It takes a little getting used to—being married, but also comes the task of learning my new name: Leia Stone. Detective Leia Stone. My mother sees this as an act of defiance and perhaps it is, although I do believe that I should decide on my own surname eventually. Other than work, I don't see my mother or Carisi at all, and it is almost as if a giant weight has been lifted from my shoulders, although I could do without the blackness and bleakness between the three of us. They give me glances during work hours, and I feel as if I know what they're doing directly—they want me to apologize to them. It is a bitter pill to swallow, but the bitterest of all is the rather unexpected knock on the door of the house, one afternoon when I'm off from work and Kassandra's at the hospital.

"Felicity!" I say, the momentary shock of seeing my little sister not completely unsettling as I move back to let her inside. "This is... Well, certainly a surprise. I thought you were on your concert tour in Italy."

"Cut short—the woman running it had her baby early. She had to make the necessary arrangements at home, of course," Felicity said with a smile. She looks around my house approvingly—as well she should, for other than music, she'd also gotten a degree in interior design.

"I see," I reply, guiding her into the kitchen. "Well, I just so happen to have some of that rosé in the pantry that you like—you and Kassandra have such similar wine tastes, it's hard to remember that you and I are the siblings and she's...well, my wife," I say, chuckling.

Felicity grins at me. "Normally, I'd accept a glass in a heartbeat but..." She sighs a little. "You remember Rick, right?"

I purse my lips. "Rick Yang, your boyfriend, who you started dating at eighteen, but broke up with in your junior year of college after he moved to Thailand for that business venture?" I ask her.

Felicity sighs. "Yes, that's the one."

"Of course I remember. What about him?" I ask her.

My sister lifts up her hand, a rather large diamond sparkling upon it. "Rick got back from Thailand almost a year ago, and he met me in Paris, three stops before Italy," she explains patiently. "We went out a few times, and then he followed the tour to Italy. The business venture paid off."

"What was it again?" I ask.

"Rick's an app developer," she replies patiently. "He does all the coding work. His brother, Felix, does the marketing, and they needed someone to help with the design work, so I stepped up. We're modifying social media—we successfully created SketchWrite—have you heard of it?"

Had I heard of it? It was the latest app for writing, drawing, and posting your general thoughts and feelings. Alexandrine was absolutely obsessed with it, although I was thankful for the age restricted mode. "Of course I have," I reply with a grin. "Kassandra uses it to interact with her younger patients. But you're engaged?" I ask.

"We got married just before we left Italy," Felicity replies. "We actually bought a house not too far from here, and Rick's settling with Felix for our property building in Manhattan."

"But if you're not drinking the rosé, then that means—" Immediately, I feel myself smiling at my little sister. "Felicity... Are you pregnant?"

"Three months already," she replies, placing a hand on her barely swollen middle with pride in her face. "Doctor says it's twins. We're so excited."

I nod at her, instead pouring her some iced water with lemon. "Soothes the stomach," I explained, taking the same for myself. "How are you adjusting to being back home, and married life, and your upcoming motherhood?"

"Well, thank you," she replies, sipping at her water before placing it back down—on a coaster, thankfully—atop the kitchen bar. "Rick's just been throwing himself completely into work so as we have an appropriate nest egg in place by the time the babies arrive."

"Surely, I'm not your first stop on the welcome-home tour, as it were," I say, and take ahold of the straw from inside my glass of water and swirling it around, the ice clacking against the sides of the glass. "I mean... Have you seen Grandma Maggie yet?"

"We Skyped when I was in Italy—right before I left," she replies. "Suffice it to say, my jaw hit the floor when I heard how it all came about."

"She's not the only person you talked to, is she?"

Felicity brings up her glass to her lips, taking hold of the straw between them and sucking ever so slightly, before swallowing. "Stop beating around the bush, Leia," she tells me diplomatically. "If you want to know whether or not I've been in contact with Mom, all you have to do is ask."

"Fine," I say, fighting to keep the contempt from my tone at the thought of Felicity speaking to our mother at all. "Have you spoken to Mom?"

She nods. "I have."

"And I suppose she's already gone off about me not talking to her outside of work, then?" I ask her.

Felicity nods at my statement. "She has, yes."

"Did she tell you everything?"

"She said that you would tell me," Felicity says levelly.

I purse my lips, searching her face before allowing myself to talk about it. "I told you when you were on tour that I found out that Dad... That he wasn't..."

"I remember," Felicity says, knowing that that particular topic of discussion was difficult for me to discuss. "Don't worry—I definitely not about to forget something like that Leia."

I nod. "Good," I reply, "because here's the thing... I went to go see Olivia a bit ago and it turns out, she's known who my biological father is this whole time. Yeah," I say to Felicity's shocked expression.

"And it's definitely, positively, not Dad?" she affirms.

I shake my head. "Not Dad." I take another drink of the water with lemon, cursing myself for wanting a shot of something. "Turns out, my biological father is Sonny —or Carisi, as you mainly know him."

"Wait," Felicity says, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair as her eyes rove over my face to attempt to catch my expression, "this means that you and Fin are full siblings..."

I nod. "You're right."

Felicity traces the condensation on the outside of her glass, attempting to distract herself from this latest bombshell known as family drama. "So, what does this mean?" she whispers.

I square my shoulders then, attempting to put a brave face on it. "It means I hate Mom's guts," I reply. "I can't help it," I tell her shocked expression. "She lied to me—to all of us—for years!"

"She may have had her reasons..."

"Such as?" I want to know.

"Well, maybe she originally thought you were too young but then managed to get swamped by work or a heavy caseload or something—"

"Too young?" I scoff, feeling like someone in an evening drama who gets nominated for an Emmy for Best Actress in a Leading Role but inexplicably gets shown up by some teenager. "I'm thirty-years-old, Felicity!"

Felicity immediately slumps, never enjoying yelling or confrontation of any kind whatsoever. "Leia, please..."

"What?" I demand, frustrated.

She bites at her lip, clearly uneasy. "I don't know... It's just that it feels like that you want me to somehow know all of Mom's thoughts and feelings..."

"I don't want that, Felicity," I say, stepping away from the kitchen bar and allowing myself to pace. "I just want answers..."

Felicity remains rather stoic. "I'm not a mind-reader, Leia..."

"Nobody's asking you to be!" I cry out, exasperated, turning back to face her. "I'm just asking you to be my sister and support me!"

"Support you?!" she demands. "Against Mom?!"

"Felicity, come on!" I cry out. "We're not little kids anymore!"

"But she's still our mom!"

"What are you saying?" I ask.

Felicity gets to her feet then, making a grab for her purse and shaking her head at me. "Mom said you would be unreasonable," she says.

I blink. "Mom said what?"

"She said you'd be unreasonable, and that I shouldn't even come over to see you at all," she states, her voice flat as she walks over to the door. "You know," she says, turning back to face me, "all I wanted was a sisterly moment. I come in here and show off my ring and tell you that I'm going to be a mother, and you make it all about you!"

"Believe it or not, Felicity, sometimes it can't always be about you either!" I shout back, infuriated that she couldn't be on my side.

My little sister nods then, the rage falling out of her as quickly as it had entered. "I guess all I can say here is that I'm sorry you feel that way," she replies, turning around and opening the door before slamming it behind her.

I watch her from where I stand, walking down the outside path and down the stairs before walking to her car, parked on the street. I watch as Felicity gets into her car, before turning the key in the ignition, pulling out of the space, and down the street and out of sight. The sound of the echo of the door slamming still rings in my ears, and all I want to do is scream because nobody can possibly ever willingly see my side to things.

. . .

MAGGIE'S POV

I knew what it was like to lose someone—as did Edythe—and yet my pain would always be fresh. Ever since the roles had been reversed and Hunter had lost me, I felt as if we were stronger than ever. We'd both known the pain of losing the person we loved most—other than our kids—and it was not something we'd ever wish on anyone. It made my heart burst with happiness when Hunter began the process for a quickie divorce from Ophelia—plus giving her a few grand to tide her over until the baby arrived—and began the process of making me his wife all over again. Hunter had never disposed of his wedding ring, which warmed my heart with joy, and it made me all the happier for returning home.

But once you lose someone, you always lost a piece of them, forever...

"What's really bothering you?" she asks, and I know that, by now, Olivia is perfectly capable of seeing right through me.

"Hunter and I were trying to have another baby," I confess to her. "We'd talked about it and decided after this mission, we were going to give it a last hurrah kind of try. If it didn't work, we decided to adopt another child—a boy. We wanted to adopt a boy, around elementary or middle-school aged..."

"That's great, Maggie. You can still do that."

"Liv, it doesn't feel right," I reply. "Besides, if Hunter lives, he might need round-the-clock care..."

"Are you up for that?" she wants to know.

I turn and look at her. "Liv, I'm in love with him—no matter if he can walk or not, talk or not. He just needs to live and breathe on his own, that's all I could want, and unless he's in constant pain, I want him to be around me every minute of every day that he can stand me."

She smiles. "That love is really deep, then, huh?"

I nod. "Of course, it must be, right?"

A female nurse enters the room then, and gives me a look. "Maggie Grayson?" she asks me.

I get to my feet, stumbling again. "Yes?"

She nods at Olivia. "Detective Benson here said that you were a bit woozy. I think I should check your vitals."

"No, really, I'm fine..."

She steps forward, putting a black hand upon my arm. "I insist." She gives me a look that's so firm that I feel compelled to listen to her. She takes me out of there and into another room, Olivia following me, and I hop up onto an exam table. "No, honey," the nurse says, producing a cup. "I'll need you to give me sample in this here cup."

I flush scarlet—a pregnancy test?! Really?! I glare at Olivia, and she laughs, knowing full well that I'm madder at the situation than I am at her. I hop off the exam table and go into the en suite bathroom, quickly depositing the sample into the cup and washing my hands before getting out of there, handing it over to the nurse before Olivia and I are permitted to return to the waiting room. I draw my knees upwards towards my chest, wondering what the results could be. If I am pregnant... I cross my fingers as a child would, bartering now, for my possible baby and for Hunter to be all right...

I find myself drawn to my hands, rubbing my temples for what seems like hours on end. I don't even hear the clock ticking, and I barely register the fact that it is long after midnight. Finally, the doors open then, around three in the morning, and I look up to see Dr. Behr stepping forward. Olivia and I get to our feet, and I feel dread as soon as he and I make direct eye contact. He is silent for what seems like a full minute, and it was as if you could hear a pin drop.

"Maggie..." He sighs. "I'm so sorry. He hemorrhaged on the operating table so severely that we were unable to stop the bleeding. The bullet wasn't even all the way removed, and we had to stop that process in a futile attempt to stop the severe case of bleeding. We couldn't stop it in time; your husband suffered a massive heart attack and died on the operating table ten minutes ago. We attempted to bring him back, but he was already gone. Your husband is dead."

I am barely aware of it until it happens. I am falling to my knees, my anguished cry echoing off the walls of the waiting room. I find myself screaming so hard and so fast that I cannot stop. I am blinded by the sudden rush of tears, and I find I cannot stop the pounding in my ears. Your husband is dead; your husband is dead; your husband is dead. That sentence thumped in my brain repeatedly, and I found I could not stop it. When I could see again, I saw that Dr. Behr had gone, and I felt the sensation of Olivia pulling me into her arms for what must have been the millionth time that day happened. When I was calm enough, I told her that I wanted to go home and to take a shower; she agreed to take me.

"Do you want to see Hunter before you go?" she asked.

I shake my head. "No."

Sometimes, I think back to that day, as I had done soon thereafter, when I thought I'd lost Hunter for good. I think back to the notion that I'd shot down the prospect of bidding my husband what I thought was to be a final goodbye. Back then, I thought, perhaps, if I hadn't been so hasty, then I would have seen that it was Mason who had given his life for Hunter, and I could have spent some time and some resources looking for him. However, I was as stubborn then as I was now, and both my daughter and granddaughter had inherited it.

I think now, looking back, I believed that my refusal to see him was not purely stubbornness at all. It was the notion that I loved Hunter, my beloved, my husband, my lover, so much, that a small part of me knew that I wouldn't be able to handle it, seeing him like that. I didn't want to believe that he was truly gone, and I suppose I figured that, if I didn't see him, he would eventually end up walking through the door at the end of the night.

. . .

EDYTHE'S POV

Sonny came into my room shortly thereafter, and confessed that he and Amanda were having problems with honesty in their marriage. I apologized, and stated that Lincoln and I had found our separation beneficial, although it would not be so for every couple. As I made my way along the road towards home that night, I remembered how it had felt when Sonny had kissed me—different, not as pleasurable as when Lincoln had kissed me, sure—but the alcohol was talking, and the alcohol in me wanted him as much as he did me. After we woke up, tangled in between the sheets, we showered separately and agreed never to discuss it with anyone again—not even Amanda knew.

Even now, I could still feel his hands on me, as they had been for that second time in Dallas, Texas. I remembered our first time together, but only after years of therapy, and after I was finally able to admit that such a thing had happened to myself way back when. I hadn't wanted to admit it; partially because Sonny had been very married at that point, but also because I'd felt weak...

After my first failed engagement to Lincoln, all I could think about was focusing on work and getting out of uniform and into a suit. Sonny agreed to put in a good word for me, and we ended up getting dinner a few times so as he could give me a few pointers on the subject. Amanda didn't suspect a thing—after all, she'd known me since I was a child, and, originally, had nothing to suspect. Of course, initially, I'd felt nothing romantic whatsoever for Sonny.

It was about six, seven, or eight months after the engagement had ended, and Sonny and I were discussing strategy for a particular case—a fake one, mind you, for I was not at liberty to know confidential information—when he suddenly loosened his tie. We were at one of those upscale bars named after a classy fruit—I think it was called Blackberry Lounge—and it was getting late. It was a Friday, and we both had the weekend off, and initially it didn't matter to me, although when eleven o'clock approached, I decided that enough was enough.

"Won't Amanda be expecting you home?" I asked, treading cautiously, and not wanting him to think I was ungrateful for the pointers.

Sonny shook his head. "Nah—she took the kids to Disney World for the whole weekend, so I'm as free as a bird in a tree."

I nod, turning to look at my half-empty martini glass. "Ah-ha," I say, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing.

"You okay?"

I shrug a little then, my shoulders hurting from the heard week. "It's nothing—just tired," I reply, turning back to look at him. "And I really wouldn't want Amanda made at you for staying out late with me..."

"Hey, we're old friends of your mother's," Sonny puts in, a serious look on his face. "It's cool, don't worry."

I nod. "Sure," I reply, sipping my drink before crossing my legs in a different direction—something not lost on Sonny.

"I've enjoyed our time together..."

"Have you?" I ask, lowering my glass. "That's really nice."

"No... I mean I've really enjoyed my time with you these past few weeks, Edythe, more than I should've," he says, his eyes troubled.

Suddenly becoming aware of his meaning, I feel my face immediately heat as I lower my eyes, surveying the attractive brown color of the bar that I am resting my arm upon. "You shouldn't say that, Sonny..."

"But I am," he says, reaching out and placing his hand on mine.

I immediately feel goosebumps upon my flesh, and my hair stands on end; I want nothing more than to give in to his touch. "No," I say, summoning all my strength to pull my hand away from his and looking him in the eye. "You're married, Sonny—married. And to a friend of my mother's... You're a friend of my mother's," I say, desperation filling my voice. "Do you realize what she would say if she heard about this, let alone caught us?"

"We're not anywhere near work..."

"Doesn't matter," I say, my eyes never leaving his. "You're married, Sonny. You belong to someone else..."

"What if I didn't want to?" he asks.

I shake my head at him. "Wouldn't make any difference."

"Would this?" he asks, closing the distance between us and kissing me.

Immediately, I pull away from him, his whiskey and my martini co-mingling just as our lips—and other things—had. "You shouldn't have done that," I say to him, and I find that I can't bear to look at him.

"You're right," he says, and I curse myself as I raise my eyes to his. "I shouldn't have done that... But I wanted to..."

"And I wanted you to," I find myself saying, and I find that I am shaking. I couldn't believe that I was acting so salacious with a man—a married man—and a police officer, in a hotel.

"You did?" Sonny asks, perking up. "You did want me to?"

I nod at him, my eyes filling with tears. "Yes," I reply, digging into my purse and throwing some money down on the counter. "But we shouldn't have..." I say, my voice quavering as I get to my feet and run out of the bar. I don't get very far until I feel a hand on my arm and I turn around then, seeing Sonny standing there. "I don't know what to..." I whisper.

He looks shocked. "You mean you never...?"

"Had a relationship with a married man? I have," I say. "Had sex? I have. Made love? I have. But..."

"But what?" he asks.

"I've never wanted something so badly, that I knew I wasn't supposed to have," I say quietly. "With Baxter—the other married man—I wanted to prove something to myself, but now..."

"What?" Sonny whispers, stepping closer to me. "What now?"

I shut my eyes, the feeling of his hot breath on my skin totally and completely intoxicating. I let out a frustrated groan and my eyes snap open then, before I walk directly towards the front desk. Sounding like a bitch in heat, I whip out my credit card and Driver's License, and say to the concierge, "What's the nicest room you have available, please?"

We are given a penthouse suite on the top floor, but I refuse to touch him again until we get upstairs. The elevator ride up is torture, and I become convinced that the room key won't work due to my sweating hands. Finally, the elevator dings and I manage to stumble outside of it, Sonny just behind me, and I manage to stick the key card into the proper door. It comes open automatically, and I step inside like a drunkard, I am shaking so much.

"Doubly lock the door," I order Sonny as I step into the room. I throw off the black cocktail dress I'd worn—probably not the best idea in retrospect—and stand there in my matching bra and panty set as Sonny locks the door behind me. I turn and look at him, taking my long hair down from its bun, and Sonny comes up behind me, moving it gently to the side and allows his lips to brush my neck. I find I am immediately weakened by his touch...

"Alligata est legi, in amore omnium," he says, tracing the words. "What does that mean, I wonder?"

"'Bound by law, loved by all'," I reply without a moment's hesitation. I lean back into him, shutting my eyes as he continues kissing my exposed flesh. I don't protest as he unhooks my bra, nor do I smack his hands away when he sticks his fingers into the waistband of my panties. "This is so wrong," I whisper as his hands rove along my midsection, sending tremors down my spine.

"But so right," he breathes against my skin, and I feel my eyes shut automatically in a wave of pleasure...

"Did you hear me, Edythe?"

I turn immediately to the person standing before me, the one who will forever haunt my dreams. "What?" I ask, my face flushed like a teenager caught in the act, which wasn't altogether false. "I'm sorry, Sonny. What is it?"

"Blake Tomlinson's trial has been set," Sonny replies patiently. "It should be taken care of soon."

"The verdict?" I ask, stupidly.

"The jury selection," Sonny says, looking over my face. "What's the matter?" he wants to know. "Where are you?"

"Far and away," I reply, shaking my head. "Tell the DA that we need a good selection this time—maybe some drag queens themselves..."

"I'll ask," Sonny puts in, surveying my face one more time. "Wow..."

"What?" I ask, shuffling papers. "What is it?"

"It's crazy, but..."

"What?" I demand, my voice coming out far angrier than I'd originally intended it to be. "Sorry. What's crazy?"

Sonny shakes his head. "Doesn't matter how long it's been," he says, walking towards my office door. "You're never going to age, and I'm always going to love you," he states, before opening my door and shutting it behind him.

. . .

LEIA'S POV

"And you're sure you don't want to tell your parents about us?" Owen asks me. He is looking down at me, and the very notion that our bodies are curled around each other in the second bedroom of the guest house is enough to distract any seventeen -year-old girl.

"Hmmm? What?" I ask, my eyes locking to his.

He smiles. "Were you zoning out again?"

I feel my goose bumps rising for what must've been the hundredth time that day. I lower my eyes, the flush deepening my core temperature tenfold, and found I never wanted him to stop staring at me like that. "Yes," I admit, biting my lip. "And the answer is no, Owen. No, no, no. We can't tell them today..."

"Leia, come on," Owen says, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Give me one good reason why we can't tell them."

I sigh, looking up, and knowing exactly how to placate my boyfriend. I lean forward then and brush my lips with his, a feeling of delight flowing through me as he pulls me closer to him. "Because," I say when the two of us finally come up for air, "you know as well as I do that it isn't safe yet. Once you've aged out of the system, then we can be more careful. You're thinking of taking that scholarship, aren't you?"

He nods. "Yeah—I just don't want to leave you..."

I silence him with another kiss. "Don't say that," I whisper to him, taking delight in his shivering at my close proximity to him. "You can't turn down NYU. God knows I'd give anything to be accepted there..."

He grips me tightly. "You will."

I shake my head. "But with this scholarship, you get your pick of dorm rooms and apartments because of the settlement money after your mom's death. And you get to graduate in January instead of being stuck in high school until June. Don't worry about me, please, Owen. You have got to take this thing."

"I don't know..." His voice is quiet then as he sits up, pulling me with him. He then proceeds to tangle his fingers into my raven, curly hair, which falls to the curves at my waist. "I guess I just know how good I have it with you... I'd hate to see you falling for anyone else in my absence..."

I catch his hand in my hair. "Don't say that," I say firmly, and his eyes lock to mine instantly. "I love you," I say quietly to him.

He smiles. "I love you, too."

"That is not going to change," I say, getting to my feet and looking for the obligatory outfit I had to wear for my birthday party. "If anything, what's going to change is your feelings for me," I say, bending down and giving him an eyeful of some sexy lingerie I'd gotten to go under the new outfit. "Besides, it's not like college freshman can just date seniors in high school. I'll bet you're going to trade me in for an upgraded, college model within a few weeks—"

Owen grabs me then, and a squeal escapes my lips. "Don't say that," he whispers, his arms tightly around my waist as I shiver with anticipation, the outfit falling from my fingers and back into a heap on the floor. "I love you, Leia Gabrielle Beckett, I am so in love with you, it hurts! I'm not going to trade you in for an upgraded, college model within a few weeks..."

"Months, then," I mutter.

He tightens his grip. "No, not months, or years."

I manage to turn to face him. "Days?"

Owen growls, leaning down and kissing me, hard, on the mouth. "No days, or weeks, or months, or years—or minutes, or seconds—or any format of time could ever, under any circumstances, change my feelings for you."

I sigh, kissing him again before managing to untangle myself. "Fine," I mutter. "I need you to get back into that monkey suit so that we can get back to the party. I know the whole double birthday thing has gotten old but what can you do when your parents who are really your aunt and uncle are dead set upon making an example of the first adopted kid?"

Owen makes a face. "They're one step away from being my parents, too, with that tone of voice, Leia."

"Point taken," I say, pulling on the tea-length dress and having him zip up the back once he's gotten his outfit on.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Kassandra puts in, turning over in the darkness to stare at me.

I shrug. "So what?"

Kassandra purses her lips. "Come on, Leia," she says. "We're not going to be one of those couples who doesn't talk now that marriage vows have been said." She gets on top of me then, smiling down at me with that sexy, devilish grin on her face. "Think I could persuade you?"

I roll my eyes. "Maybe."

Kassandra leans down and kisses me. "Can we talk now?"

I reach upwards through the darkness, pulling her downwards to me, so as our hair co-mingles and our bodies become lost in each other's. "Maybe later..." I say quietly into her ear.

Kassandra sighs, frustrated, and climbs off of me, before turning her back to me on her side of the bed. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me," she states, annoyed.

I instantly put my hand on her shoulder, and I feel her face me in the darkness, so as we are face-to-face. "You're right," I reply, lowering my eyes and sighing. "I do need to talk—we need to talk. But I'm always the one talking. You go first," I tell her gently.

She sighs. "Well, you know that, for a wedding present, you agreed to go to fostering classes with me..."

I nod. "Of course, yeah. We're almost done with the program..."

"Well, here's the thing," she says. "I've been treating Angel—that girl we spoke with when you brought me in at SVU—and she's been living in a group home. I just..." She sighs then, torn. "I want to foster her."

"Oh," I say, shocked. "I didn't realize you had someone in mind..."

"Are you okay with it?" she asks.

I smile at her, leaning in and brushing her lips with mine. "Of course I'm okay with it," I assure her.

She nods. "Okay. Now your news."

I sigh again then, knowing that being open and honest was the core to any good relationship in the world. "It's just..."

"What?" Kassandra asks, pulling me closer. "Tell me."

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive her," I say then, breaking down completely and throwing myself into Kassandra's arms.