Challenge Response
Notes: I got really carried a way on this. It is a continuation of a challenge from the l & o 100. It's waaaaaaay over 100! I thought it might fit here, but it sort of took a direction of it's own -so sorry in advance for my digression. It's still not done - I'll decide whether it's worth the effort, based on the response Iget from you all.
Flavor: L&O/ L&O SVU Donnelly, Cragen, McCoy
Length: Like 3000 words (well you guys DID say for the long winded).
Time: The last day Liz Donnelly acts as Elliot and Casey's defense attorney (God, I just can't remember the episode name).
He stared at the Perrier. As the coolness of the fizzing liquid slid down his throat, he imagined the exquisite taste of bliss, sorrowfully lost. Fighting the demon had become a daily ritual. Second nature.As had the carefully orchestrated charade. The mask that masterfully hid the hollow abyss at the core, of a man subordinates looked to as an anchor.
But not today.
Today, she would have been fifty.
“…Marge didn’t make it.”
The words that instantaneously changed him from blissfully hen pecked husband to agonizingly empty widower.
Don Cragen sighed as he checked his watch, then scanned the Island Mermaid, a bar on the coast line of Fire Island. He had placed his order for a patty melt with extra onions, almost thirty minutes ago. Where'd they go for the onions, he wondered irritably, the fields of El Salvador? The shore was Cragen’s refuge. Marge had hated the beach. The beach was were he could escape from the memories that seemed to fill Manhattan, each year when her birthday rolled around. Usually the day was spent on the Jersey shore. This year the event fell at the start of the Christmas holiday weekend, opening up a score of other memories, so Cragen had opted to head to Fire Island. Closer to the city, but as deserted as the Jersey shoreline.
Cragen downed what was left of his soda water and angrily pulled his chair out. He tossed some singles on the table and headed towards the door.
She stared out at the Atlantic, as she jogged down the beach, breathing in the salt air like a balm. Looking for solace, as the memories of a love long lost pushed their way to her consciousness. The nice thing about the shore in December was the knowledge that few, if any other people would have the desire to visit the icy waters.
Normally a quick win would have been cause for celebration. When the trial came to its unexpected end, she exchanged polite conversation with Novak and Stabler, turning down their offer of a victory lunch at Pietro’s Opting instead to get as far away from Centre Street as quickly as possible, Donnelly made a bee line for the elevator, racing to catch the it before the doors closed.
She was about to break into a triumphant grin when she found herself close enough to her ex husband to notice that he was wearing the musky cologne he had worn when they first met. She heard the doors close behind her and fought not to show her discomfort.
“Liz, I didn’t expect - you’re courtroom is in the trial part-,” he said trying not to stammer.
“Doing some freelancing for some former colleagues,” she began, staring up at the face that time had only served to make more interesting. Even with his hair almost white, Jack McCoy was still an attractive man.
It wasn’t until the young woman beside him stepped forward to press the elevator button that Donnelly realized they were not alone.
“Liz, this is Alissa Goodwyn. Alissa, Judge Elizabeth Donnelly.”
Donnelly noticed the slightest smudge on the woman’s pale crimson lipstick, that matched the faint redness on McCoy’s lips. Donnelly shook the extended hand, willing herself to keep from looking back at McCoy.
“Ms. Goodwyn,” she said looking into the youthful face. “did Connie quit already?”
“Connie,” the other woman replied puzzled, looking up a McCoy.
“My assistant,” McCoy said. The displeasure in his tone that told Donnelly he’d received the unspoken message. “Alissa was opposing counsel in my divorce.”
Donnelly turned back to him as the elevators doors began to open, her face the mask it had been in the courtroom.
“You must have really gotten soaked the second time around, Jack.”
McCoy met her gaze, silently refusing to be baited.
“I am quite skilled at protecting my clients interests.” the young woman agreed.
McCoy cringed.
Donnelly ignored her, looking straight into McCoy’s eyes.
“Oh, that is apparent, Ms. Goodwyn. Obviously, the judge ruled Jack would be compensating opposing counsel. Too bad you have to settle for compensation in trade,” she said. In a swift motion, she removed his handkerchief from his pocket, roughly wiping his lips and thrusting it back into his hand. “You’re getting sloppy, Jack.”
Donnelly swore thinking about the juvenile scene.….why can’t this man seduce a woman that isn’t young enough to be our daughter, she thought angrily.
She slowed her pace, surprised to see the tall figure coming up the beach. He seemed somehow familiar. The last thing she needed was to run into someone from the city. Someone she’d have to make intelligent conversation with. She brought her sunglasses down, lowering her head as the figure did the same.
Cragen smiled at the attractive blond. He sensed he had seen her before…maybe in the diner, he wasn’t sure. His usual quick recall monetarily lost, distracted by the memories that assaulted him. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the slim figure, even covered up in the baggy grey sweats. Not a young woman but the face, what he could see of it, was classic. The narrow nose, the high cheek bones, the strong jaw line…
“Liz,” he sputtered not realizing he had said her name out loud.
She took off the sunglasses, a look of unexpected pleasure filling her face.
“Don,” replied, her eyes wide.
As they said the things people say when meeting without warning, each discreetly checking out the unaccustomed site of the other in causal wear. As they talked, they fell into a unconscious rhythm, walking side by side.
“Are you here with Becky?”
Donnelly shook her head. “Not this time. She’s staying with her father this weekend - he finally called her,” she said dryly. “Only him took a decade.”
“So the hard parts over?”
“Let’s hope so. They had dinner. When she asked if I’d be upset if she spent Christmas weekend with her Dad, she sounded so happy, what could I say? They’re so much a like, I just hope the peace holds. Especially when she gets wind of his latest conquest. Finally off for a holiday?”
Cragen smiled, “You know how the rotation works. First time I‘ve had the Christmas weekend off since I lost Marge.”
“Well, it looks like you brought the warm weather with you. Usually it‘s too cold to even think about walking the shore line.”
Cragen stopped, sitting down on the sand.
“Yeah, normally I‘m down just for the afternoon” he said softly. “ Most of it spent it the Island Mermaid or the car checking out the waves.”
Donnelly sat with him studying his face. She remembered how the picture of his late wife had graced the corner of his desk long after she had died so suddenly.
“Not an easy time of year for you, is it?”
“A lot of memories,” he said admitted. Automatically his arm went around her shoulders. “Getting cold?”
Donnelly nodded, her body tensing, then relaxing and moving closer as she felt the warmth radiating from Cragen.
“Anything you want to talk about, Don? I can be a pretty good listener. I owe you for all the times you smoothed things over with your detectives when I was SVU bureau chef.”
Cragen gave her a look. ”I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours - you wouldn’t be on Fire Island Christmas weekend if everything was right as rain with you, either.”
“Right as rain,” Donnelly smirked. “I haven’t heard that expression in years-”
“You’re stalling,” Cragen countered.” Remember you’re talking to a NYPD cop - a professional in the art of interrogation. I have ways of making you talk.”
Donnelly laughed.
“Really - I’ll bet my prosecutorial tactics against your interrogation tactics,” she teased.
“Normally, this is could only end in a draw,” he said rolling his eyes as he whispered “However, I do have an advantage.”
Donnelly laughed again, this time at the smug look of self assurance that was so uncharacteristic of Don Cragen.
“What might that be,” she whispered back leaning closer.
“Handcuffs,” he deadpanned.
Donnelly stared at him, jolted.
Cragen flushed.
“Liz, I was kidding. Are you alright?”
She shook her head, rising.
“Yeah, you were kidding - I knew that. Listen, it’s getting chilly - you up for a drink - say some hot chocolate? Deal is : You don’t get out the cuffs, I don’t get out the whip.”
It was Cragen turn to flush as he stood up.
“Deal.”
Cragen turned from the fireplace, taking the offered cup. He glanced around the rustic sitting room as he sat across from his hostess on the sofa. He sipped the steamy beverage appreciatively, realizing how cold he’d been.
“Alright counselor, it’s time to come clean. Did the trial for Casey and Elliot go badly?”
She shook her head, setting her cup on the coffee table.
“Charges were dismissed. Everything went fine. No, this is personal.” She drank some more of the hot chocolate, hoping that would suffice. Cragen continued to scowl, the scowl she had seen in interrogations so many times. She returned it with her legendary ice princess stare, but he didn’t even blink.
“Fine. Today would have been my twenty fifth wedding anniversary. That’s bad enough, but I have to run into my ex just as he’s beginning to make out with this perky little divorce lawyer in the elevator at the courthouse. Happy now?”
“How young?”
Donnelly tilted her head.
“Hummm….I’ll be fair - maybe 30, 32.”
“If you're being 'fair' that translates into 25, maybe 28. The man’s an idiot,” Cragen said bluntly.
Donnelly raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been divorced longer than we were married. He can do what ever he wants, with whom ever he wants. I‘m the one in the wrong this time.”
“He can, but why he’d want to is beyond me,” Cragen said quietly. “You must have been what - ten or fifteen years younger than Jack,when you two got married?”
“Nine.”
“A reasonable difference. Thirty is chasing lost youth. Pointless. He’s been down that road enough times, he should know better.”
“I think it’s in large part proximity, Don. Maybe some ego, as well. Enough about what motivates Jack McCoy. I’d still be married to him if I wanted to solve that riddle. Your turn.”
Cragen heavied heavy sigh.
“Marge’s birthday is today. Got my yearly case of the what if’s. Having it fall Christmas weekend just gives me more time to brood.”
“You loved her very much. Remembering that isn’t brooding-”
“I did, but I never realized how much until I lost her. We had all the normal problems, our share of fights…I never thought I’d miss her nagging me about all the overtime I put in or the drinking…”
“You haven’t started…are you seeing,“ Donnelly uncomfortably tried to ask.
“Am I involved? No. An occasional fix up or…” he hesitated, regarding Donnelly with uncertainty.
She nodded. “Don were adults.”
“Yeah, whatever that means. I’ve done the one night stand thing a few times. Not anything I’m anxious to repeat.”
Donnelly picked up the cups heading towards the kitchen.
“I hear that,” she replied over her shoulder.
Cragen eyes widened . He started to reply when the phone on the coffee table made him start.
“Should I get that?”
“Would you mind? It’s probably Becky.”
Cragen picked up the receiver speaking the customary greeting. Donnelly returned listening to the unexpected exchange.
“Jack?… No,you have the right number, she’s right here,” he said handing her the receiver.
“Jack? …Well, I did, but I ran into -” she paused briefly smiling at Cragen. “I ran into a friend when I got here…No, nothing that can’t wait - why is Becky alright?…Well, if she’s fine, what’s the problem? …Jack, you don’t have to explain. It‘s none of my business--…”she stared at the receiver, her tone softening. “Yes, I am aware of the date… I‘m sorry, too…look, I really can’t do this right now. Wait,” she said as Cragen moved to put on his jacket. “Don, don’t go -..no, I wasn’t talking to you. Look, Jack, I’ve got to go. Have a Merry Christmas with Becky, I’ll talk to you when I get back to town…No.. Jack, don’t ..Jack, I’m hanging up.”
She put the receiver down turning to Cragen.
“I’m sorry.”
“Liz, you have nothing to be sorry about. From the sounds of things, Jack wants to smooth things-”
“Jack is suffering from too much scotch and a case of Catholic guilt. If you’ve had enough of the Donnelly - McCoy soap opera I understand, but please don’t feel you have to go because of anything you heard - besides,” she added awkwardly. “I’d like you to stay.”
Cragen set down his jacket eyeing her with interest.
“Anything specific in mind, counselor?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “Of course, I wasn’t Mrs. John J. McCoy once for nothing. I have something in mind that requires skill and mastery - the question is - are you up for the challenge?”
It was just after midnight when Donnelly smacked the dictionary down in defeat.
“Alright Don - I want answers - how does a NYPD veteran come up with words like zenana? ”
“Meaning a Neanderthal cop can’t crack a book open once in a while,” he said with feigned indignation.
Donnelly eyes narrowed.“If you want cake, you’ll answer the question.”
“City college, when I got back from Vietnam, I took a class on Language History. Figured it might come in handy if I wanted to pursue my dream of becoming Scrabble master of the world,” he said following her into the tiny kitchen.
His eyes fell on the blue numbers glowing from the microwave. “Gee Liz you should have thrown me out hours ago - it’s after midnight. I better pass on the cake-”
Donnelly glanced up at him from the refrigerator.
“You’re staying at the Sea Breeze? That’s a good mile in the dark. It’s got to be freezing out there. Listen, I have another bedroom. Why don’t you just go back in the morning? Remember, there is cake involved.”
Cragen smirked at her. “An invitation to spend the night with a beautiful woman and cake? I must have died and gone to heaven.”
Cragen watched as the line dropped into the frigid water of the Atlantic. The solitary figure on the pier, his gaze settling on the bright yellow house in the distance.
Donnelly’s biting wit and sharp tongue were a distracting contrast to the memories of the soft spoken, forever youthful wife, frozen in time.
McCoy is an idiot, he thought. How long is he going to run after the unattainable dream of another Claire Kincaid?
Across the beach, Liz Donnelly settled on to the chase lounge on the porch of the beach house. The newest Linda Fairstein novel in hand. She had often thought the relationship of the lead prosecutor and the lead detective to be pretty close to the mark. She learned long ago, letting the professional become the personal had a disastrous price.
She smiled at the lone figure on the pier. She fought the temptation to grab the pole on the porch and join him, as she opened the book.
“Liz, wake up.”
She moved closer to him, not ready to face the workday.
“Five minutes,” she said pressing her body closer to him. “Just hold me five more minutes.”
She felt his arm around her, his hand warm on her arm.
“Five more minutes and we'll never get to work.”
She chuckled,” You sound just like Jack.”
She heard him laugh as well.The hand on her arm shaking her, his voice amused.
“Elizabeth, it is Jack. Open your eyes.”
Jared back into consciousness she sat up suddenly, instinctively clutching the throw.
“Not who you were expecting?”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said sharply, gazing up at the graying man dressed in blue jeans, dark green sweater peeking out from behind the leather jacket.
McCoy sat on the edge of the chase.
“With the unusually good weather I’m surprised there aren’t more die hards on the pier. It’s got be close to 60 degrees.”
“You’re here to talk about the weather? I thought you wanted to spend time with Rebecca.”
“Becky & I are spending time together - when the stores close. I’m meeting her in front of Macy’s at seven.”
“That explains why you’re not with our daughter - not why you’re on the island.”
McCoy glanced causally around.
“I didn’t like the way we left things. Your friend still around?”
Donnelly stood up shaking her head.
“You’re here for an apology? Jack, I was out of line. Happy now? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen you with another woman. I was wrong-”
McCoy smiled knowingly. “That doesn’t answer my question -why are you being so evasive?”
“Maybe because it’s none of your business,” she said walking towards the door.
McCoy followed her to the kitchen, glancing at the breakfast dishes on the counter. Donnelly frowned, following his stare.
“Stop it Jack. We both know why you’re here. You’re feeling sentimental - so was I when I ran into you yesterday,” she said as she began putting the dirty items in the dishwasher. “Don’t mistake sentiment for something more.”
“I’m here because it was Don Cragen that answered the phone last night - wasn’t it? He’s a good man - but he’s an alcoholic, Liz.”
“Oh for Gods sake! What are you, my father now? We played scrabble and drank cocoa. Satisfied?”
“Where is he now? Over at the Island Mermaid?’
“This coming from a guy who thinks Dewar’s is an office supply item,” she asked snidely. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“ Maybe, but I never beat a man on the job.”
Donnelly swung around, slamming the dishwasher shut.
“You’re out line - besides, that was years ago.”
"Are you framiliar with the term: Dry Drunk?"
"Are you framiliar with the term: Back Off?"
“I just don’t want you to jump into something that’s going to cause you heart ache later,” he said gently, as he turned put his arms around her. “Especially, because of something I did that you misunderstood.”
Donnelly looked up at him stunned.
“Your ego has no limits, does it Jack? You have ten seconds to get your hands off me and get the hell out,“ she said, her voice like ice water. “Maybe Claire would have put up with this, but I’m old enough to know better.”
McCoy’s face paled and Donnelly felt a mixture of annoyance and shame. She knew it was hitting below the belt to mention St. Claire of Hogan Place.
Flavor: L&O/ L&O SVU Donnelly, Cragen, McCoy
Length: Like 3000 words (well you guys DID say for the long winded).
Time: The last day Liz Donnelly acts as Elliot and Casey's defense attorney (God, I just can't remember the episode name).
He stared at the Perrier. As the coolness of the fizzing liquid slid down his throat, he imagined the exquisite taste of bliss, sorrowfully lost. Fighting the demon had become a daily ritual. Second nature.As had the carefully orchestrated charade. The mask that masterfully hid the hollow abyss at the core, of a man subordinates looked to as an anchor.
But not today.
Today, she would have been fifty.
“…Marge didn’t make it.”
The words that instantaneously changed him from blissfully hen pecked husband to agonizingly empty widower.
Don Cragen sighed as he checked his watch, then scanned the Island Mermaid, a bar on the coast line of Fire Island. He had placed his order for a patty melt with extra onions, almost thirty minutes ago. Where'd they go for the onions, he wondered irritably, the fields of El Salvador? The shore was Cragen’s refuge. Marge had hated the beach. The beach was were he could escape from the memories that seemed to fill Manhattan, each year when her birthday rolled around. Usually the day was spent on the Jersey shore. This year the event fell at the start of the Christmas holiday weekend, opening up a score of other memories, so Cragen had opted to head to Fire Island. Closer to the city, but as deserted as the Jersey shoreline.
Cragen downed what was left of his soda water and angrily pulled his chair out. He tossed some singles on the table and headed towards the door.
She stared out at the Atlantic, as she jogged down the beach, breathing in the salt air like a balm. Looking for solace, as the memories of a love long lost pushed their way to her consciousness. The nice thing about the shore in December was the knowledge that few, if any other people would have the desire to visit the icy waters.
Normally a quick win would have been cause for celebration. When the trial came to its unexpected end, she exchanged polite conversation with Novak and Stabler, turning down their offer of a victory lunch at Pietro’s Opting instead to get as far away from Centre Street as quickly as possible, Donnelly made a bee line for the elevator, racing to catch the it before the doors closed.
She was about to break into a triumphant grin when she found herself close enough to her ex husband to notice that he was wearing the musky cologne he had worn when they first met. She heard the doors close behind her and fought not to show her discomfort.
“Liz, I didn’t expect - you’re courtroom is in the trial part-,” he said trying not to stammer.
“Doing some freelancing for some former colleagues,” she began, staring up at the face that time had only served to make more interesting. Even with his hair almost white, Jack McCoy was still an attractive man.
It wasn’t until the young woman beside him stepped forward to press the elevator button that Donnelly realized they were not alone.
“Liz, this is Alissa Goodwyn. Alissa, Judge Elizabeth Donnelly.”
Donnelly noticed the slightest smudge on the woman’s pale crimson lipstick, that matched the faint redness on McCoy’s lips. Donnelly shook the extended hand, willing herself to keep from looking back at McCoy.
“Ms. Goodwyn,” she said looking into the youthful face. “did Connie quit already?”
“Connie,” the other woman replied puzzled, looking up a McCoy.
“My assistant,” McCoy said. The displeasure in his tone that told Donnelly he’d received the unspoken message. “Alissa was opposing counsel in my divorce.”
Donnelly turned back to him as the elevators doors began to open, her face the mask it had been in the courtroom.
“You must have really gotten soaked the second time around, Jack.”
McCoy met her gaze, silently refusing to be baited.
“I am quite skilled at protecting my clients interests.” the young woman agreed.
McCoy cringed.
Donnelly ignored her, looking straight into McCoy’s eyes.
“Oh, that is apparent, Ms. Goodwyn. Obviously, the judge ruled Jack would be compensating opposing counsel. Too bad you have to settle for compensation in trade,” she said. In a swift motion, she removed his handkerchief from his pocket, roughly wiping his lips and thrusting it back into his hand. “You’re getting sloppy, Jack.”
Donnelly swore thinking about the juvenile scene.….why can’t this man seduce a woman that isn’t young enough to be our daughter, she thought angrily.
She slowed her pace, surprised to see the tall figure coming up the beach. He seemed somehow familiar. The last thing she needed was to run into someone from the city. Someone she’d have to make intelligent conversation with. She brought her sunglasses down, lowering her head as the figure did the same.
Cragen smiled at the attractive blond. He sensed he had seen her before…maybe in the diner, he wasn’t sure. His usual quick recall monetarily lost, distracted by the memories that assaulted him. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the slim figure, even covered up in the baggy grey sweats. Not a young woman but the face, what he could see of it, was classic. The narrow nose, the high cheek bones, the strong jaw line…
“Liz,” he sputtered not realizing he had said her name out loud.
She took off the sunglasses, a look of unexpected pleasure filling her face.
“Don,” replied, her eyes wide.
As they said the things people say when meeting without warning, each discreetly checking out the unaccustomed site of the other in causal wear. As they talked, they fell into a unconscious rhythm, walking side by side.
“Are you here with Becky?”
Donnelly shook her head. “Not this time. She’s staying with her father this weekend - he finally called her,” she said dryly. “Only him took a decade.”
“So the hard parts over?”
“Let’s hope so. They had dinner. When she asked if I’d be upset if she spent Christmas weekend with her Dad, she sounded so happy, what could I say? They’re so much a like, I just hope the peace holds. Especially when she gets wind of his latest conquest. Finally off for a holiday?”
Cragen smiled, “You know how the rotation works. First time I‘ve had the Christmas weekend off since I lost Marge.”
“Well, it looks like you brought the warm weather with you. Usually it‘s too cold to even think about walking the shore line.”
Cragen stopped, sitting down on the sand.
“Yeah, normally I‘m down just for the afternoon” he said softly. “ Most of it spent it the Island Mermaid or the car checking out the waves.”
Donnelly sat with him studying his face. She remembered how the picture of his late wife had graced the corner of his desk long after she had died so suddenly.
“Not an easy time of year for you, is it?”
“A lot of memories,” he said admitted. Automatically his arm went around her shoulders. “Getting cold?”
Donnelly nodded, her body tensing, then relaxing and moving closer as she felt the warmth radiating from Cragen.
“Anything you want to talk about, Don? I can be a pretty good listener. I owe you for all the times you smoothed things over with your detectives when I was SVU bureau chef.”
Cragen gave her a look. ”I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours - you wouldn’t be on Fire Island Christmas weekend if everything was right as rain with you, either.”
“Right as rain,” Donnelly smirked. “I haven’t heard that expression in years-”
“You’re stalling,” Cragen countered.” Remember you’re talking to a NYPD cop - a professional in the art of interrogation. I have ways of making you talk.”
Donnelly laughed.
“Really - I’ll bet my prosecutorial tactics against your interrogation tactics,” she teased.
“Normally, this is could only end in a draw,” he said rolling his eyes as he whispered “However, I do have an advantage.”
Donnelly laughed again, this time at the smug look of self assurance that was so uncharacteristic of Don Cragen.
“What might that be,” she whispered back leaning closer.
“Handcuffs,” he deadpanned.
Donnelly stared at him, jolted.
Cragen flushed.
“Liz, I was kidding. Are you alright?”
She shook her head, rising.
“Yeah, you were kidding - I knew that. Listen, it’s getting chilly - you up for a drink - say some hot chocolate? Deal is : You don’t get out the cuffs, I don’t get out the whip.”
It was Cragen turn to flush as he stood up.
“Deal.”
Cragen turned from the fireplace, taking the offered cup. He glanced around the rustic sitting room as he sat across from his hostess on the sofa. He sipped the steamy beverage appreciatively, realizing how cold he’d been.
“Alright counselor, it’s time to come clean. Did the trial for Casey and Elliot go badly?”
She shook her head, setting her cup on the coffee table.
“Charges were dismissed. Everything went fine. No, this is personal.” She drank some more of the hot chocolate, hoping that would suffice. Cragen continued to scowl, the scowl she had seen in interrogations so many times. She returned it with her legendary ice princess stare, but he didn’t even blink.
“Fine. Today would have been my twenty fifth wedding anniversary. That’s bad enough, but I have to run into my ex just as he’s beginning to make out with this perky little divorce lawyer in the elevator at the courthouse. Happy now?”
“How young?”
Donnelly tilted her head.
“Hummm….I’ll be fair - maybe 30, 32.”
“If you're being 'fair' that translates into 25, maybe 28. The man’s an idiot,” Cragen said bluntly.
Donnelly raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been divorced longer than we were married. He can do what ever he wants, with whom ever he wants. I‘m the one in the wrong this time.”
“He can, but why he’d want to is beyond me,” Cragen said quietly. “You must have been what - ten or fifteen years younger than Jack,when you two got married?”
“Nine.”
“A reasonable difference. Thirty is chasing lost youth. Pointless. He’s been down that road enough times, he should know better.”
“I think it’s in large part proximity, Don. Maybe some ego, as well. Enough about what motivates Jack McCoy. I’d still be married to him if I wanted to solve that riddle. Your turn.”
Cragen heavied heavy sigh.
“Marge’s birthday is today. Got my yearly case of the what if’s. Having it fall Christmas weekend just gives me more time to brood.”
“You loved her very much. Remembering that isn’t brooding-”
“I did, but I never realized how much until I lost her. We had all the normal problems, our share of fights…I never thought I’d miss her nagging me about all the overtime I put in or the drinking…”
“You haven’t started…are you seeing,“ Donnelly uncomfortably tried to ask.
“Am I involved? No. An occasional fix up or…” he hesitated, regarding Donnelly with uncertainty.
She nodded. “Don were adults.”
“Yeah, whatever that means. I’ve done the one night stand thing a few times. Not anything I’m anxious to repeat.”
Donnelly picked up the cups heading towards the kitchen.
“I hear that,” she replied over her shoulder.
Cragen eyes widened . He started to reply when the phone on the coffee table made him start.
“Should I get that?”
“Would you mind? It’s probably Becky.”
Cragen picked up the receiver speaking the customary greeting. Donnelly returned listening to the unexpected exchange.
“Jack?… No,you have the right number, she’s right here,” he said handing her the receiver.
“Jack? …Well, I did, but I ran into -” she paused briefly smiling at Cragen. “I ran into a friend when I got here…No, nothing that can’t wait - why is Becky alright?…Well, if she’s fine, what’s the problem? …Jack, you don’t have to explain. It‘s none of my business--…”she stared at the receiver, her tone softening. “Yes, I am aware of the date… I‘m sorry, too…look, I really can’t do this right now. Wait,” she said as Cragen moved to put on his jacket. “Don, don’t go -..no, I wasn’t talking to you. Look, Jack, I’ve got to go. Have a Merry Christmas with Becky, I’ll talk to you when I get back to town…No.. Jack, don’t ..Jack, I’m hanging up.”
She put the receiver down turning to Cragen.
“I’m sorry.”
“Liz, you have nothing to be sorry about. From the sounds of things, Jack wants to smooth things-”
“Jack is suffering from too much scotch and a case of Catholic guilt. If you’ve had enough of the Donnelly - McCoy soap opera I understand, but please don’t feel you have to go because of anything you heard - besides,” she added awkwardly. “I’d like you to stay.”
Cragen set down his jacket eyeing her with interest.
“Anything specific in mind, counselor?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “Of course, I wasn’t Mrs. John J. McCoy once for nothing. I have something in mind that requires skill and mastery - the question is - are you up for the challenge?”
It was just after midnight when Donnelly smacked the dictionary down in defeat.
“Alright Don - I want answers - how does a NYPD veteran come up with words like zenana? ”
“Meaning a Neanderthal cop can’t crack a book open once in a while,” he said with feigned indignation.
Donnelly eyes narrowed.“If you want cake, you’ll answer the question.”
“City college, when I got back from Vietnam, I took a class on Language History. Figured it might come in handy if I wanted to pursue my dream of becoming Scrabble master of the world,” he said following her into the tiny kitchen.
His eyes fell on the blue numbers glowing from the microwave. “Gee Liz you should have thrown me out hours ago - it’s after midnight. I better pass on the cake-”
Donnelly glanced up at him from the refrigerator.
“You’re staying at the Sea Breeze? That’s a good mile in the dark. It’s got to be freezing out there. Listen, I have another bedroom. Why don’t you just go back in the morning? Remember, there is cake involved.”
Cragen smirked at her. “An invitation to spend the night with a beautiful woman and cake? I must have died and gone to heaven.”
Cragen watched as the line dropped into the frigid water of the Atlantic. The solitary figure on the pier, his gaze settling on the bright yellow house in the distance.
Donnelly’s biting wit and sharp tongue were a distracting contrast to the memories of the soft spoken, forever youthful wife, frozen in time.
McCoy is an idiot, he thought. How long is he going to run after the unattainable dream of another Claire Kincaid?
Across the beach, Liz Donnelly settled on to the chase lounge on the porch of the beach house. The newest Linda Fairstein novel in hand. She had often thought the relationship of the lead prosecutor and the lead detective to be pretty close to the mark. She learned long ago, letting the professional become the personal had a disastrous price.
She smiled at the lone figure on the pier. She fought the temptation to grab the pole on the porch and join him, as she opened the book.
“Liz, wake up.”
She moved closer to him, not ready to face the workday.
“Five minutes,” she said pressing her body closer to him. “Just hold me five more minutes.”
She felt his arm around her, his hand warm on her arm.
“Five more minutes and we'll never get to work.”
She chuckled,” You sound just like Jack.”
She heard him laugh as well.The hand on her arm shaking her, his voice amused.
“Elizabeth, it is Jack. Open your eyes.”
Jared back into consciousness she sat up suddenly, instinctively clutching the throw.
“Not who you were expecting?”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said sharply, gazing up at the graying man dressed in blue jeans, dark green sweater peeking out from behind the leather jacket.
McCoy sat on the edge of the chase.
“With the unusually good weather I’m surprised there aren’t more die hards on the pier. It’s got be close to 60 degrees.”
“You’re here to talk about the weather? I thought you wanted to spend time with Rebecca.”
“Becky & I are spending time together - when the stores close. I’m meeting her in front of Macy’s at seven.”
“That explains why you’re not with our daughter - not why you’re on the island.”
McCoy glanced causally around.
“I didn’t like the way we left things. Your friend still around?”
Donnelly stood up shaking her head.
“You’re here for an apology? Jack, I was out of line. Happy now? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen you with another woman. I was wrong-”
McCoy smiled knowingly. “That doesn’t answer my question -why are you being so evasive?”
“Maybe because it’s none of your business,” she said walking towards the door.
McCoy followed her to the kitchen, glancing at the breakfast dishes on the counter. Donnelly frowned, following his stare.
“Stop it Jack. We both know why you’re here. You’re feeling sentimental - so was I when I ran into you yesterday,” she said as she began putting the dirty items in the dishwasher. “Don’t mistake sentiment for something more.”
“I’m here because it was Don Cragen that answered the phone last night - wasn’t it? He’s a good man - but he’s an alcoholic, Liz.”
“Oh for Gods sake! What are you, my father now? We played scrabble and drank cocoa. Satisfied?”
“Where is he now? Over at the Island Mermaid?’
“This coming from a guy who thinks Dewar’s is an office supply item,” she asked snidely. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“ Maybe, but I never beat a man on the job.”
Donnelly swung around, slamming the dishwasher shut.
“You’re out line - besides, that was years ago.”
"Are you framiliar with the term: Dry Drunk?"
"Are you framiliar with the term: Back Off?"
“I just don’t want you to jump into something that’s going to cause you heart ache later,” he said gently, as he turned put his arms around her. “Especially, because of something I did that you misunderstood.”
Donnelly looked up at him stunned.
“Your ego has no limits, does it Jack? You have ten seconds to get your hands off me and get the hell out,“ she said, her voice like ice water. “Maybe Claire would have put up with this, but I’m old enough to know better.”
McCoy’s face paled and Donnelly felt a mixture of annoyance and shame. She knew it was hitting below the belt to mention St. Claire of Hogan Place.