PRESENT DAY — Wednesday, April 3, 2047; 11:19 A.M.

"You know you're allowed a union delegate or an attorney to be present during this interview, don't you, Detective Beckett?"

Whoa, formality, I think to myself. "I understand, Captain Grayson," I reply, not wanting to give my grandfather the satisfaction. I lean forward then, so as the microphone can pick up everything I'm saying clearly. "I'm here of my own free will and I don't want or need a union delegate or an attorney. I have nothing to hide from IAB."

"Okay, we'll commence with the formal questioning, then," my grandfather says quietly, shuffling the paperwork. "Can you account for your whereabouts Friday evening, the twenty-ninth of March at around twelve-thirty a.m.?"

I nod at him. "Yes. I was at the hospital, taking a statement from a victim and then it had been a long shift. I drove my partner, Lavinia Hatfield, back to the squad room and then went home."

"When did you arrive home?"

"I arrived in Long Island about an hour and fifteen minutes later, a bit after two in the morning," I reply.

"And what did you do when you got home?"

"I made sure my twins were sleeping soundly, called my father to tell him goodnight, and went to bed myself."

"No one besides your children were in the house at the time?"

"Their new nanny was there, Kassandra Stone—she was up late working on a paper for school."

"Did you see her at home?"

I nodded. "I did. She was sitting at the dining room table, on her computer, so she must've known what time it was when I came in."

"Did either of you speak?"

I nod again. "Yes, before I went upstairs to kiss the twin's goodnight. I asked her what she was working on."

"Did you specify what it was?"

I force myself not to sigh at the patronizing tone. "She did. It was her dissertation for her child psychology degree about nature versus nurture and the pros and cons of each method of child rearing."

"And then you went upstairs to see to your twins?"

"Yes. I went into the nursery, kissed them both goodnight, and then I went into my bedroom down the hallway."

"Where you made a phone call to your father?"

I nodded at him. "Yes. I called to make sure Hunter was all right and then I took a shower."

"You do realize that you potentially incriminated yourself."

I blink. "Excuse me?" I demand.

"The very statement—'and then I took a shower'. It leads to reason that you wanted to wash off incriminating evidence."

Son of a bitch, I think to myself. "That's not what I was doing," I reply. "It had been a long day, and I wanted to take a shower before going to bed."

"Who's Hunter?"

I fight and succeed in not rolling my eyes. "Hunter Beckett. He's my youngest brother and the victim I mentioned earlier."

"Your younger brother was raped at a high school party?"

I nibbled at my inner lips. "Yes," I replied tightly.

"You and Lavinia Hatfield were the responding detectives on the scene of the crime itself?"

"Yes."

"You had him taken to Mercy Hospital?"

"I did."

"Where you forced him to have a rape kit?"

I felt better knowing that my hands were in my lap, as they now twitched, my nails curling back and biting my palms. "I didn't force Hunter," I replied. "I explained to him the benefits of having one and he came to the conclusion that having one was better than not having one. It was his choice."

"After you left Hunter in his hospital room, what happened?"

"I went straight to the nurse's station and told them that Hunter had authorized the rape kit," I replied. "As I left, I saw a nurse heading back to his room to have it taken care of."

"And then what happened?"

I pursed my lips. "I went to the parking garage, where my partner was waiting by my car," I reply.

"What was she doing?"

"She was speaking to her fiancé—I didn't get much of the conversation, she cut the call as I approached."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"She told me that I looked like hell."

"And what happened next?"

I find I am at a loss for words.

"If you wish to continue at a later time, that is all right."

I purse my lips again. "No. No, I'm fine."

"Okay. What was said next?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Detective Beckett, you're allowed to have a union delegate or an attorney present, yet you've refused that right. Do you have something to hide?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Then speak!" my grandfather orders me.

. . .

5 DAYS AGO — FRIDAY, MARCH 29, 2047; 2:07 A.M.

"Anyone up?" I called as I walked into the foyer of my parent's beautiful mansion on Long Island.

"In here," Kassandra called, an ounce of distraction in her voice.

I took off my scarf from around my shoulders and walked into the dining room where Kassandra seemed to finish typing up a sentence on her Word document before looking up at me with a smile. "Hey, sweetie," I said, flashing her a smile as I took off my jacket. "Everything go okay today?"

She nodded. "Yes. I picked up the kids from the daycare on my way back from class earlier this afternoon," she replied. "They were perfect angels. I gave them some of the chicken and rice soup—very mild—that Thompson had left for them and they absolutely loved it."

"No spit-ups then, I take it?" I asked, giggling as I put my jacket over my shoulder and leaned against a dining room chair.

"None at all," Kassandra assured me. "We had some playtime afterwards and then we watched one of the educational baby videos," she tells me. "After that, I gave them their bath and then read to them for a while. I got them to bed around seven forty-five on the dot. They woke up around midnight and were both wet but have been down ever since."

"You're so good," I reply, pulling her into my arms. "Thank you."

"I got your text a while ago," she says softly to me. "Hunter going to be all right, you think?"

I shrug. "God, I hope so. He really doesn't need a set-back right now, but that's beside the point. What happened to him was just plain wrong. The poor guy actually thought he wanted it..."

"And your parents?" she asks, pulling back and peeking up at me. "They going to the hospital?"

"Dad texted; he was working late in court but got away to go be with Hunter. Mom and Sonny went to Bridgehampton to get the parents of whose party it was on the scene... I don't know. And Felicity and Fin are on their honeymoon and in Chicago and I'm exhausted..."

"Really?" Kassandra asks, cocking her head to one side. "Listen, my paper isn't due for another two weeks..." She reaches up and brings her nimble fingers to my neck, massaging the area between it and my shoulders, and I immediately melt at her touch. "Why don't we go upstairs, take a shower, then I'll give you a massage and then we can go to bed? Deal?"

I smile down at her. "Sounds like heaven," I reply, leaning down and pulling her upwards, brushing her lips with mine.

"When do we get to tell them?" she whispered into my mouth. "I know all this with Hunter is a pressing matter, but come on. When you move into the house in Westchester, we're going to be sharing a bedroom..."

I sigh, shaking my head. "It's difficult," I reply, feeling safe in her five-feet-seven frame and strong yet lean arms. "You know as well as I do that my divorce just became final. Me dropping this on them now? I don't know what Owen would try to pull... I've been a hypocrite."

"Not entirely," Kassandra replies diplomatically. "You're just as homosexual as Owen is, and you know it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I reply. "Don't worry—I know my parents aren't going to care. Just a little longer, please? Besides, we were hiding our feelings for years. What's a week or two more?"

Kassandra sighs, but nods. "I understand."

I stand on my toes and kiss her, feeling completely safe. "Don't worry. I'm yours now. Now that my divorce has been finalized, no man is taking me away from you ever again."

Kassandra growls in my ear. "Better not," she replies.

I gently tangle my fingers into her long, silky red hair. "They won't. I'm over Owen and all of it. Promise."

Kassandra smiles down at me, and I see her love me etched in their gorgeous greenness. "I'm glad. It was hell waiting for you, Leia."

"Back at you," I reply. "Why don't you get the bedroom presentable? I promised Dad I'd give him a call when I got back."

"No problem," Kassandra replied. "Want to kiss the kid's goodnight?" she calls over her shoulder as she heads up the stairs.

"You can read me like a book," I say, already dialing my father's number as I made a move to follow her.

. . .

3 DAYS AGO — MONDAY, APRIL 1, 2047; 9:33 A.M.

Pranks are destined to be pulled on a day like today, and it was our job as police detectives to keep them at bay. As I entered the squad room that Monday morning, I was pleased that the frequent overcast days had dissipated and that the spring sunshine was finally allowing itself to make its presence known. I went to my desk promptly, smiling tightly at Lavinia, who looked a bit tired after a weekend, but seemingly perturbed to see me in the squad at all.

"Something wrong?" I asked casually, sipping my hot chocolate and peering across the table at her.

She shook her head. "No, it's just..." She leaned forward ever so slightly. "Your mom is taking half a day off... Weren't you allowed...?"

I shake my head at her. "I'd rather be working," I reply as Sonny comes in and looks the squad over. Other than the two of us, there was Matthew Lowenstein, the newest SVU team member. Matthew was now our sergeant, and he'd transferred six months ago from the Bronx Hostage Negotiations.

"Captain's out until after lunch," Sonny said to the three of us. "I'll be in her office if any of you need anything," he calls over his shoulder.

I raise my eyebrows and turn back to Lavinia. "Glad I had a full breakfast this morning," I replied, looking over some reports I'd had to type up on the arrest of the twins and Jeannie on Saturday.

"Why do you say that?" Lavinia asks, and I see she is hastily writing down some notes pertaining to her wedding plans.

I bite my lip, knowing that getting my relationship with Kassandra off my chest would be good, especially after doing a practice run on Lavinia first. "In a little while," I tell Lavinia quietly. "I want to be somewhat productive... Then maybe Matthew'll let us have a break."

"If you say so," Lavinia says with a smile, and we mutually go back to our paperwork at hand.

Two hours passed, and Lavinia and I were finally permitted to leave the squad room for lunch. Heading outside, the warm weather of the morning had faded, and rain pelted our hoods as we made our way down the block to a Chinese restaurant most of the squad had frequented over the years. Stepping inside, the smell of cooking oil was all consuming, and yet it smelled delicious that day. We got menus and were immediately shown to the table by Mrs. Su, the proprietor, who had known me since I was a little girl.

"I will get you your usual drinks," she said with a kind smile before slipping back towards the kitchen.

"I think I want fried rice today," I muse to myself. "What do you think you're going to get, Lavinia?"

"Moo shu pork—what does it matter?" she asked. "We're away from the squad room. What do you want to talk about?"

I sighed, lowering my menu. "Remember last week when you mentioned dating to me and I got all evasive?"

Lavinia smiled. "Of course—give me some credit. I tend to remember certain conversations, especially when the proper context is given."

I nibbled at my lip. "The reason why I was so evasive was because... I am seeing someone," I told her quietly as Mrs. Su arrived with our drinks. "Thank you," I said, shooting her a smile as she placed our cans of juice beside glasses filled with ice before leaving us to talk.

"Get out! You're seeing someone?!" Lavinia cries, reaching across the table and making a grab for my wrist. "Why didn't you tell me?! Who is he?! Do I know him?!"

I lowered my eyes. "Well..."

"Wait, I think I know," Lavinia says, nodding. "Erik Russell, Paxton's partner in the architecture firm. He told Paxton he was going to ask for your number... Did he ask you?"

I sighed, pouring my juice onto its bed of ice. "Oh, yeah," I replied sarcastically, recalling his champagne-smelling breath and his meaty hands as he mauled me after I'd stepped out of the ladies' room. "Long story short, I had to remind him that I was a cop before my badge found its way into his eye and my knee found its way into his groin..."

"What a prick! So that's where that black eye came from!" Lavinia said, shaking her head. "Bastard told Paxton he walked into a door! And normally he's such a puppy when it comes to these things..."

I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. He doesn't come near me again, I won't have to arrest him."

"Okay, then," Lavinia said, stirring her drink briefly as she mulls over who my potential mates could be. "I give up. Tell me. Who are you seeing?"

I sigh, feeling my shoulders coming down in that one movement. "It's nothing bad," I explain to her, catching the worried look in her eyes.

"As long as they're not under eighteen or a potential or former suspect, it doesn't matter to me," Lavinia assured me. "Now, who is it?"

"Kassandra," I replied.

"Kassandra?" Lavinia asked, raising her eyebrows. "Your nanny?"

"She's a graduate student at Columbia University School of Psychology," I replied in a patient manner. "Kassandra is graduating in three months and has already received a job offer at St. John's Children's Hospital in Westchester County upon her graduation."

"How old is she again?" Lavinia wanted to know.

"Twenty-four," I reply. "She graduated high school at fifteen."

She hesitated. "Are you in love with her?" Lavinia then asked, intrigued, sipping at her drink, obviously curious.

I nodded. "Yes. I have been for a long time."

Lavinia lowered her drink. "So, you're...?"

I met her eyes and smiled. "Yes. Yes. I'm a lesbian."

"Does Owen know?" she asked.

I nodded again. "Yes. I told him over the weekend when he brought Alexandrine to me with Marcus. Marcus was supportive immediately, but Owen was shocked to say the least. I assured him that nothing happened until after we were divorced, but he knows that I was friends with Kassandra for years."

"How'd you meet her?"

"I'd just graduated with my Associate's Degree," I reply, my mind automatically taking me back to that day. "Owen was doing his residency, and that summer I took Alexandrine to the pool to begin mother and baby swimming classes. She adored it..."

"And that's where you met Kassandra? The pool?"

"Yes. She was nannying for another family at the time and we just sort of clicked —it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before."

"Were you ever...?"

I feel a flush blooming on my cheeks at the question. "Never," I reply. "I was married to Owen; I thought I knew what love was. Truth was, I'd only ever been with two guys and thought that was it..."

"Until?"

"Remember my sister, Chelsea? The one my parents adopted?"

"And the one who hurt Alexandrine?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Yeah, I remember," Lavinia replies, her tone bitter.

"Before talks about Chelsea or Owen being adopted even came up, Chelsea said she wanted to talk to me one night."

Lavinia cocked an eyebrow, saying nothing.

"I let her come into my room, thinking we were just going to have a sisterly conversation... Dad was working in his study downstairs, and Mom was having a late night with the squad. The younger kids were asleep, and Owen was doing a film project, so he was still at school..."

When I hesitate, Lavinia asks, "What happened?"

"She told me that she knew about me and Owen sneaking around," I reply. "We snuck around for a few weeks before our parents ever brought up wanting to adopt either of them. I don't know how, but Chelsea must've caught on; she never told me how, and I never thought to ask..."

"Did she threaten you?"

I shake my head. "No, thank god. But she did say something that disturbed me, and still does, even to this day."

Lavinia is gripping the side of the table, listening. "What did she say to you to make you so freaked out?" she wanted to know. Lavinia's blue-gray eyes were immediately hanging on my every word, and I knew that her being enrapt wasn't so that she could gossip. She wanted to help me, or at least have another piece of the puzzle that was my bizarre life.

I shiver at the memory. "She said that, since she was two minutes younger, that I should be into her. Our bodies were the same, she said, and there was nothing like making love to a woman. With the two minutes Owen had on her, was two minutes that he would always be dying faster. Then she said that I would be much happier with her, and that if I knew what was good for me, I'd ditch Owen and let her have me herself."

"What did you do?"

I shake my head. "Told her to get out," I reply. "I told her that she didn't know what she was talking about, and that she was crazy."

"What did Chelsea do then?"

"Grabbed me," I reply, waving my hands at the area where my breasts were. "She took ahold of my nipples so hard that it hurt. She rolled them over and over in her fingers, laughing as I tried to push her away from me. Then, she pulled down the shirt I was wearing, and told me that I had to get studs put into them, for her. She said that I'd pay if I wouldn't let her have me, and then she tried to kiss me. I shoved her off, and told her to get the hell out, and thankfully, that time, she listened, but she laughed, reminding me that I would pay."

"And you did pay," Lavinia says quietly.

"Yeah—with my daughter," I say, my hands curling themselves into fists. "I take comfort that she's locked away—no more victims."

Lavinia nodded. "It'll be okay."

I smile at that. "Now that I'm happy and my children are safe."

"There's always tomorrow," she said quietly.

I stop myself from snorting. "Don't remind me."

. . .

2 DAYS AGO — TUESDAY, APRIL 2, 2047; 1:28 P.M.

"Come on in, sweetheart," my mother says, hanging up on her phone call as I show myself into her office. "You can shut the door, if you want. Take a seat. Just writing down something from the DA's office about Hunter's case. Then I'll be right with you."

I shut the door before perching on the edge of the provided seat. "No problem," I reply levelly. "Take your time."

"Sorry we didn't get more of a chance to speak yesterday afternoon," she puts in after finishing her notes. "The day just got away from us."

I give her a small smile. "That's all right. I had a nice lunch with Lavinia. It was all okay, I promise."

My mother cocks her head to one side, looking me over. "Are you okay?" she asks me, looking me up and down. "You look...different."

"Bad different or...?"

She smiles. "Good different," she assures me. "Wow. I haven't seen you this happy since you got to play little orphan Annie on stage..."

"That was a long time ago," I reply. "I'm a whole new person now."

"Really?" my mother asks. "How's that?"

I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "Because now I'm living honestly with myself, but not in front of others."

She moves, walking around the desk and standing in front of me. "Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything," my mother says. "No matter what it is, I will support you."

"What if I told you I was a serial killer or something?"

"Then I'd get you a damn good lawyer and hold your shield for you until you were found innocent."

I blink in surprise at that, but shake it off—there were more important matters to be attended to. "Listen, Mom, we have to talk."

"You want to transfer to another unit, don't you?" she asks. "Or maybe it's to another borough? With Kassandra's job coming up at the hospital in Westchester, it's only natural that you'd want to work close to her..."

I shake my head. "What?"

My mother leans back against the desk and says in a methodical manner, "Well, I wasn't born yesterday."

"Excuse me?"

"Your father and I know how long Kassandra has been your friend," she said easily with a smile. "He and I mutually suspected that after you ended things with Owen that it became more than just a friendship..."

"So, you two know, then?" I ask her. "You two know that I'm a lesbian?"

My mother sighs. "I saw it after you and I got back on speaking terms," she replies easily. "I knew that you were more invested in the marriage than he was, but also knew that if I said anything like that, you'd run for the hills."

I nod. "In retrospect, probably."

My mother chuckles. "We support you, honey—your father and I. We think that Kassandra is a lovely girl, and she certainly does well enough in school to get that job up at St. John's. I know you two will be very happy together." The phone rings then and she holds up her finger. "Hold that thought," she says, turning around halfway to answer it. "Captain Beckett, SVU," she says.

I see her face contort in horror. "What is it?" I ask her.

"Where?" she demands into the phone. "His multiple injuries sustained in the attack meant that he had to stay in the hospital until tomorrow. Why was he released early?! Who?!" she demands then, her voice entering "shrill" territory as Sonny opens the door from behind me and steps in, Matthew and Lavinia coming up behind him. "Okay... Okay, thank you," she says, hanging up the phone hurriedly and turning to look at all of us. "Hunter and Fin have been kidnapped from the hospital," she says weakly. "Fin came over last night from Chicago to be with him and now... They just got the security footage and it looks like there were signs of a struggle..." Her voice breaks.

"I have friends at the hospital," Matthew says. "I'll call them and see if they saw anything."

"Thank you," my mother calls after him as Lavinia hovers in the doorway, and I join her, watching my mother and Sonny together.

Sonny, meanwhile, has crossed the room and is holding my mother's face, and has his forehead pressed against hers. "It's okay," he says quietly, making no move to let her go. "Breathe."

My mother nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How could this happen?" she asks him brokenly.

"We're going to get our boys back," Sonny assures her.

Our boys? I think to myself, confused.

"Go to the hospital—canvas the area," Sonny orders, never taking his eyes from my mother's. "You'll find something—you have to."

Without saying a word, I turn on my feel and stomp out of there. I grab my jacket and feel Lavinia at my heels as I walk out of there. She is silent throughout the ride on the elevator, and makes no protest as I automatically unlock my car and drive out onto the highway. She also says nothing as I keep on driving, not in the direction of the hospital, but somewhere else. Finally, I know she can't take it anymore, because she speaks.

"Where are you going?" she asks me.

"Just wait," I reply. "Just wait."

We arrive at the destination quickly—at the Sappo School hot spot on Long Island, which is a rather large rural park area which was great for star gazing. I make sure my gun is holstered appropriately, and park in the lot, and sense Lavinia at my heels as we walk down the curved path and into the woods. I can't explain it, but I just knew—I just knew that my brothers were in there, and that the two of them were in immediate danger. I hear voices as we get deeper into the woods, and I distinctly hear Russian accents among them, along with Jeannie's rather haughty tone that Hunter had always inexplicably found attractive.

"My dad's a cop." Fin's voice. "You won't get away with this."

"Shut up!" one of the twins ordered.

"My dad's a lawyer," Hunter puts in. "You really won't get away with this."

"Shut up!" one of the twins ordered again.

"You took our dream away," one of the twins said—I think it was Alexander speaking, as he tended to enunciate his vowels a bit more.

"We wanted to be all-American," Vladimir puts in. "But when we come here, there is already team captain."

"Coach would not even let us try out for it," Alexander said. "We deserved the position, but he refused."

"That was his first mistake," Vladimir said with a growl. "Now, you and your brother will pay for wrongdoing done to me and my brother."

"And I get to watch," Jeannie said with a sweet giggle.

I turn to look at Lavinia just as we near the clearing. Alexander, Vladimir, and Jeannie all have their backs to us, while they've put Fin and Hunter in a kneeling position, hands behind their backs. I wonder if they're tied up but cannot see from this angle. If I walked to the other side of the clearing, I'd be able to see fine, but I would risk the others seeing me. I shut my eyes for a moment to think, and all I saw was red.

I saw Chelsea grabbing me.

I saw Ulysses grabbing me.

I saw everyone grabbing me in the line of duty when I was undercover as some piece of ass. But most of all, I saw him. Most of all, I saw Ryder Knox, the man who had tortured my mother in her youth, grabbing me. Assaulting me. Wishing to bring pain onto me. My eyes snapped open then and, ignoring Lavinia, drew my gun and stepped into the clearing.

"Police!" I screamed at them all, a bloodcurdling scream that would make your toes curl. "Get down on your knees now!" I said through my teeth. "Get on your knees, I say!"

Vladimir and Alexander turn to face me then, and their expressions are ones of delight and pleasure. They look at each other—their faces the exact copy of the other—and shake their heads. I can feel Jeannie's eyes on me, and I know she is annoyed that I've 'ruined' her good time. Tough, sweet cheeks, I think to myself as I stare down the Russian brothers.

"Look at what we have here, Alex," Vladimir says.

"Yes, a very pretty policewoman, Vlad," Alexander acknowledges.

"Leave her alone!" Hunter shouts.

"Stay away from her!" Fin yells.

"Shut up!" Jeannie hisses at my brothers.

"That gun is far too big for you," Alexander observes.

"Yes, we shall take it off your hands," Vladimir states, stepping forward with his brother, the identical, sardonic smiles on their faces.

"I'm warning you," I say through my teeth. "Hands up, right now!"

"Calm down, little lady," Alexander says. "We shall protect you."

"Stop, or I'll shoot!" I scream. "Don't come any closer!'

"She is so amusing, isn't she, Alex?" Vladimir asks his brother.

"Yes—perhaps she should be silenced," he says, drawing what appeared to be a knife from his pocket.

"I like the way you think, brother," says Vladimir, drawing the same shaped object from his pocket.

"Knife!" Lavinia screams, springing from the bushes, but I'm far too quick for her movements.

In less than five seconds, I've shot both brothers through the heart. Each falls to their knees, but one falls backwards while the second falls forwards. Jeannie lets out a scream and runs to them, while I lower my gun and stand there, numb. I am watching the scene unfold before me: Jeannie sobbing, my brothers holding one another, and Lavinia checking to see if either one of the now-victims have any form of pulse.

. . .

PRESENT DAY — Wednesday, April 3, 2047; 11:19 A.M.

"You know you're allowed a union delegate or an attorney to be present during this interview, don't you, Detective Beckett?"

Whoa, formality, I think to myself. "I understand, Captain Grayson," I reply, not wanting to give my grandfather the satisfaction. I lean forward then, so as the microphone can pick up everything I'm saying clearly. "I'm here of my own free will and I don't want or need a union delegate or an attorney. I have nothing to hide from IAB."

"Okay, we'll commence with the formal questioning, then," my grandfather says quietly, shuffling the paperwork. "Can you account for your whereabouts Friday evening, the twenty-ninth of March at around twelve-thirty a.m.?"

I nod at him. "Yes. I was at the hospital, taking a statement from a victim and then it had been a long shift. I drove my partner, Lavinia Hatfield, back to the squad room and then went home."

"When did you arrive home?"

"I arrived in Long Island about an hour and fifteen minutes later, a bit after two in the morning," I reply.

"And what did you do when you got home?"

"I made sure my twins were sleeping soundly, called my father to tell him goodnight, and went to bed myself."

"No one besides your children were in the house at the time?"

"Their new nanny was there, Kassandra Stone—she was up late working on a paper for school."

"Did you see her at home?"

I nodded. "I did. She was sitting at the dining room table, on her computer, so she must've known what time it was when I came in."

"Did either of you speak?"

I nod again. "Yes, before I went upstairs to kiss the twin's goodnight. I asked her what she was working on."

"Did you specify what it was?"

I force myself not to sigh at the patronizing tone. "She did. It was her dissertation for her child psychology degree about nature versus nurture and the pros and cons of each method of child rearing."

"And then you went upstairs to see to your twins?"

"Yes. I went into the nursery, kissed them both goodnight, and then I went into my bedroom down the hallway."

"Where you made a phone call to your father?"

I nodded at him. "Yes. I called to make sure Hunter was all right and then I took a shower."

"You do realize that you potentially incriminated yourself."

I blink. "Excuse me?" I demand.

"The very statement—'and then I took a shower'. It leads to reason that you wanted to wash off incriminating evidence."

Son of a bitch, I think to myself. "That's not what I was doing," I reply. "It had been a long day, and I wanted to take a shower before going to bed."

"Who's Hunter?"

I fight and succeed in not rolling my eyes. "Hunter Beckett. He's my youngest brother and the victim I mentioned earlier."

"Your younger brother was raped at a high school party?"

I nibbled at my inner lips. "Yes," I replied tightly.

"You and Lavinia Hatfield were the responding detectives on the scene of the crime itself?"

"Yes."

"You had him taken to Mercy Hospital?"

"I did."

"Where you forced him to have a rape kit?"

I felt better knowing that my hands were in my lap, as they now twitched, my nails curling back and biting my palms. "I didn't force Hunter," I replied. "I explained to him the benefits of having one and he came to the conclusion that having one was better than not having one. It was his choice."

"After you left Hunter in his hospital room, what happened?"

"I went straight to the nurse's station and told them that Hunter had authorized the rape kit," I replied. "As I left, I saw a nurse heading back to his room to have it taken care of."

"And then what happened?"

I pursed my lips. "I went to the parking garage, where my partner was waiting by my car," I reply.

"What was she doing?"

"She was speaking to her fiancé—I didn't get much of the conversation, she cut the call as I approached."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"She told me that I looked like hell."

"And what happened next?"

I find I am at a loss for words.

"If you wish to continue at a later time, that is all right."

I purse my lips again. "No. No, I'm fine."

"Okay. What was said next?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Detective Beckett, you're allowed to have a union delegate or an attorney present, yet you've refused that right. Do you have something to hide?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Then speak!" my grandfather orders me.

I raise my eyes to his. "What am I being accused of?" I ask him, and my voice is set, firm, and he knows he can no longer get away with speaking to me in such a rude manner.

"Murder," he replies.

"My partner and brothers will testify against that, and Jeannie McMann, if she has any self-respect left," I mutter. "I may have shot Alexander and Vladimir Sokolov last night, but I didn't do it with malicious intentions. I did it because it was proven that both were packing and I had to keep myself, my partner, my brothers, and Jeannie McMann safe from any potential harm."

"Did you like the Sokolov twins?"

"I didn't know them personally," I answer honestly. "Did I know who they were at the time of death? Of course; they wrestled on the same team my brother did. Did I particularly like their actions? Of course not. Would you like it if someone kidnapped your brothers?"

"I only have a half-sister, detective," my grandfather replies. "And besides, this is a matter that concerns you, not me."

I straighten a bit in my seat. "You will find that there are no less than four witnesses attesting to my innocence."

"They will be interviewed."

"Good," I reply. "Because I'm a damn good cop. I saved my brother's lives from two young men who inhibit the pathology of future serial killers. So, don't you sit there and tell me that you think I committed murder, or I did anything wrong. I kept my partner safe, and saved my brothers."

"And Jeannie McMann," he puts in.

"Who will go down for a misdemeanor without a prison sentence due to her given statement," I reply bitterly.

"You don't sound very happy to hear that."

"My opinion is what it is, Captain Grayson," I reply.

"Do you shoot to kill, Detective Beckett? Or is it Detective Stone now? Will you be marrying your girlfriend?"

That statement set my teeth on edge. "That's none of your business or concern, and it no bearing on this investigation."

"Do you shoot to kill, Detective Beckett?" he asked me again.

"If the situation calls for it."

"And when does it call for it?"

"Anytime there's immediate danger to police officers or potential victims," I reply, hoping that that is the end of it.

My grandfather looks down at his paperwork before asking, "Do you expect special treatment, now that you've outed yourself as a lesbian? Do you intend to take out a lawsuit against NYPD for discrimination if you're found guilty of the crime of murder?"

"I won't be, because I'm not," I say, getting to my feet. "But I'm done," I say, walking towards the door and exiting the room.

END OF SEASON ONE