love up. He, however, encountered a weapon in Abbie's belongings and wanted to know why she had it. "Abbie," he whispered, shaking her gently, "wake up Abbie."

When Abbie could hear her surroundings, her defense mechanisms kicked in. She whipped up and smacked whoever was jolting her out of her slumber. When she became aware of where she was and who was waking her, she immediately relented on what she was doing. "Jack," she breathed, startled at the fact he surprised her like that. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he reassured her. "I'm more concerned about why there is a gun in your handbag."

"I have a carrying permit for that."

"Of course you do," he sighed. "What does 'Hang 'em High' Carmichael not have?"

"Now you're being difficult," groused Abbie.

"I'm being difficult?" asked Jack. "Me?"

"Yes you," scolded Abbie. "You're being difficult and if you'd stop, I could jump you." Abbie jumped onto him, trying to claim her weapon. He thought none of it. He threw the gun into the shower, and she gave up. Abbie climbed back into bed and nestled herself in the covers. Jack stared at her worriedly. It was when he climbed into bed beside her that she spoke. "Why does that drawer have a lock?" she asked, looking at his bureau of drawers.

Jack threw an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "What are you talking about?" asked Jack.

"That drawer," whispered Abbie, getting up to look for a key. She searched all over the top until she came across a key under a box. When she slid it into the lock, she heard a click signaling her for entrance. That key held the secret to that drawer. She saw socks and boxers at first, but then she found a folded piece of paper and a jewelry box. "What's this?" she asked, opening the paper.

"Abbie, don't," he ordered, but she ignored him. Abbie opened the paper and read through what was in there.

"It's to Adam," she said. "I regret to inform you that I need a transfer to another bureau. I can no longer work with Claire Kincaid. My sincerest apologies, but I have been having an affair with Claire ever since we started to work together. But things are taking a step in the right direction. I have proposed to her. I no longer think it would be appropriate to work together once we're married…" Abbie stopped reading there. "This is your assistant before me, isn't it?"

Jack nodded. He turned away from her. "I didn't expect things like this to happen. The night I planned to propose, Claire died in a car accident."

"Where was she?"

"She was dropping Briscoe off at his place and then coming over." Jack still couldn't look Abbie in the eye. "He was the one that called me." Abbie stood there. "I didn't know that she would be in danger. But Briscoe was drunk and Claire didn't want him driving himself home."

"But she died Jack," Abbie reminded him. "You couldn't have prevented her death."

"No I couldn't have. You're right. But I can prevent this one." Jack grabbed Abbie and pulled her to him. He enveloped her in an embrace. She kissed him gently and rested her head on his shoulder. When he mounted her on the bed, he looked at her with a hurt expression in his eyes. He looked broken. He wanted to remind her that he was broken after Claire's death and that he will be again if she does this.

A tear trickled down Abbie's face as she kissed his lips. The kiss made her fall into oblivion. Knowing what she knows about Jack's previous love. But there was still the matter of these insane people. They already started something. What they didn't know was that there was going to be a huge finish. Abbie just clung on to Jack for the rest of the night. Who knew if there was going to be a tomorrow?