I take a few weeks' vacation time to get over the unexpected news of being raised by my biological parents, as well as the realization that I now had three young children to care for. I'd told Owen immediately that the notion of having further children, at this point, was beyond me, and he seemed to understand. I also told him that I fully intended to move out of the penthouse, wanting to distance myself as much as possible from my whole family. Owen agreed, thinking a house was just the kind of structure our family needed.

I put Rebecca and Henry into their stroller one afternoon, about half an hour before Alexandrine was due to get out of school for the day. We leisurely left the penthouse, as I intended to stop at the corner grocery store to pick up some dinner supplies beforehand. We walked down the sidewalk, and I was relieved that June had become warmer, although it was merely in the mid-seventies as we walked down the road ahead. The twins were quietly babbling to themselves, and all was well as I entered the store.

I picked up some meat and other dinner fixings, managing to get out of there in around fifteen minutes. I left the store and walked down the way towards my daughter's school as a cool wind blew through my hair. We made it through the gates and the slew of other mother's waiting let up a chorus of squeals as we approached, immediately surrounding the carriage and wanting to get a good look at Rebecca and Henry. I smiled tightly through the ordeal; sure, my twins were equally beautiful, with large blue eyes and their cheeks were beginning to fill out considerably, but they spent most of their time sleeping as it was.

The bell soon rang and Alexandrine trooped out onto the playground where I was waiting with the other mothers. She grinned and ran towards me, a spring in her step as she approached. It was Friday, and the following Monday would begin the final week of school, with only two more days after that. We'd decided to delay telling her until this weekend, knowing that the blow of changing schools was inevitable, yet changing neighborhoods was another matter entirely. As we walked, I recalled the text message I'd gotten from Owen, informing me that he'd had to double up on shifts and that he'd be home late, after Alexandrine had gone to bed, so it would be me and the kids on my own that night.

"Daddy has to work late," I told Alexandrine casually as we walked through the school gates and down the sidewalk.

"Why?" she asked, bringing one foot into the air and hopping along the sidewalk in a happy manner. "It's Friday."

"I know that, sweetheart," I replied patiently, not wanting to stop her, but equally not wanting her to fall either. "Daddy's a doctor, and doctors have to work."

She nods. "I know, Mama," she replies. She is silent for a few hops before bringing her foot down and walking next to the carriage, peering in now and again. "Does he miss us when he can't be at home with us? Daddy, I mean."

I nod at her. "Of course he does, sweetheart," I reply patiently. "Daddy's job just has a lot of people involved who need him. I mean, you remember when Daddy and I told you about what he does, right?"

My nine-year-old nods, fully absorbing the information. "Yes," she replies. "You guys told me that he helps babies who are sick."

"Yes, babies, toddlers, and small children," I reply.

"Like me?"

"Like you," I reply as we turn the corner, passing the grocery store. I reach into the bag kept below the stroller on the canvas holder and dig inside. "Bought this for you when the twins and I went before picking you up," I said, handing over her favorite fruit snack.

Alexandrine squealed and took it immediately. "Thanks, Mama!" she cried, breaking the plastic seal and devouring the sugary, strawberry-scented snack. "It's really good today," she commented.

I smile at her. "Good," I reply.

We walk to the end of the block before crossing the street and walking towards the penthouse. I unlock the street door and we head inside, making our way through the foyer as the door automatically locks behind us and barely shudder at the echo it makes. We head towards the elevator and I press the correct button before heading inside, while Alexandrine uses her other, non-sticky, non-red hand to press the other button. I drum my fingers along the handlebars of the stroller during the ride up, before sighing and turning to look down at her.

"Sweetheart, Mama has to tell you something."

"What is it, Mama?" she asks, crumpling her wrapper, her small hand gripping onto it, all the while sticking her sticky fingers into her mouth to wipe off the excess sugar secreted onto them. "Am I in trouble?"

I sigh. "Well, Daddy and I were going to tell you together, but he's not going to be here, so I have to tell you myself."

"Tell me what?"

The elevator doors ding and we reach the upstairs, and I find that I am annoyed that the elevator journey was so short that day. "Why don't you help me get the twins ready for their nap?" I ask her, setting the bag of groceries onto one of the kitchen counters. "Then, you can help me unpack the groceries and then we can have a drink on the veranda. Deal?"

"Can I have juice?" she asks as we step into the penthouse.

I grin down at her. "Of course," I reply.

We cross to the inner elevator, taking the stroller with us, before stepping inside there as well. We ride up to the second floor, depositing the stroller into the hall closet, as Alexandrine bent to retrieve Henry and I did so to Rebecca. We carried them down to the end of the hall to the nursery, taking them to their changing tables beforehand. We checked and changed them both before putting them each into one of their many sleeping onesies and putting them into their cribs. Slipping quietly out of the nursery, we head downstairs and go into the kitchen, unpacking the groceries.

"What kind of juice do you want, sweetheart?" I ask as Alexandrine carefully puts the new boxes of cereal away.

"Pomegranate, please," she replies.

"On it," I reply. I pour a glass of pomegranate juice for her and apple juice for me and set them down on a tray which I've put on the sideboard. Just as I'm about to pick up the tray and head outside with Alexandrine, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I check to see who it is. "It's work," I say, annoyed.

"I can take the tray," Alexandrine offers.

I nod. "Go outside and sit on the veranda," I tell her, and she picks up the tray as I move to answer the phone. "Careful," I say softly, putting the phone up to my ear and holding my breath. "Officer Torrance," I say into the receiving end.

"Hello Officer Torrance, it's Chief Henderson, your commanding officer," says the familiar voice into the phone.

"Hello, chief," I reply, envisioning Iris Henderson, my boss for over five years, on the other end of the phone. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm only just now hearing about the circumstances of your detective's exam and what caused you to leave early," she says. "Are you all right?"

I nod, quickly, and remember that she can't see me. "I am, thanks, chief," I reply in a quick voice. "A lot to take in—sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize, I just want to make sure you're all right," she replies. "You know, normally I don't make special calls like this, but as soon as I got my hands on the information, I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I ask, when there's a knock on my door. "Someone's at my place at the moment, chief..."

"It's me, silly," she said, laughing.

Crossing the penthouse, I move to check the spyhole before opening the door. "It's good to see you, chief," I say, stepping back to allow her in. "Do you want to sit down and have something to drink?"

"While that sounds great, I can't stay more than a minute," she replies, her long red hair tied back in a silky ponytail. "I wanted to come by and tell you personally the results of your exam."

I sigh. "Well, I'm not expecting anything..."

"What do you mean, detective?" Chief Henderson asks.

"Well, I..." My eyes widen then as I force my brain to process what she's saying to me in that moment, in the foyer of the penthouse. "What?"

Chief Henderson grins, putting out a hand, and I'm immediately grabbing hers. "I want to be the first to congratulate you," she says, shaking my hand firmly. "You were a good beat cop, and you'll be an even greater detective."

"Do you know where they're putting me?" I ask.

"Well, since your mother is in the business, you get a few options. Narcotics, Hostage Negotiations, Homicide, Computer Crimes..."

"SVU?" I find myself asking.

Chief Henderson nods. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

"How would I go about working there?" I want to know.

She smiles. "I'll put in a good word, although I suspect that you'll be able to get in on your own," she replies. "Congratulations," she says again before slipping out of the penthouse without another word.

. . .

My maternity leave was officially over during the summer, and I waited for my placement as a detective by taking some vacation time afterwards. It was when September dawned that I learned that Chief Henderson had made good on putting in a good word for me, and I was permitted to join SVU underneath my mother's captaining. I cleared my desk under Chief Henderson's watchful eye in the middle of the second week of September before getting into my car and driving across town to the SVU squad room.

I got the elevator up, gripping onto my box of possessions, and made my way up to the squad room and hesitated in the doorway. Carisi stood up from his lieutenant's desk, a big smile on his face, and stepped forward. He pulled me into a one-armed hug, and I did my best to return it as he took my box from me. He motioned towards a new desk, on the other side of the squad room, and placed the box just beside the computer.

"Your new desk," he said, putting out his hand with a smile. "Welcome aboard, Detective Torrance."

"Thanks, Lieutenant Carisi," I reply, shaking his hand. "Glad to be here." I turned ever so slightly to my mother's office. "Is my mother...?"

"Cap's in there," Carisi assured me. "She was on a phone call, but I think if you knock she'll let you in."

"Thanks," I reply, flashing him another smile before turning and making my way across the room towards her office. I tap on the door, turning the old-fashioned brass knob automatically after a moment and putting my head around the door. I look up to see my mother at her desk and she looks up, flashing me a smile before holding up a finger.

"Yes, thank you, Captain," she says. "Sorry, Dad. I know, I know. All right; I'll see you and Ophelia this weekend for dinner. All right; I love you, too. Yes, I'll be sure to check in with Livi, Donnie, and Mason later in the week. Actually, she just walked in," she tells my grandfather. "I don't know. I'll ask." She covers the talking piece of her phone. "Want to say a quick hello to Grandpa, or is now not a good time?"

"I'll say 'hi'," I reply, holding out my hand for the phone.

My mother smiles at my reply. "Dad? Hi. Leia would like to say hello. Great, I'll put her on," she says, handing the phone to me.

"Hey, Grandpa," I say into the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Grandpa says. "How's everything?"

"Fine, thanks Grandpa. How's things with you?"

"We're doing fine. But enough about me. Tell me—how are my beautiful great-grandchildren?"

"Alexandrine's doing well, thanks."

"And she got the present in the mail? I sent it overnight, so that it would get there on time..."

I laugh a little. "Yes, she did get that and your birthday note."

"I so wanted to be there for the party, sweetheart, but Ophelia and I couldn't say no to this vacation..."

I shake my head, forgetting that he won't be able to see it. "No, I know your second honeymoon in Europe couldn't wait."

"Ophelia was very busy over there. Learned two languages, too. Did your mom mention that? She learned French and Italian."

"No, I didn't know Ophelia learned French and Italian on the trip. That's amazing, Grandpa, really."

"And the twins? How are those beautiful angels?"

"The twins?" I ask. "Yes, Rebecca and Henry are doing wonderful—just got done baby-proofing because they've begun pulling themselves across the penthouse floor. Yes, their pediatrician says that they should start crawling within the next few months or so."

"Are you and Owen getting a house any time soon?" he asks. "Children should be raised in a house. Aren't they paying him enough at the hospital?"

I sigh. "Well, actually, we have found something," I reply, looking to make sure my mother is looking over some paperwork—my transfer papers. "We're going to see it next week."

"Sorry, honey! One second!" Grandpa says, the phone away from his ear before he brings it back again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart—Ophelia and I are jetting off for Hawaii and we can't miss our plane."

"No problem, Grandpa," I reply.

"Tell your mother I say goodbye," he says in a rush. "I love you both!"

"Love you, too, Grandpa," I say, and listen to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up myself.

"Hawaii?" my mother asks, a knowing look in her eyes.

I move to sit opposite her, putting my hands in my lap. "Yes. Last I heard, it was Ophelia's wildest dream to go."

My mother sighs, leaning back in her desk chair. "Am I wrong to compare him to Alec Baldwin?" she asks.

I shrug. "Based solely on the fact that Ophelia is a yoga instructor?"

She sighs a second time. "Maybe..."

I cock an eyebrow. "Did he ever call you or Livi a 'pig'?"

My mother snorts, almost as if she's making a point. "No."

"How are they, anyway? Livi, Donnie, and Mason?"

My mother smiles. "Mason's latest art gallery opening in Soho should be going off without a hitch," she replies.

"My seventeen-year-old uncle is already a bonafide millionaire," I reply, shaking my head. "Kid gets his GED at sixteen, goes to Europe, comes back a new man with half a dozen paintings..."

"Which sell for thousands upon thousands of dollars," my mother said with a satisfied smile.

"And Donnie and Livi?" I ask.

"Livi's still the top reporter for her network as of Tuesday last week," my mother tells me. "They've renewed her contract for New Morning, New York for the next five years."

"And my older uncle? Donnie?"

"As the Dean of Hudson University, my little brother hardly has time for me anymore," she says, smiling and shaking her head. "You know, now that he's the dean, it's made Hudson's relationship with SVU all the better?"

"That'll come in handy, considering," I say, "that I'm your newest detective." I sit back in the chair, giving my mother a smile. "Happy to have me?"

"Yes," my mother replies, signing the paperwork in front of her with a flourish of her pen. "Aren't you?"

"So happy," I reply, getting to my feet and taking her offered hand.

She opens her drawer and hands over a golden badge, the words DETECTIVE LEIA TORRANCE across the top and NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT etched onto the bottom. "To keep you official, detective," she said.

I pin it onto a belt loop of my suit pants. "I always thought wearing a suit to work was a rite of passage," I say with a chuckle.

"And what do you think now?"

I smile a little. "It still is," I reply.

"Well, off to your desk, detective," my mother says. "Your phone line was hooked up, supervised by Carisi this morning. He'll be partnering with you on all cases until we can get a partner for you on a permanent basis."

"No rush," I say with a smile. "I like Carisi." I see something flit through my mother's eyes then, but decide to ignore it as I give her a nod and slip back outside to my desk.

. . .

EDYTHE'S POV

I remembered how my desire not to expand our family had led to my separation from Lincoln, and how hard we'd had to work to get our marriage back on track. It was around three months after my miscarriage that I told Lincoln about the affair, and he learned about the pregnancy shortly thereafter. On the condition that I told him everything, he'd promised never to bring it up again.

I barely remembered that drunken night that Sonny and I had slept together; we had been on a national assignment three and a half weeks before Christmas, and had found ourselves in Dallas, investigating a serial rapist. I hadn't been in Dallas since my affair with Baxter, and it was all very surreal for me as I surveyed the familiar landscape. Sonny, of course, knew about my past history with Dallas, and was incredibly patient and gentle—although the decision to go to a club and get drunk on our last night in Texas probably wasn't a good idea. We soon returned to our accommodations in Irving, TX—I'd splurged and gotten us rooms at the Four Seasons, because I did not, in any uncertain terms, want to stay at the Rosewood Manor again—and went back to our rooms. We were staying in a suite, with separate bedrooms, and soon said goodnight in the living room—after splitting a bottle each of merlot and chardonnay respectively—we went our separate ways for the night.

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.

Until the day Amanda first found out Sonny's and my deception, to the day she retired from SVU, she never put me on another high-profile case. I was put onto desk duty for apparent insubordination, but she never fired me. Sonny knew from then on, that his marriage had officially broken down; he tried and succeeded in getting shared custody, and Amanda begrudgingly allowed it. Now that I was in charge, and back with Lincoln, I knew full well that she was justified in her actions, yet I believe she could have done a lot worse. She could have reported me to some friends in IAB, although she knew as well as I did that my father wouldn't have let his baby girl get fired.

The kids chose to live with her when they came of age. All I know is that the conversation of Sonny and me telling Fin that he's not Lincoln's son would kill him. He would need all the help he could get when the time came.

. . .

LEIA'S POV

We never forget our first loves—I know I wouldn't, and was fortune enough to have the opportunity to marry mine. After Ulysses and I had ended things, Owen and I began our relationship in secret, and I knew that it was as reckless as it was dangerous to do. Not only would my parents' fostering license be revoked, but they could've lost Chelsea as well. It was senseless, what we were doing, but we were absolutely addicted to one another, wholeheartedly.

I remember one night when he and I unequivocally couldn't stand it anymore. It was at the end of the week; Chelsea was staying late at school; Dad was already in bed, as were Felicity, Fin, and Hunter. All I knew was that the guest house would be the safest place for us to have a rendezvous; the security cameras had been formally uninstalled after my aunt Livi had left there, and it wasn't like you could hear anything from the main house or vice versa. Unless, of course, shots were fired, and that wouldn't be happening on our end.

We lay in one of the two guest bedrooms, tangled in each other's arms, absolutely loving the contact. I kept a close eye on the clock beside the bed; while my mother was out late at work, I knew this wouldn't last forever. We had to make sure to sneak back to our respective rooms eventually, before she was due home. If we didn't, there would have been suspicions on all ends. Finally, we disengaged ourselves from each other, picking up clothes from the floor in the darkness, and stumbled out into the living room.

"Careful," I said, reaching backwards to keep him from stumbling over the rug, which I knew could have the capacity to break someone's neck. "The boys like to play in her and it gets... Well, not smooth."

He chuckles from behind me. "I know."

We make our way towards the door, and then I turn around, pulling it open ever so slightly. "Should we walk back separately, or together? Or out the back? What do you...?"

He lowers his head to mine and brushes my lips with his. "I don't know."

I stand on my toes, placing my forehead against his. "Neither do I."

"Do you think they know?" he asked softly.

"They will, eventually," I replied.

"We'll make it work," he assured me.

I smiled up at him, feeling utterly in love with him. "I know we will—we just have to keep a lid on it until your birthday."

"That's right—then I'll move out and start college, and you can join me once you're eighteen..."

I touch his chest; thankfully it is hidden by a beautiful sweater that accented his form perfectly. "And... You're not sorry that you gave up being adopted? I told you, you could have..."

Owen silences me with a kiss. "I love you," he tells me. "No piece of paper could change that..."

"It would have," I tell him.

"You're right—it would've kept us separated forever."

I lean down, placing my ear over his heart. "I couldn't let that happen," I say softly to him. "I want you—forever."

Owen holds me tighter. "Forever," he whispers.

. . .

I'll admit right off the bat that I was not looking forward to partnering with Carisi on all future assignments until a partner came through for me. There was a point of contention between us—the knowledge that he'd fathered a child, my baby brother Fin, with my mother. Whether or not he knew about me knowing about that fact was unknown to me. Whether or not he was aware of my discomfort was an understatement—he knew what was going on. Even as he was getting up into his sixties, he knew.

"We got us a case," Carisi tells me after taking a seemingly routine phone call and running the conversation by my mother. "We have to go," he says, picking up his suit jacket. "Come on."

Getting to my feet, I tuck my gun into its holster and follow, pulling on my suit jacket as I hurry to keep up. "What do we got?" I ask him.

"Potential domestic disturbance call," Carisi replies as we go down the hallway and directly into the elevator. "Neighbors heard an argument and we have to go and check it out."

"An argument?" I ask as the chrome double doors close behind us. "Don't routine officers usually check that out?"

"Nuh-uh—neighbors also tipped us off that the couple has small children living with them in the residence," he replies as we get down to the ground floor.

I find myself raising my eyebrows. "Good to know," I reply as the doors ding and open for us to walk in the parking lot. I jingle my keys ever so slightly. "Want me to drive?" I ask, innocently enough. Hey, trust had to be initiated at some point, right? Disregarding his relationship with my mother, of course...

"Sure," Carisi replies, and I unlock my car. "Sweet ride."

"Gift from the husband," I reply ruefully, getting behind the wheel. "You can key in the address to the GPS system if you like."

Carisi types in a Harlem address, about fifteen minutes away, and I manage to pull out of the parking lot without getting into an accident. It becomes more and more obvious that he's trying not to look at me, and it makes me uneasy as we get into the flow of traffic. He says nothing, and soon we arrive at the residence in question, which turns out to be an apartment building whose architecture has just passed the one-hundred-year mark.

"Which apartment is it?" I ask, parking in front per his indications.

"6C," he replies, getting out of the passenger door.

I move to follow him, locking the car behind me and making my way up the trio of brick steps outside the stone building. I watch as he keys in a code, and I wonder if the concerned neighbor has tipped him off as to what it might be. Still silent, we head inside together, walking to the elevator and waiting rather impatiently for it to arrive. Finally, it does, and a smell of chicken soup, chili, leftover pizza, cigarette smoke, and marijuana fills my nostrils, but I force myself to keep silent. I press the 'six' button at Carisi's nod, and soon we arrive on five floors down from the top floor of the building.

"6C," I say softly to myself, stepping out of the elevator and skimming the brass numbers on the doors. "Right side."

"Great," Carisi says, and leads the way. He motions for me to keep a hand on my gun as we keep walking, and, quite soon, the sound of yelling fills our ears. He steps up to the door, and pounds on it. "NYPD!" he shouts, and I internally cross my fingers that those inside will hear him. "NYPD!"

The yelling keeps going, almost as if it is a recording; a recording that is never-ending. Carisi tries to bust down the door but cannot, and I see the inadequacy in his eyes then. Not wanting to show him up, but also not wanting anyone to be hurt, I step forward.

"Here, let me," I say to him, motioning him aside. Quickly, I make a running start and throw myself against the door; the lock is likely rusty and busts open almost immediately, while the rest of the door splinters and crashes to the floor. Hand on my gun, I bolt inside, Carisi at my heels. "NYPD!" I shout, and, upon looking into the living room, I see a man shaking a woman; both are red in the face—the man from anger, the woman from fear. "Hands up right now!" I yell at him, my voice devoid of any human emotion other than authority. "Let go of her and get down on your knees, right now!"

The man looks bewildered, but doesn't surrender his grip upon the woman's neck in the slightest. Carisi lunges for him then, and the two of them go flying as the woman grunts, air into her lungs at last. I dive down, grabbing her before she hits the hardwood floor, which is in desperate need of a polish. Carisi cuffs the man and tells me that he's going to take him downstairs and call for back-up while I speak to the woman.

"Are you all right?" I ask her, gently.

"Yo no hablo inglés," she says in a rush, tears streaming down her face; her eyes are a deep, chocolate brown, her hair a raven black, and her lashes are some of the thickest I'd ever seen. "Por favor, mis hijos... Mi nombre es Maria López," she tells me.

"Está bien, hablo español," I say quickly, and her eyes immediately look more at ease—she knows she can communicate with me. "Estás a salvo ahora. Mi nombre es Detective Leia Torrance. Ese era mi socio, el teniente Dominick Carisi. Estamos aquí para ayudarte."

"¿Me ayudarás?" she whispers, obviously overwhelmed.

"Sí, soy policía," I tell her, smiling. "¿Donde están tus hijos?"

"En el dormitorio en la parte de atrás," she tells me, shaking. "¡Por favor, no los lleve lejos de mí!" she cries out, and I wonder if she'd been threatened with something like that before. "Soy ilegal..."

I nod at her, taking her hand. "Mi departamento y yo no nos importa su situación legal. Sólo queremos que estés a salvo," I tell her.

Ambulances arrive shortly thereafter, and I am relieved when there is an EMT who speaks Spanish as well, putting Maria's mind at ease. I head into the bedroom as directed and find four small children there, aged four to eight. They mercifully speak English and the oldest one, Eduardo, is able to tell me that the man in the apartment is their mother's boyfriend. She works for him, he says, but that they were 'special friends', which I took to mean that they were in a sexual relationship and might be boyfriend and girlfriend. They are taken to the hospital then, and Carisi and I are contacted by my mother to come and report back before checking in at the hospital.

Getting back into the car, Carisi and I are silent for a few minutes. I get back onto the main road for Manhattan, just focusing on driving. I feel my new partner's eyes on me, and cross my fingers that he's not being a perv of some kind.

He sighs after a moment, shaking his head, almost as if he's in disbelief. "You know, it's a funny thing..."

"What?" I ask, the traffic on Central Park West becoming close to unbearable. "Is there something else I can assist you with, lieutenant?"

"It's nothing," he replies, "just that..."

"Spit it out, Carisi," I reply, going around what appears to be a garbage truck when it pulls off to the side of the road. "Our captain, my mother, informed me of our partnership earlier this morning. It may only be my first day on the job, but I've known you for years. Tell me. What's on your mind?"

He shrugs. "It's complicated."

"Is it?" I ask, inwardly groaning as some jerk refused to signal until the last minute, thus enabling us to miss the light. I turn to him as the light turns red and I brake, looking at him. "Come on, Carisi—we're partners. Partners shouldn't have any secrets. What's on your mind?"

"I don't understand how you can look so much like your mother, despite not being biologically linked to her," he says, shaking his head. "I suppose... Well, I've heard that some dogs take on the looks of their owners sometimes. Maybe that's the case here..."

"Excuse me?" I demand, my voice as cold as ice as I attempt to wrap my head around his statement. "Did you just call me a 'bitch', lieutenant?"

Carisi looks shocked that a nice detective like me would even say such a thing. "I would never..."

"Never call the daughter of your one-night-stand, who also happens to be your boss, a bitch?" I demand as my voice shakes, before I can stop myself.

Carisi looks shocked at my sudden declaration. "Pull over," he orders.

"I don't answer to you—I answer to my mother, and she's ordered us back to the squad immediately," I reply hotly.

"You won't be on the squad much longer if you don't pull this damn car over, Leia!" he shouts, and, fighting the urge to hit him, I do his bidding. "Look at me, Leia."

I force myself to turn and look at him, trying and failing to make my face look cold and emotionless while, instead, it is filled with hatred. "What?" I demand, my voice dripping with venom.

His eyes are ablaze with anger. "Where do you get off telling me that your mother and I had a one-night-stand?" he demands.

"Because I know it's true, okay?"

"No, not okay," Carisi says, firmly. "Tell me what you know."

"Owen and I know," I reply.

"You told him?!" he shouts, betrayal in his tone. "Did your mother tell you about this as some sort of adult-to-adult conversation?"

"No—she didn't have to," I reply. "Owen and I were sneaking around for over a year before he moved out," I confess to him.

"Are you crazy?"

I shrug. "I don't know—does it matter?" I say, slumping back against the seat. "It was mine and Fin's birthday—it was that stupid joint-party. I was seventeen, he was nine."

Carisi reacts to that. "You know Fin's actually a year older than...?"

"Of course I know—Owen and I found out the same day. We were in the guest house when my mother—what was it you called it?—ambushed you. We were in one of the guest bedrooms."

"Why were you in there?!" Carisi demands.

"Gee, Carisi, we were seventeen-years-old, madly in love, and our relationship was illegal in the eyes of the law. What do you think we were doing?!" I demand, giving him a look. "We were hooking up!"

"So, you know that Fin is only your half-brother?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Why didn't you say 'adoptive half-brother'?" I ask, feeling as if something is going to drop from inside me.

Carisi blinks, confused. "Didn't you stay for the whole conversation?"

"Whole conversation? Owen and I heard you and Mom leaving so we got the hell out of there..."

He sighs. "We walked outside, but continued talking..."

"What are you talking about?"

He puts his head into his hands for a moment before turning to look at me. "Edythe knew that Henrietta wanted a baby. She also knew that such a thing would be a little complicated to obtain because she's gay, because your mother had already gotten wind of her fraud..."

"Just spit it out," I reply.

"Your mother knew the whole time that you were hers," Carisi replies, his eyes full of guilt and regret.

"Hers and my dad's," I say. "Hers and Lincoln's."

Carisi looks away.

"Carisi!" I demand, grabbing ahold of his shoulder and shaking him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Henrietta found the whole idea of having an egg inside her that had been fertilized by Lincoln's DNA. He was only her paternal half-brother, but she found the whole institution of it disgusting."

I feel my blood run cold. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you are the biological daughter of Edythe Beckett, but not of Lincoln Beckett."

"Carisi?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "I can't..."

I grab ahold of his wrist then. "Don't... Don't do this..."

He pulls away from me. "Can't be helped." His voice is clipped, unemotional—he doesn't care.

"Carisi!" I scream, my voice now borderline desperation. "Please... Please, don't do this to me!"

He shrugs. "I don't know what to do here."

"Don't know what to...? Jeez," I whisper, slamming the back of my head against the headrest on my seat. "You've just told me that the only father I've ever known, Lincoln Beckett, is not my biological father, or my biological uncle. In fact, there is no link between us whatsoever. So help me, Carisi, if you know who my father is, and you're withholding information, then tell me now."

Carisi sighs. "Your mother... Edythe... Edythe was pregnant before starting police academy," he said quietly. "It was a long time ago—over twenty years. She managed to concealed the pregnancy—didn't even admit that it happened to herself. When you were born, she gave you up to Henrietta..."

"Raped?" I whisper. "My mother was pregnant? By who?"

"Her ex-fiancé—Baxter somebody."

"Baxter died in a plane crash," I reply.

"Yes—nine months after you were born."

"She got an abortion..."

"Lies, all of it," Carisi replied. "Your biological father is Baxter, your mother's uncle-by-marriage, who she had an affair with as a teenage girl."

I reach out, gripping the steering wheel then. "Oh, god..."

"I can walk from here," Carisi says coldly. He gets out of the car; I barely react to the door slamming behind him.

I sit ridged in the front seat, the sensation dawning on me that my mother hadn't initially wanted me. I barely felt the hot tears falling from my eyes, and soon I felt myself screaming. I hit the steering wheel over and over until my knuckles were bleeding, but just managed to send a text to my mother.

Something up at Alexandrine's school. Will be by bright and early tomorrow. –L

I drove as quickly as I could to a swanky apartment building that I knew so well, and had come to call a second home for many years. I parked in a parking space and made my way upstairs, going to the third floor. I knocked on the door, wincing as I left blood stains on it. Hopefully the inhabitant would forgive me...

The door opened then and Olivia stood there, smiling initially but then looking shocked at my appearance. "Leia!" she said, immediately drawing me into her apartment, giving a cursory glance at the blood on her front door. "Sit down. Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Did... Did you know?" I ask her.

"Did I know what?"

I lock my eyes with hers. "Did you know that I'm Edythe's biological daughter, and the daughter of her former fiancé?" I whisper.