I arrived at Blake's trial alone two weeks later, and only agreed to sit in the same row as my grandmother and my mother, provided that Grandma Maggie sat in between us. Although I was more than positive that my grandmother believed our argument trickling over into a public setting was slightly petty, she said nothing about it. Grandma Maggie simply moved to sit in between us, while all the while before the trial began, my mother kept shooting me pleading looks. Of course, matters were not made easier, given that Carisi was sitting just behind me, making me feel ill.

On the other side of the courtroom, behind what would end up being Marlowe's table with his attorney, I spotted Owen and Marcus sitting there, and found myself shaking my head and avoiding eye contact with both of them. I knew that Owen had a loyalty to Marcus now, and I respected that, but it still was a bitter pill to swallow to witness my first love siding with a low-life rapist. A rapist who preyed upon his employees was so low and made me sick; I would've paid good money to see Marlowe be taken down a peg, but it was enough to arrest him on my own, with Carisi trying to step in to attempt to calm me down, but I wasn't having it, not after what he'd put me through with his lies...

"You don't have to be the one to put the cuffs on him, you know."

"You don't actually have to talk to me," I snap back, glaring at him as I pull up outside The Fruit Saloon and get out of my car—I'd insisted upon driving that afternoon we were due to take Marlowe in. "Look, I'm still your partner, Carisi, but you and I are not friends. After what you did to my mother—"

"If I hadn't done so, you wouldn't be here."

After the DNA analysis had come in approximately six days ago, I could legally call Dominick Carisi, Jr. my biological father. It sickened me to consider that I never was a Beckett in the first place, and yet I always considered myself one, and my children would be keeping the name themselves. As we trudged down the rain-slicked sidewalk and towards the club, I reached out a put a hand on the door before turning back to Carisi.

"Be that as it may, I am putting in for a new partner as soon as possible. It's not professional to have my daddy escorting me everywhere," I say sarcastically as I open the door and step inside, not permitting him to have the last word.

I make my way inside the club, getting the nod from Nate that Marlowe is in the back and in his office. I immediately proceed to head back there, not giving way to pleasantries as I open the door, catching Marlowe midway through a telephone conversation. "Marlowe Fairbanks?" I say.

"Yes?" he demands, putting a hand on his phone. "This is important..."

"So is this," I reply, holding up the handcuffs.

He laughs. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," he says. "What organization do you work for?"

"Excuse me?" I demand.

He picks his phone back up again. "Sorry, Michelle—going to have to call you back," he says, and cuts the call. "Listen, miss," he says, getting to his feet and walking towards me. "People like to pull pranks on me all the time, and in my line of work, I'm used to it..."

"I'm not a prostitute you ass hat!" I shout, annoyed, showing him my badge. "I'm Detective Leia Stone, and you're under arrest."

Marlowe goes pale then. "What are you talking about?"

"Turn around," I say then, snapping my fingers. "Hands on your desk—that's better," I say, bending ever so slightly to cuff him. "Marlowe Fairbanks, you're under arrest for the rape of Blake Tomlinson, and for assault," I say, proceeding to haul Marlowe out of there.

"That's crazy!" he shouts. "I'm married!"

"Your marital status doesn't matter here," I reply. "You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you," I go on, seeing Carisi waiting by the entrance of the club, and nodding at me in approval, a dark expression on his face as he opens the door for me as I proceed to drag Marlowe out to my car.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Thompson," says the bailiff, and everyone in the courtroom rises as the door behind the pulpit opens. The DA has arrived, plus Marlowe and his attorney, and I know that Blake is somewhere hidden, waiting to be brought when he is called. The judge sweeps in through the door, her judge's robes pristine and in place, her raven hair down and wavy past her shoulders. She is quite short, but she sort of reminds me of a firecracker, and not someone that could be easily messed with.

Judge Thompson maneuvers her robes to sit inside the pulpit, taking half a moment to straighten herself out as she sets her case file before her. "Be seated," she states to the court, her voice higher than I'd originally anticipated, and I detected a Southern accent.

A second bailiff steps up then, as the DA, Marlowe, and his attorney remain standing there. "Docket ending 4517—People versus Marlowe Fairbanks. Rape in the first degree, assault in the first degree, bribery in the first degree," the bailiff finishes, making their way up towards Judge Thompson and handing over the necessary paperwork.

"We'll hear the People on bail," Judge Thompson says.

"Remand, Your Honor," DA Kirkwood says quickly. "Mr. Fairbanks has quite a few at his disposal, and we wouldn't want him leaving the country."

"Your Honor, remand is for common criminals," Attorney Harrison says, all about to step on DA Kirkwood's toes. "My client is married and is a father—he's hardly likely to flee. He also has a profitable nightclub business—"

"With all due respect, Your Honor, it was at said nightclub that these attacks in question came about, and we firmly believe that Mr. Fairbanks would, in the likelihood of his fleeing, would take his family with him, or end up leaving them behind to pick up the pieces."

"Come on, gentleman—we're not in trial-mode," Judge Thompson says, clearly amused by the pissing contest. "I believe that Marlowe Fairbanks is a risk to the outside world. The defendant is remanded without bail until trial, exactly two weeks from now," she says, slamming her gavel down. "Next case," she says, and snaps her perfectly-manicured, red fingers.

DA Kirkwood immediately turns back to me, my mother, and Carisi. "Great work, all of you," he says, and begins gathering up his things as Attorney Harrison almost immediately pounces on him.

"Think we can work out a deal? My client does not wish to endure the public and private embarrassment of a trial."

"Unless your terms are twenty-five years and him going on the registry, I don't think we have anything more to say to each other," DA Kirkwood says to Attorney Harrison with a smile. "Have a good afternoon," he states then, turning around and sweeping from the courtroom.

. . .

EDYTHE'S POV

I couldn't stand it that Leia refused to talk to me; even though she claimed that she wouldn't be communicative with me for things that had nothing to do with work—the personal things, I supposed—I never thought she'd carry out on her threat. She was meeting her work quota as well as could be expected, but I detested that look of anger she always gave to Sonny, or to me, on a daily basis. I'd heard a rumor—from Sonny, admittedly—that was considering or new partner, or a reassignment. I did hope that it wasn't true; I wouldn't want her leaving the squad when we were on bad terms; plus, she was one of the better detectives we had.

Should I have told my daughter that she was my biological daughter sooner? Yes, even I wouldn't be the last to admit that. Should I have also told her who her biological father was, if it really meant that much to her, when she was old enough to understand, or eighteen, at the very least? Yes. Even I knew that. Of course I knew that; keeping information of epic proportions like that had damning effects on any relationship. However, it was so complicated as it is; it was over a decade too late to come clean about my reasons now—and besides, she'd made it abundantly clear that she didn't want to talk to me.

As I sat there in the courtroom that day, watching the sparring match between DA Kirkwood and Attorney Harrison, I found myself torn between the trial, Leia, Carisi, and the duty I had to uphold a good marriage front. I'd promised myself to Lincoln so long ago now, and the heartache of what had transpired between Carisi and I had long lodged in my psyche. I knew it sounded silly and completely senile, but I could not ever bring myself to get over it completely...

I knew sleeping with a married man was a bad idea; hell, when I was old enough to understand the ins-and-outs of it all, Mom had come clean about her slightly illicit relationship with the very married Elliot Stabler. Of course, he had been separated from Kathy, his wife of many years, which was surely a step in the right direction, of course. However, I knew that due to Sonny's Catholic leanings, he would never, under any circumstances, leave Amanda unless she was a proven danger to their children.

As I laid in the bed of the hotel room after that first night, I'd told Sonny to go and hurry back home so as not to evade suspicion. Sure, Amanda was out of town, but how the hell did I know that she wouldn't tap his phone? Family vacation or no family vacation, we all of us never stopped being cops. It was in our blood—like my mother and grandmother before me, we ate, slept, lived, and breathed the law, and valued honesty above all things. I hated myself, initially, for giving in to temptation and sleeping with Sonny, but, of course, my inhibitions had been lowered by the drinking...

It sickened me that I had allowed myself to be swayed by an older, married man, and my superior in all things. The man had known my mother and grandmother for years, and had served beside, over, and under them since before I was born. And even if he hadn't been married to Amanda, there was the age difference to think about, plus the notion that other people may think I was sleeping with him just to advance my career. That wasn't why; it wasn't why I'd slept with Dominick Carisi, Jr., and that frightened me.

I convinced myself that I couldn't possibly have feelings for him—other than the purely physical kind. I further convinced myself that it was a one-time thing, and that we could simply pass it off as a drunken night that we neither of us would ever mention again. I got up and left the hotel an hour later, hailing a cab and feeling like a call girl as I took it across town and crashed immediately. I was not questioned about the lateness of the hour, nor my whereabouts, and slept the entire weekend off.

On Monday, I further allowed myself to disregard my lack of professionalism on that Friday night by convincing myself that not only was it thoughtless, but it had never happened in the first place. I went through the rest of the week, and Sonny and I didn't talk at all, and I figured that it was for the best. However, that Friday, he said that we needed to get together to talk, and I felt myself inwardly salivating at the notion of seeing him again.

Giddy as a teenage girl going on her first date, I put on black trousers, a matching black blazer, a loose-fitting white blouse, black heels, and a simple golden necklace with a long, rectangular pendant in gold. My hair was long and loose about my shoulders, and I didn't think twice about the notion that Sonny had specifically requested I meet him in a restaurant attached to a hotel. When I walked in, his jaw hit the floor and he got to his feet as I approached, kissing me casually on the cheek and sitting across from me.

"Hungry?" he asks me.

"Starving," I reply, my voice husky with desire.

"Great—order whatever you want, on me," he says, looking around with apprehension, almost as if he was convinced we were being watched.

I glanced briefly at the menu and as the waitress came by, I said, "A half glass of white wine, and a chicken Caesar salad, please," came my flawless, confident tone, for I knew Sonny's attention was all on me.

"Same," Sonny says, not bothering for pleasantries as he hands over his menu to the waitress, never taking his eyes off me. "You look fantastic."

I blush at the notion of flattery, and lower my eyes. "Thank you."

"Going somewhere after this?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Just hopping into bed," I reply, knowing full well how that statement would sound to his ears.

He sighs. "Edythe, we gotta talk..."

"About?" I ask him.

Sonny shakes his head. "We can't do this... Not again," he says, and I can tell that he doesn't want to say it; it's almost as if we're in some terrible soap opera and, in order to boost the ratings, the will-they-won't-they couple will, once and for all, become a won't they.

"What?" I whisper.

Sonny lowers his eyes, suddenly not needing the cue cards behind him—he has likely been rehearsing this all week. "I'm sorry, Edythe..."

I feel my jaw set then as I straighten in my seat. "It's because of Amanda and the kids, right?" I say quietly as our wine arrives. I take ahold of the stem, not even bothering to thank the waitress as I proceed to sip it.

"Thank you," Sonny says awkwardly as she walks away. "Yes, it's because of them, Edythe. Of course it is."

"She's your wife," I say, waving the glass around. "I get it."

"Edythe, listen to me," he says then, reaching across the table and grabbing my arm so as it stops its pendulum-like swinging. "I want you to understand something, okay?"

"Explain away," I reply.

He sighs, lowering his eyes to my hand—I've released the wine bottle of my own accord, and our fingers are wrapped together. "Listen, if I wasn't married and a father, I'd take a chance on you in a heartbeat..."

"I know," I say then.

"Edythe, please," he says quietly, "look at me." He looks tender as I raise my eyes to his. "I love you."

I feel the gasp escape my lips before I can call it back. "I love you, too," I whisper to him. "I've never felt this way about anyone—I don't think I ever will again. It's always going to be you..."

He smiles sadly. "It's always going to be you for me, too," he tells me.

. . .

MAGGIE'S POV

Getting things straightened out with your spouse or partner after something particularly nasty has happened can be an ordeal. As soon as Ophelia called with news that she had gone into labor, Hunter was agonizing about going to the hospital to see his new child. I explained to him that he would regret it if he didn't go, and then he persuaded me to go with him. Such a thing was so far out of my line of thinking that I said a half-hearted yes, but told him that there was no way I could drive without getting into an accident. Hunter took the wheel and we drove across town to the hospital.

I opted to wait in the waiting room, but soon found myself impatient with how long it was taking and wandered the halls. I remembered sitting in the very hall I turned into, bawling my eyes out to Olivia, because I could not believe that I'd lost the love of my life. My feeble attempt at living when I thought I'd lost Hunter left a debilitating tole on me, and all I could think of was, If I didn't have kids, there was nothing to stop me... Walking out in traffic, crashing my car, throwing myself from a skyscraper, or having a doctor do it himself—those were the four methods of suicide I could think of at the drop of a hat.

As I trudged down the hallway, I remembered then the first time I thought that, after losing Hunter and initially believing that I could and would never have him back, a miracle happened. This miracle being, of course, that Hunter had never cheated on me, and thus, neither had I him. I recalled the one time I'd ever become close, was when Elliot had come to see me that one day at Homicide, back when I'd been in charge of operations. Ever since then, however, Hunter had belonged to me, and I to him, especially after the make-up session...

"So let me get this straight... You're Mason Grayson, also known as my brother-in-law, and you're Rebecca Rosewood..."

"Rosewood-Grayson," Rebecca giggles. "Yes. I'm your sister-in-law."

I turn and look at Hunter. "I think you and I have some things to discuss," I say to him levelly.

"Right. Our cue to leave then," Mason says, putting an arm around Rebecca, who gives me a little wave, as they sneak out of there.

"The only thing you're guilty of, Hunter Grayson, is lack of communication, as far as I can see..."

"Yes," Hunter replies.

I nod. "Okay. It seems as if you're prepared to remedy that."

He nods. "I am."

"Good." I cross the room then and lock his door from the inside before making my way towards him. I get my fingers around his tie then and immediately proceed to unknot it.

"Maggie... What are you doing?"

"Be quiet," I reply, throwing his tie across the room and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"But, Maggie..."

"Shut up," I reply, standing on my toes to kiss him. "Do you know how scared I was?!" I demand then, my voice shaking. "Don't you know by now how much I am head over heels in love with you?!"

His eyes widen then. "Maggie..."

I giggle a bit, pulling up his hands to pull at my clothes. "Please. Come on. I am absolutely crazy about you... But you drive me crazy, Hunter Grayson..."

"Back at you," he replies, yanking me forwards then so as our bodies are perfectly aligned, making an almost-complete person. He leans down and proceeds to nibble at my neck and earlobe. "Do you know how many times I've thought about this, Maggie? Thousands—millions, maybe. Every night, before I go to sleep. Every morning, as I wake up. Every waking moment of my life," he goes on, pulling back so as to get a good look at my face. He gropes my backside with one hand and cups my face with the other. "I love you, Maggie.... You'll never know how much that statement will never falter in its authenticity..."

My knees threaten to go weak then. "Are electronic devices covered by insurance here, Hunter?" I ask softly.

He looks confused. "Yes, of course."

I nod. "Uh-huh. Any important files on your desk?"

He shakes his head. "Not at the moment."

"Good," I reply, taking my arm and sweeping the contents of his desk onto the floor, which is exactly when his phone decides to ring.

"Sorry about the noise, Sheila," Hunter says as I quickly proceed to undress him and myself the rest of the way. "Just talking with Maggie... Hold all my calls, will you, and make sure we're not disturbed?"

"Not a problem, Hunter," Sheila replies, a little giggle hidden at the back of her throat, which the two of us hear as he hangs up the phone.

Hunter makes a grab for me then, and I let out a squeal as he places me, naked, upon his desk. "I've wanted this for so long, Maggie... I wanted history to repeat itself..."

I feel my eyes filling with tears. "I don't love him, Hunter, really. I don't love Elliot Stabler. I only love you..."

"Shh," he says, smiling down at me as he gently covers my lips with his index finger. "I don't give a damn about Elliot Stabler—all I give a damn about is this divorce you're so intent on..."

I smile up at him, grabbing him so as he is perfectly positioned on top of me, and let out a sudden gasp then as he enters me. "What divorce?" I ask him, and we slowly begin again, just where we left off...

I feel a hand upon my shoulder again and, upon turning around, see Hunter standing there with a smile. "Is Ophelia all right?" I ask.

"She's not contesting the divorce—or annulment, rather, because you and I were still technically married at the time, now that your death certificate has been rendered null and void," he tells me in a rush.

I blink. "So, that means...?"

"It means, as of this moment—as soon as we file annulment papers for me and for Ophelia—you are I are technically almost married again."

I return his smile. "And the babies?" I ask.

"Three sons— Jackson Grant, Franklin Sherman, and McKinley Jefferson," Hunter tells me proudly.

"Triplets?!" I squawk, shocked.

"All healthy," Hunter informs me patiently. He places his arms around me then and gives me a tender smile. "I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?" I ask, evading his eyes.

"I do," he tells me, gently tilting my chin up, "and you have absolutely nothing to worry about, Maggie."

"Hunter, really—I'm sixty-three-years-old. I can't compete with Ophelia in any way. I'm just a dowdy first wife compared to her, who shoots out three babies at a time just to show her love for you—"

Hunter grins down at me then when, in mid-sentence, he stops me from talking and kisses me full on the mouth. "I don't give a damn about age, Maggie," he tells me firmly, his hands firm and tight on every inch of my body—while still keeping it PG-13 for anyone who might see us. "I'm your husband, and I've loved you since the beginning..."

"Hunter..." I say, shaking my head.

"I'm serious," he tells me, firmly. "When you lost me, I couldn't imagine what you had gone through, until the tables were turned and I thought you were lost to me forever. And now that I have you back, I never want to take that chance again," he says, getting down on one knee and opening a box, showing off the wedding ring he'd given me so many years ago, which I'd refused to wear until all the business with Ophelia had been legally taken care of.

"Hunter!" I cry out, the tears springing to my eyes.

He grins up at me. "Margaret Isabelle Holbrook, I am absolutely crazy for, head over heels, madly in love with you. So I am asking you in the hospital where we've had so many memories—both good and bad, which is what makes a marriage work, so that we can all realize somehow that life isn't perfect—would you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my beloved wife again, and Mrs. Margaret Isabelle Grayson?" he asks.

"But you said—" I begin.

"I know what I said," he replies. "I know that I said that our marriage would be legal again once Ophelia signed the papers—but that's not what I want. I want to marry you all over again, and to invite everyone and anyone we can possibly think of, and have a wild party, so the world knows that you are the only Mrs. Grayson to this Mr. Grayson that ever lived."

I smile down at him. "But Ophelia and the boys—?"

"They'll be well-provided for," he assures me. "Now, Maggie, will you marry me and be my wife again?"

"Yes, Hunter," I say, quickly, my gasps clogging up my ability to speak clearly to him in my excitement. "Yes. I'll marry you...again."

Hunter grins up at me, before slipping my wedding ring back onto my finger and getting to his feet, whereupon he pulls me into his arms and kisses me.

. . .

LEIA'S POV

Small things, I think to myself. Baby steps. You can do this.

"Come in!" my mother calls when I knock on her office door.

I open it and stand in the doorway then, almost under the impression that I'm not welcome there. "Got a minute?"

Immediately, she looks relieved at the notion that my tone is more neutral than negative, as it had been these last several days. "Of course, Leia," she replies, and gets to her feet. "Come on in."

I shut the door behind me then, crossing the office and perching in the chair on the other side of the desk, and only then does my mother lower herself into her seat. I find that I can't find the correct words—I don't want to lash out at her, nor do I want her to think that I'm even close to forgiving her. Finally, I decide that the truth is the best way to go here.

"I want to know why."

"Why what, sweetie?" my mom asks, and it infuriates me that she thinks that playing the innocent card is appropriate here.

"Why didn't you tell me—or anyone?" I ask her, locking my eyes with hers to let her know that I'm not backing down here.

"About Sonny being your father?" she asks.

I nod. "Yes. About that."

My mother sighs then, rolling her shoulders and shaking her head. "I wanted to tell you, Leia," she tells me softly. "For so long I wanted to tell you—I guess it was just easier for people to think that you were adopted."

"Easier for you," I say, finding that I am unable to keep the malice from my voice as I rain down on her. "How could you keep something like this from me?!" I demand, trying and failing to keep my voice contained.

The door opens behind me then and Carisi strides in like the interloper he is before he closes the door behind him. "What are we talking about?"

Immediately, my mother shoots a look at Carisi, automatically casting herself as the victim of the situation. "She wants to know why."

"Why?"

"Why you kept it a secret that you fathered me!" I cry out, exasperated. "I want to understand why!" I say, looking from one to the other. "Why did you only come clean about Fin?!" I cry out then, hysterics beginning to set in. "Why was he so important to talk about?! Why didn't you tell Sonny about me?!"

"I knew," Carisi says, and immediately, I see my mother's downcast look, and a chill goes down my spine.

"What did you just say?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

Carisi raises his eyes to mine. "I knew."

I get to my feet then, the visuals of me being hauled into the principal's office whilst these two reigned over me was too much to bear. "I'm going to need you to repeat that," I say, softly, deliberately so.

"I knew that you were mine," Carisi says again. "I knew that you were my daughter from the beginning."

My mother makes a slight noise of discomfort at this declaration, and tears fill her eyes at the notion of her lies coming undone. "Sonny, no..." She whispers, pleading with him.

"How did you know?" I demand.

"The dates were right, and your mom took some sick leave at the end of her pregnancy—convinced a doctor to sign something that she had mono," Carisi told me softly. "And then she gave the baby up to a woman she knew—your legal mother, it would seem—and then used that as a bargaining chip to get back into Lincoln's good graces."

"Mom!" I cried out, turning to look at her.

She lowers her eyes. "What?"

"You used me!" I cry out then, the betrayal filling my mind and causing me to shake all over as I considered it fully.

My mother sighs then, shuffling paperwork on her desk from left to right and back again, until I finally knock over her pencil holder in frustration, does she even allow herself to raise her eyes to mine. "If you want to look at it that way, yes, I suppose I did."

I raise my eyes to Carisi's then, almost as if he can explain her way of thinking at that time. "If you knew, didn't you offer to help her?" I demand then, resentment in my tone. "Or, since you were such a good Catholic boy, you couldn't bear to tell your wife and kids you'd cheated?!"

My mother, in anger, gets to her feet and throws her pencil container across the room, shattering it into a thousand pieces. "Don't you dare speak to Sonny that way," she dictates, her voice low and threatening.

I stand my ground then. "I have a right to free speech, Mother," I reply in a moment of pure defiance. "Since you yourself thought nothing of me, I had to ascertain that Sonny here did," I say, throwing him a look of disdain. "My mistake, apparently," I say to him, turning around to leave.

"I didn't know until it was too late!" Carisi shouts from behind me as I place my hand on the doorknob. "Your mother only told me after she'd placed you up for adoption! She didn't even put my name on the birth certificate!"

"Sonny!" my mother shouts, in desperation.

"That's enough—from both of you," I say, shaking my head. "I just came to tell you that I've come to give you my two weeks' notice," I say, hardly knowing where the words are coming from.

"What?" my mother demands then, shock in her voice.

I turn around to face her then. "Dad has given me a job at the firm," I say to her then, filled to the brim with glee at the thought of me defying her wishes.

"Excuse me?" she says, her face growing white as Carisi looks down at her in a moment of concern.

"I'm starting there in two weeks—if you recall, Mother, I took the bar exam some time ago."

"Those results can still be valid..."

"I know, which is why I took it again last month just for kicks," I reply. "I did very well—better, actually, than my first-time around. Dad's offered me a top-ranking position, and I think I know what field I want to do."

"Do you?" my mother asks, gripping the edge of her desk.

"Family law, with a main focus on divorce proceedings," I reply snidely, giving Carisi a look before turning back to my mother. "Speaking of which," I say, and reach into the bag I'd had at my shoulder the entire time, "before I forget, you've been served, Mother," I say, and cross the office again, tossing the paperwork onto her desk.

"What?!" she cries out, grabbing the paperwork, the emboldened words at the top reading PETITION FOR DIVORCE staring back at her. "What does this mean?!" she demands, looking back up at me.

"It means that Dad has had enough," I reply, putting my hair behind my ear, and revealing the wire I've been wearing the entire time.

"Leia!" Carisi shouts.

"I've had enough of both of you," I say firmly. "I'm tired of feeling guilty for my life choices, and the looks you give the photographs of me and Kassandra, and your behavior on our wedding day..." I say, and shake my head then at my biological father. "I could never call a man my father who makes me feel guilty about showing affection towards my wife."

"Don't blame him!" my mother shouts.

"You're right," I say, turning back to her. "I blame you. You're the one who made this bed of lies, and now you have to lie in it," I tell her, nodding towards the stack of paperwork on her desk. "Enjoy Splitsville, Mother, really," I say, turning my back on her.

It is then that I hear her heels running across the office towards me then, and I wonder what she can possibly be doing. As I turn around then, I see her hand anchored towards me, like she is going to hit me. My jaw flaps open, and yet I act instinctively and, in one final moment of revenge, dart out of the way at the last possible second, which allows her to punch through the window of her office door, the shattered glass going everywhere.

"Ah!" my mother shouts, her hand full of the stuff, which almost immediately co-mingles with her blood.

"Edythe!" Carisi shouts, darting across the room towards her. He glares up at me then, and I know that he blames me for everything.

"Don't say it," I reply then, contempt ridding my tone as I open the door to see the faces of the other SVU employees standing there, varying looks of concern on their faces before I turn back to Carisi.

"Say what?" Carisi demands, grabbing the decorative scarf from around my mother's neck and wrapping her bleeding hand in it.

"That I'm going to pay for this," I reply, taking the wire from behind my ear and securing it in my bag. "I'm paying enough as it is for having the two of you as my parents," I say, loud enough for the entire squad room to hear as I march out of there, taking my pre-packed box of stuff from my desk, and strutting out of there, vowing never to set foot in there again.

TO BE CONCLUDED