"I know you think it's a good idea now that I'm your wife, but I find the whole thing just a little invasive," I say, giving Kassandra just a little side-eye from where I'm lying on our couch in our living room. "I mean, what with two of my cases going to trial, me finding out my dad isn't my dad, and Owen and Marcus running off to Tahoe to get married... There's just a lot going on right now," I say, bashing a throw pillow into an appropriate shape.

Kassandra nods, writing down my response like an adding machine. "And how do you feel about the very detailed fantasy you just laid out for me?" she wants to know, peeking up at me with those drop dead gorgeous eyes of hers which made me want to jump her bones right then and there.

"Really, I thought you said that certain things couldn't be discussed with the twins in the next room," I say. "Of course," I continue, getting to my feet and going towards her, "now that you mention it directly, Alexandrine's in school for another three hours..."

"Leia, I was referring to the fantasy you imagined about you, your mother, and Carisi, and you know it," Kassandra says, an amused look on her face. "But nice going—but maybe next time you should attempt to unbutton your blouse before you attempt your little seduction plan."

I stick my tongue out at her and flop back down onto the couch. "Okay—if you really think this'll help with our communication, go ahead. Ask me any questions you want."

"That's better," Kassandra tells me with a smile. "What made you consider a fantasy where you teamed up with Lincoln in order for him to divorce and shame your mother?"

I lower my eyes. "I guess I wanted her to feel the same way she made me feel," I reply, already feeling as if I'd been caught with one hand in the cookie jar.

"Uh-huh," my wife replies, eyeing me then. "And what do you think her smashing her hand in her office door had to do with anything?"

I shrug. "I don't know—emotional pain wasn't enough, I guess?" I say, shrugging at her. "Come on—like you've never considered something like that happening to someone you hate."

"You don't hate your mother," Kassandra tells me, writing down my thoughts in her hasty hand. "And I know I don't have to tell you that we're talking about you right now, Leia."

"Fine, fine," I grumble. "I guess it also has to do with the fact that I want to do something like that now and again—just because of my frustration, you know? I just don't want to get hurt in that way..."

Kassandra clicks her tongue then, looking over her various pieces of paper before looking back up at me. "I suggest you write your mother a letter."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Write her a letter," Kassandra says simply, "a completely uncensored letter, letting her know how she made you feel. This way, she can't interrupt your train of thought or disregard anything to your face."

"But what if she won't discuss it?" I ask. "Or what if she tears it up?"

"Make copies," my wife tells me with a smile. "And just because she doesn't discuss it with you right away doesn't mean she won't."

I hunch my shoulders and shake my head. "I don't know..."

"Well, you have until Monday to think about it," she tells me with a smile. "That's when you see her at Blake's trial."

"Oh, yeah," I mutter to myself. "That. I just hate that it looks like Duke Ross might take a deal and get out of the public humiliation of a trial..."

"All serials aren't alike, Leia—even I don't have to tell you that some of them may not get off on hearing the sordid details of their own crimes."

I nod at her. "You're right—I know you're right..."

. . .

EDYTHE'S POV

I stand in the office of the squad room that Monday afternoon, running my hands over the desk as I allow myself to contemplate everything in my life. The fact of it was, I knew then that I would never be Sonny's first choice—and besides, I wouldn't allow myself to be a consolation prize, nor a conflict of interest, due to my being his boss. As for my beloved Lincoln—despite everything, he'd loyally stuck by me; despite the betrayals, and the two children that weren't biologically linked to him, he had never made them feel like outsiders. He'd stuck by me through Fin, and now that he knew about Leia, he'd told me that, as long as I kept it professional with Sonny from then on, he wouldn't divorce me.

I got to my feet and crossed the office then, looking through the blinks at Sonny's desk—closest to my office as Lieutenant Carisi, second-in-command of SVU. He was on the phone then, and I knew it was either Amanda, or someone calling about a disturbing case. No matter what it was, I knew he would tell me shortly what it was truly about. I placed my hands on the window sill then, permitting my eyes to rove over to another desk, past Lavinia Hatfield's, and to my daughter's. Leia was typing up her final revised reports on Duke Ross.

It had hit her hard when we got the call that morning from DA Kirkwood, his annoyance creeping through the telephone, that he'd managed to secure a deal with Duke Ross's lawyer. Duke Ross would be serving twenty-five years for the initial charge of rape, with an additional six months per count. This meant that Duke would be serving around thirty-two years in prison, due to the fact that we only had him on a handful of additional charges. Pending good behavior, he would be up for parole in twenty-five; however, Kirkwood had managed to get Judge Thompson agree to additional charges if we ever found any.

It was the best we could hope for, I knew that, and yet I also knew how she was feeling, deep down inside. She was angry about this, and she was also angry at me, due to the aforementioned betrayal. I had not just betrayed Lincoln, I'd betrayed my daughter, and Sonny as well. Lincoln and Sonny had forgiven me, but not Leia, and while I understood why, I knew that the final secret had to be told, in order for her to gain at least a little closure. Turning around, I crossed back to my desk and picked up my phone, pressing the button to connect with her phone at her desk, and put the phone up to my ear.

"Yeah?" she asked, all-business.

I turned around to face her, so as to watch her facial expression. "Hey, listen, I have something we need to discuss on our own. Think you could come in here in about twenty minutes?"

"Sure, I'll be finished by then," Leia replies.

"Great," I say, forcing myself to keep the excitement from my voice, now that we were dialoguing. "See you then." I replace the phone at the exact moment she does, and turn to look at my desk. The nameplate reads CAPTAIN EDYTHE BECKETT, as it had done for years, and I knew then that I needed to honor my married name. As I thought back, back to the moment my dreams came crashing down for a second time—the first time being after I lost Baxter—I knew then, as I knew now, that changes had to be made...

It wasn't six weeks after Sonny had his discussion with me about being loyal to Amanda that I went in to get my teeth cleaned. I'd found a new doctor—Henrietta Beckett—and didn't even consider that she could've been related to Lincoln. She had the highest Yelp rating, and despite having four dollar signs, it didn't matter to me, as money had never been an objection. She was fun and nice, just a couple years my junior, and I noticed no pictures of men scattered around, nor did I see a wedding ring, despite her young age.

"No man in your life?" I asked her as she was just finishing up the consultation aspect of the appointment—new customers only.

Henrietta laughs at me then—a chorus of bells in my ears at the well-meaning, yet slightly invasive and personal question. "No. No, I don't date...men."

I raise my eyebrows then. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

Henrietta laughs again, signing her name to my forms. "No, no, it's really all right," she says. "I don't mind telling a select few of my clients. And you checked 'yes' on the agreement regarding the discriminatory policy question I have in place, so..."

I nod. "Of course—nothing wrong with that."

She looks over the paperwork one more time, before turning back to the new patient intake form and nods to herself. "Okay—you specified an allergy to penicillin, which is very common, so don't you worry, you'll be taken care of in that regard..." She checks off something else before scanning the forms in front of her again. "Okay, there's one last question—have you been sexually active in the last eight weeks?" she wants to know.

I raise my eyebrows. "Isn't that personal?"

Henrietta smiles at me. "Yes, but I am a doctor, and we have to cover all our bases just in case."

I let out a little sigh then. "Yeah—yeah, about six weeks ago."

"Okay," she says, opening her desk drawer and retrieving a pregnancy test. "Go into the bathroom and take this then."

"How do you know it wasn't with a woman?" I ask her.

Henrietta immediately moves to put the test back. "I'm sorry!" she says, flaming red immediately. "I shouldn't have assumed—"

I let out a little laugh then and extend my hand towards her. "Kidding—I was just kidding! Here, I'll take it."

Henrietta sighs then and shakes her head. "Careful there," she says, motioning me to her bathroom. "I would've asked you out."

I flash her a smile. "Well, I'm flattered," I tell her. "If I was gay, I'd likely accept in a heartbeat." I go into the bathroom then, taking my purse along with me and shutting and locking the door behind me. I pulled down my jeans and did my business, before placing the test on the side of the sink and cleaning myself up before I washed my hands. I waited for the result to come up, and when it said positive, I didn't know what to think.

Henrietta watched as I came out of the bathroom. "Well?"

"I'm...pregnant," I said, holding out the test.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, we'll have to postpone," she tells me. "Why don't you go and tell the father?"

"Easier said than done," I reply. I don't say anything, and merely nod at Henrietta when she tells me that we can re-schedule in the next few months, presumably at the end of my pregnancy.

"You're lucky," she says quietly as I turn to leave.

"What?" I ask, turning around and breaking my silence.

She gives me a wistful little smile. "I can't have children."

I raise my eyebrows. "I'm sorry to hear that," I reply, thinking that telling her that she didn't need a man to have children would come across as insensitive. "I hope you figure out everything you need to," I put in, before raising my hand to her and leaving her office.

I jump in a cab as soon as I get outside, finding that I am shaking as I give the driver the SVU squad address. I mechanically hand over my credit card at the end of the trip, before retrieving it at the end of the transaction and getting up the stairs to the squad room door. I flash my badge and am let upstairs immediately; I knew that they would think that I was providing information on a case or something, or I could very well have been going up to see Olivia. As I ask the elevator to take me to the correct floor, I roll my shoulders in an attempt to ease my nerves as I step outside the chrome doors.

I walk down the hall into the squad room, immediately seeing that Olivia and Amanda are missing, and relief fills me then. I spot Sonny sitting at his desk and as I step inside, he promptly cuts the call he is taken and approaches me. "Where are Olivia and Amanda?" I manage to get out.

"Caught a case across town," he replies.

"And Fin?" I ask.

"Day off—are you okay?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No. No, I'm not okay," I reply, and automatically hate how pathetic I sound with my voice shaking. "Can we talk, please?"

Sonny purses his lips, but nevertheless puts an arm around me and guides me into an interrogation room. "Want something to drink?"

I shake my head, sinking into a chair—thankfully, it is the nicer of the two interrogation rooms; I mean, it's not like I committed a crime here, other than sleeping with another woman's husband... "No. Thank you."

"How can I help you?" Sonny asks me.

I raise my face to his, feeling the hot tears threatening to spill over and down my face as I force myself to make eye contact with him.

"Oh, no," Sonny says immediately, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "You're not...?"

I nod shakily, running my hands over my legs in discomfort. "I just found out today—I had to get a tooth removed, and the dentist said that I had to take a test just to make sure..."

"How late were...?" he asks.

"Six weeks or so," I tell him quietly.

"How do you know it's mine?" he demands then, as any guy would in a similar situation, hoping to be off the hook.

I give him a look like he's got a dozen heads. "What the hell is the matter with you, Sonny?!" I demand then, hurt in my voice.

"Right, right—sorry," he says, immediately covering his eyes.

"Look," I say, getting to my feet, "I don't want anything."

Sonny regards me then in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I. Don't. Want. Anything," I say, deliberately chopping my words so as he will know exactly what I'm saying. "I'm going to make an appointment by the end of the week for a consultation, and then hopefully by the end of the month," I go on, making my way towards the door, "we won't have to worry about this kind of thing going further—"

"No!" Sonny screams then, blocking my way from the door. Standing before me, I catch a glimpse of the man I fell in love with. His forcefulness in following me had been such a turn-on, and yet now...

"Get out of my way, Sonny," I say, this time through my teeth.

"I won't let you!" he replies, in the same tone of voice. "I'm Catholic! I can't let you do this—I won't!"

"It's not your decision," I say in a clipped tone. "And besides—you're married. I refuse to raise this baby alone," I tell him. "I'm too young, and it wouldn't be right to ask you to pick—me or Amanda—"

"Ask me," he says, desperation in his voice.

At once, my mouth falls open. "What?" I whisper.

"Ask me to pick between you and Amanda," he declares.

I shake my head. "It doesn't work that way," I tell him, knowing we are heading into dangerous territory.

"Ask me, Edythe," he says softly, seductively.

My eyes fill with tears. "I can't..."

"Do you love me?" he asks me then.

I feel my voice choke in my throat on a sob. "Yes," I whisper then, feeling myself trembling then at my declaration. "I love you."

Sonny pulls me to him then, kissing my forehead then and holding me close. "We'll figure it out together," he tells me then.

I shake my head then. "I can't have you breaking up your family—"

"You are my family now," Sonny declares then, determination in his voice. "I'm going to leave Amanda—"

"Sonny!" I shout then. "No!"

He smiles down at me. "I can't let you go again, Edythe," he whispers to me, holding me securely around my waist.

"We can't..." I whisper.

Sonny leans down and kisses me. "I love you..."

"I love you, too," I whisper to him, weak in his arms.

"Marry me," he says softly.

"Sonny..."

"Will you marry me, Edythe Grayson?" he asks, holding me close.

I feel the tears cascading down my cheeks then, hardly believing what I was hearing, but so addicted to it that I couldn't stop hearing it. "What did you say?" I whisper, disbelief flooding my tone.

A smile plays at his mouth then—he knows that I heard him, yet knows that he needs to ask again. "Marry me, Edythe," Sonny says.

"I will," I whisper back.

. . .

MAGGIE'S POV

As my biological mother, Olivia Benson and I had had our best of times and our worst of times, and yet when I'd asked her who my father was, things took quite a turn, and not necessarily in the best way. I was never known for being so impulsive, but when I figured out that Olivia wasn't just going to drop a name into the little folder of my life, I knew I had to take drastic action...

I left Olivia's later that evening, shaken, still not knowing what I was supposed to do in the grand scheme of things. I got into my car, navigating myself carefully onto the highway, not wanting a repeat of the last time I'd been driving while antsy in some way, shape or form. Other than my revelation to Olivia, she'd told me that Nick was leaving SVU—not due to his injuries, but because his two children were now in San Francisco, and he wanted to be involved in their lives. On the other foot, I'd asked Olivia about my father, but she refused to answer me, and, knowing that I wouldn't get the answer then—or for a while—I almost blew up. However, I decided to save face and keep calm, knowing that, somehow, I'd be able to get the information eventually.

I decided that to live with Olivia knowing that she was my birth mother, I was therefore allowed to shake things up a bit. I plug in an address to my GPS system and make my way to my destination, pulling off the freeway in good time and making my way there. The place closed at eight, so I had plenty of time, I figured as I walked in and gave my name to the receptionist.

"My name is Maggie Grayson," I say, putting out my hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Grayson," she says, taking note of my ring. "I'm Fern. Welcome to Fur de Leash. What can we do for you today?"

"I'm here to adopt a dog," I reply.

"How wonderful," Fern says. "We'll just bring a consultant to the front here and get you all squared away."

"Thank you very much," I reply.

"You can just have a seat right over there and peruse the pet adoption magazines and figure out what you might want," she says, picking up her desk phone and typing in a few numbers. "Hey, it's Fern here. We have a Maggie Grayson up front who is interested in adopting with us today. Mm-hmm, thank you. I will let her know." She promptly hangs up and looks me. "Someone should be right with you, Mrs. Grayson," Fern tells me.

"Thank you," I reply.

A fashionably-dressed woman in her thirties comes out from the back soon thereafter, a bright smile on her face. "Roberta Feldman," she says, putting out her perfectly-manicured hand. "I own the establishment."

"Maggie Grayson," I say, taking her outstretched hand.

"Great to meet you," she says, and we shake hands. "If you follow me back to my office, we'll have a brief consultation where you'll tell me about your home, your family, your job, things like that. And then you tell me what breeds you may be interested in, if you know that yet."

"That sounds good, Ms. Feldman," I reply.

"Roberta, please," she says.

"Maggie," I tell her.

"All right, Maggie. If you'll just follow me," she says, turning around, her stiletto heels clicking on the Vivero flooring.

"Lovely place you have here," I tell her as we walk down the hallway—the walls were an attractive pale green with white wood paneling. "It all looks vaguely Victorian—did you design it?"

"Oh, you flatter me, Maggie," Roberta chuckles. "My wife actually is my designer and the CEO of Fiona's Furnishings."

"They had that spread in Better Homes & Gardens last month—isn't that right?" I ask her as we turn, at the end of the hall, to her office suite.

"Yes, we're quite proud," Roberta says with an indulgent smile, sitting down at her desk and extending her hand for me to sit. "Could I get you anything cool to drink, Maggie?" she asks, gesturing to her mini fridge behind her desk.

"A bottle of water would be great, thank you," I reply.

"Spring or sparkling?" she asks, opening the fridge.

"Spring," I reply.

"No problem," Maggie says, taking out a spring water for me and a lemonade for herself. "Now," she says, handing over my water and opening her notebook, where I see there is a questionnaire. "Tell me a little about yourself. Where do you currently live?'

"I live in a development community full of classic mansions not far from here," I tell her. "Our estate's name is The Winds Manor."

"I know the property," Roberta tells me, flashing me a smile. "They hiked the asking price last time I checked. You and your husband must be doing very well for yourselves to have such a nice home."

"We both work in law enforcement," I reply.

"What is your job title?" she asks.

"Captain of the Manhattan Homicide Unit," I reply.

"Impressive. And your husband?"

"He's a captain with Internal Affairs," I say steadily.

"Both high-ranking," Roberta says. "Do you have children?"

"We recently had our fourth," I reply, finding myself prideful in discussing my children. "We began fostering our first daughter, Edythe, shortly before we were married and adopted her soon thereafter," I reply. "She's seventeen now—will be eighteen next winter. Then there were our twins, Olivia and Donald, and they're five. And then our last one, Mason, is two."

"Okay," Roberta continues, writing down the information. "And do you have any animals in the house currently?"

"No," I reply. "We've always been animal lovers but we could never find the right opportunity to have a dog."

"And what makes you think that now is the right opportunity?"

I smile at her. "It's just time," I reply.

She nods. "All right. Well, we can go over a few breeds that could considerably work for you..."

"Actually, Roberta," I say, "not that I don't trust you and your instincts, but I kind of already had a breed in mind..."

She nods. "Of course," she replies. "What is it?"

"A Samoyed," I reply.

"They're excellent with children, if raised correctly," Roberta says. "I was going to suggest that breed myself. My sister had a few in her lifetime—they're excellent dogs, really."

"That's great," I reply. "Do you have any at the moment?"

"We do. One of our mama dogs just had a litter about ten weeks ago. Eight weeks, as I'm sure you know, if the minimum age for adoption."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Good. Well, if you'd like to follow me back to their kennel, we can maybe find what you're looking for."

"Wonderful," I reply.

I get to my feet and follow Roberta out of her office and down another hallway, whereupon we make a turn at the sign on the wall which reads DOG KENNELS . I watch as Roberta unlocks a door efficiently, and we head down a lane of chain-linked cubicles full of dogs and puppies. We get to the Samoyed kennel and I feel myself grinning as Roberta unlocks the gate and steps inside, motioning for me to follow her in.

"This is Tiffany, the mother," Roberta says, gesturing to the largest dog, who is at work cleaning some of her puppies. "As you can see, Tiffany had a litter of six; I'll tell you right away that that's on the larger side. The ratio of boys to girls is three to three, which is surprisingly equal, as I'm sure you understand."

"Basic math," I joke, and Roberta laughs.

"Those two over there," Roberta continues, "are the sister-twins—that's what we call them, anyway. They're always together, and we're thinking that we'll have to sell them as a pair."

I step forward then, making kissing noises, bending down and extending my hand as I approach them. The pair of dogs lift their heads before one bounds for me, and I feel my heart skip a beat as the second dog is more cautious. However, they both come to me, and nuzzle my hands and kiss my fingers. I feel myself chuckling ever so slightly, amused by their antics.

"Two will run about a thousand dollars," Roberta tells me.

"That's not so bad," I reply. "Have they been spayed?"

"Yes, all the puppies are spayed and neutered when they hit eight weeks," Roberta replies easily. "They've also been given their six to eight week and ten to twelve week shots. They will need a first round of rabies vaccinations anywhere from two weeks to three months from now, plus a second round of DHPP vaccination in four to six weeks."

"And the housebroken situation?" I ask.

"They're completely housebroken," Roberta assures me.

"And their diet?"

"No bones—it could hurt their intestines," she says, and I notice then that she pronounces it 'in-test-tine," which annoys me for some reason. "They will favor meat juices or bacon fat in the beginning—it bulks them up, but you must never allow them to get overweight, it's terribly bad for them. "Chicken and lamb and rice are better main meals for them, due to them being less at risk for their contribution of food allergies."

"Do you sell food here?"

"Yes," Roberta replies. "We have our own brand of dog food—which we will deliver every two weeks to your house, in bags of different weights, depending on your breed and available storage space. Our brand is called Cosmopawliton, and it ensures an organic, grain-free diet which animals love. Our dry food flavors consist of Balmy Beef, Luscious Lamb, Gratifying Goat, Choice Chicken, and Piquant Pork. However, our wet food only comes in beef, lamb, and chicken. We had a bison flavor for a while, but it didn't sell very well."

I nod. "What sizes do they come in?"

"Five pound bags, ten pound, twenty pound, and fifty pound," Roberta says easily and efficiently.

"And do you sell shampoo products here?" I ask.

"Yes. Depending on coat, of course. Fern could help you with that."

"All right... And collars?"

"Yes, we have a pretty good selection of those—leather, suede, silk... Some of ours even have rhinestones on them. We also do our licensing on sight, as well as chipping the dogs."

I nod. "Okay. I'll take these two here, then—the sister-twins," I joke. "I suppose there's some paperwork."

"Yes," Roberta says, bending down and picking up one of the dogs. "If you just want to grab the other one, you can follow me out and we'll get them situated in the 'Adoption Room'."

"What's that?" I ask, scooping up the other pup and walking out of there, making sure to lock the gate behind me.

"It's where we keep the dogs getting adopted."

I follow Roberta out of the kennel room and we go down another hallway, closer to her office, which reads ADOPTION ROOM . Inside are plenty of puppy pads, as well as kibble, water, and many toys. Roberta sets the first puppy down and I do so to the second, whereupon we leave them alone and make our way to her office at the end of the hallway. I put down my information on the packet of paperwork that Roberta has given me, while Roberta radios an associate to fetch the puppies to microchip them and get their licenses squared away.

After I'm finished with the paperwork, I go to the front of the establishment, where Fern is waiting for me and brings me over to the other side of the reception area, which has been dubbed WAGS TO RICHES , and a section of it is called DOGGIE DO'S , presumably reserved for dog accessories and necessities. I select the foamy-looking shampoo that Fern recommends and pick out leashes and collars as well. I then select some food bowls—two each—and one water bowl. Fern then brings me over to the kennel section, but I shake my head, telling her that I won't be crating them, but I do pick out a large dog bed for the living room, knowing full well that Edythe will probably want one to sleep with, while Hunter will have to get used to the idea of the other sleeping with us. I also buy harnesses to install in my car to ensure their safety.

The dogs are brought out to me—freshly washed—and I pay for everything, and I find myself smiling as I put on their collars and secure their leashes. I walk outside with them, one bag slung over my arm, and bring them to the car with me, with Fern closely behind. She installs the harnesses into my back seat for me and wishes me well as I get the dogs secured in the back of the car. I then put the bag of new things for them in the passenger seat, along with a fifty-pound bag of food for the both of them.

The freeway drive is not so lonely, and I send a text to Edythe, letting her know that I am on my way home. I tell her that I have a surprise for her and not to tell her father, the twins, or Mason, but to come directly outside to meet me. I am surprised that she is waiting for me in the late afternoon sunlight as I pull up, and I exit my vehicle quickly after parking. I smile at my daughter and duck into the back, retrieving the more excited of the two puppies and hand her over to my oldest child.

"M-om!" Edythe squeals, taking the puppy immediately. "For me?!"

I nod. "All for you," I reply, taking the sister pup out of the back.

"Wait... You got a dog, too?!"

I laugh. "Well, yes. And besides, these two love each other—it would have been cruel to separate them."

"Do they have names?" she asks as the puppy snuggles into her arms.

"No," I reply. "You can name her yourself."

"It's a girl?"

I laugh. "Yes, and this is her sister."

"What's going on down here?" Hunter asks, walking around the side of the house where he was presumably reading. "Maggie. What's that?"

"These are the new members of the Grayson family," I reply. "That's... Someone, I suppose, and this is...Seraphina," I say, feeling stupid at the first name popping into my head. "What are you calling yours, honey?"

"Arabella," Edythe replies. "It sounds like some maiden somewhere..."

I laugh. "It certainly does," I reply, walking with her into the house, while Hunter shakes his head—I know he'll warm to the idea eventually.

Not the best idea—bringing two dogs into the family without discussing it with Hunter, but he did warm up to the idea, thankfully. Olivia's and my relationship wasn't exactly what you would call normal, but we definitely had our mother and daughter moments now and again. It also helped that we were in the same line of work so as we could help each other on cases.

When a string of rape-homicides happened in our borough in the early weeks of 2019, Olivia immediately wanted Homicide in on it, and we showed up there together. After investigating for over an hour at the site, Olivia suggested that we return to the SVU squad to re-group. I agreed and we returned together, with Amanda holding down the fort at the site itself.

"Carisi will know how to handle all this," Olivia assures me. "I hear he's been having drinks with Edythe..."

"She assures me it's all-business," I tell Olivia quickly. "She wants to go for detective ultimately and he said he'd give her pointers."

"Okay," Olivia says quietly, mulling it over as we get closer to the SVU squad building itself. "I know she knows that he's married to Amanda. I don't suppose you've given her the 'hands-off the married man' lecture..."

"After what happened with Baxter last year," I say, shaking my head, "I think that ship has sailed."

"If you're sure..."

"Hey, I know my daughter," I put in, not wanting to tell Olivia to tell me how to raise my kid.

"I get it," Olivia says, nodding and pulling into the parking lot.

We head inside together, not even bothering to show off our badges—people know who we are, although the familial relationship remains a mystery. We get into the elevator and reach the squad room, saying pleasantries to the other officers and such on duty, before stepping into Olivia's office. I look around—it hadn't changed much since Don had left, and I found myself missing him to no end.

"Wonder where Carisi is," I say aloud.

Olivia is staring into the interrogation room then, mouth agape, and when I follow her line of sight, my mouth falls open then. "Maggie..."

"...oh, god," I say quietly. Immediately, turning into an invasive parent, I dart across Olivia's office before she can stop me and turn on the sound of the interrogation room before us.

"Get out of my way, Sonny," Edythe says, speaking through her teeth.

"I won't let you!" Sonny replies, angrily. "I'm Catholic! I can't let you do this—I won't!"

"Edythe...Sonny...no..." I whisper.

"It's not your decision," Edythe says in a clipped tone. "And besides—you're married. I refuse to raise this baby alone," she tells him. "I'm too young, and it wouldn't be right to ask you to pick—me or Amanda—"

"Ask me," Sonny says, desperation in his voice.

At once, Edythe's mouth falls open. "What?" she whispers.

"Ask me to pick between you and Amanda," Sonny declares.

Edythe shakes her head. "It doesn't work that way," she tells him.

"Ask me, Edythe," Sonny says softly, seductively, and it turns my stomach to see him talking to my daughter like that.

Edythe's eyes fill with tears. "I can't..."

"Do you love me?" he asks her then.

Edythe's voice chokes in her throat on a sob. "Yes," she whispers then, and I see then that she is trembling. "I love you."

Sonny pulls Edythe to him then, kissing her forehead then and holding her close, unwilling to let her go. "We'll figure it out together," he tells her then.

Edythe shakes her head then. "I can't have you breaking up your family—"

"You are my family now," Sonny declares then, determination in his voice. "I'm going to leave Amanda—"

"Sonny!" Edythe shouts at him. "No!"

Sonny smiles down at her. "I can't let you go again, Edythe," he whispers to her, holding her securely around her waist.

"We can't..." Edythe whispers.

Sonny leans down and kisses her. "I love you..."

"I love you, too," she whispers to him.

"Marry me," he says softly.

"Sonny..."

"Will you marry me, Edythe Grayson?" he asks, holding her close.

"What did you say?" she whispers, disbelief flooding her tone.

A smile plays at his mouth then—he knows that she heard him, yet knows that he needs to ask again. "Marry me, Edythe," Sonny says.

"I will," Edythe whispers back.

I turn to Olivia then, feeling the fear on my face and in my voice. "What should we do here?" I ask her. "That's my daughter..."

"...and my detective," she says quietly, mulling it over for a moment. "You talk to her, I'll talk to him."

"Now or later?" I ask, gripping the window sill in front of me, remembering that Elliot once stood here with Don Cragen, in this exact spot, as I spoke to George Huang about my upcoming life with Hunter.

Olivia moves her dark gaze to meet mine. "No time like the present," she says diplomatically.

. . .

LEIA' POV

"So, that's how Grandma Maggie and Olivia found out?" I ask quietly, my hands in fists upon my knees.

"That's how," my mother confirms. "That's all of it."

"Why didn't you tell me all of this before...?"

She sighs. "Sometimes we just don't want to give away all the information so quickly," she replies.

I nod then, still processing. "And after Grandma Maggie talked to you?" I ask her then. "What happened?"

"She yelled at me," my mother admitted.

"Yelled at you?" I demand.

"Yes. After what happened with Baxter—which you know about—she thought I got the whole married men thing out of my system..."

"Apparently not," I say, before I can stop myself.

My mother smiles ruefully. "Guess I deserve that one," she says quietly.

"And after she yelled?" I want to know.

She sighs. "Well, she told me to lie to Sonny," she continues, "just like I lied to Lincoln and to you, for years."

"Lie to him?" I ask. "How?"

"Your grandmother and Olivia paid for me to leave on a vacation," she says. "With Texas out of the question, they said I should get as far away as possible without leaving the country..."

"Where did you go?" I ask.

"California," my mother replies. "I had you in California."

"And what lie did you tell Sonny?"

"The obvious—that I'd lost the baby and had gone 'soul-searching' to cleanse myself of wrong-doing," she replied.

"And Henrietta?"

"I remembered what she said—about not being able to have children. I told her about my situation and she agreed to adopt you at birth. I couldn't look at you," she admitted then, with a sad smile. "I knew if I did, I'd change my mind, and I didn't want to disappoint Henrietta."

"But you were engaged to Sonny," I say, trying to back-track. "Why didn't you just marry him and have me?"

"Because I didn't want to be the direct cause of his marriage ending," my mother replied softly. "It soon became apparent that I was, and that I'll be the only woman he ever wants."

"And Dad?" I ask, softly. "What about Dad?"

"Your father is the love of my life," she replies.

I don't ask her which father she means—I know that it will soon become evident which one she's talking about. "Do you have news on Blake's trial?" I ask then, wanting to get back to work topics.

"No news—just that we're called there tomorrow at nine," she tells me. "And, listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" I ask.

She gives me a smile. "I haven't told your father yet, but I've decided to retire at the end of December."

"Retire?!" I cry out. "No! SVU needs you!"

She smiles. "Well, I think it's time to pass the baton."

"To Sonny?" I guess.

She shakes her head. "No. I've spoken to IAB—mainly your grandfather—and they're all in agreement."

"About getting some new blood in here?"

"Something like that," she replies, getting to her feet and offering me her hand. "I know you've only just made detective a year ago, but I put in a good word for you to take the Sergeant's Exam."

"Sergeant?" I cry out, getting shakily to my feet.

"Your test is at the end of November," my mother tells me patiently. "If you pass, then I'll retire and give SVU to you."

"Me?!" I demand, hardly knowing what to say.

"Sleep on it," my mother says, picking up my hand and shaking it. "But personally, I think Sergeant Leia Stone sounds pretty good."

. . .

"They'll be calling us back in at any minute, I just wanted to give you a quick call first," I say to Kassandra on the phone, relieved that she answered. "Sorry, it's been a long six weeks..."

"I'm always honored to hear from my wife," she replies.

"Listen, I've given it a lot of thought, and if you want to foster Angel, I think it's a wonderful idea," I tell her.

Kassandra gives a little sigh on the other end of the phone. "I have another thing to discuss with you—something I've done, and probably should have said something about..."

"Tell me quickly," I tell her.

"Well, you know how I started looking into sperm banks?" she asks.

"Of course I know," I reply. "I know you want a biological child—I don't fault or blame you for it."

"Well, listen," she says, "about eight weeks ago, I went in and got inseminated. I know I should have said something, but you were working double shifts with the Duke Ross case and Blake's..."

"I'm literally shaking right now," I say quietly into the phone. "Are you calling to tell me that you're...?"

"Yes," Kassandra says on the other end. "Check your phone."

"Check my...?" I ask, pulling it away from my face and looking down at it. I have a media message from Kassandra, which turns out to be a picture. Accessing it, I manage to enlarge it quickly, and see that she's circled something and written a little message onto the photo. "Kassandra...?" I whisper, reading the words, 'It's a Boy!' which stare back at me.

"We're going to have a son," she says.

"A son? Our son?" I say quietly.

"Yes, our son," she tells me. "I'm going to call the fostering agency about Angel," she says then. "Tell me how court goes."

"I love you," I say to her. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she says. "See you tonight."

"Bye," I say, turning around to see my mother coming towards me. "Well?" I want to know.

She puts an arm around me. "Marlowe wouldn't take the plea, and it doesn't look good for him," she replies.

"And so?" I ask.

"Jury's back—I guess they made up their minds."

I nod. "Let's get in there," I say.

We make our way in, sitting just behind DA Kirkwood, who gives us a look full of unknowing that it makes me sit upon the edge of my seat. Grandma Maggie slips in with a smile, sitting on my mother's side, while Sonny sits behind us. Blake quickly returns to the courtroom then, and moves in my row to sit beside me. The jury files in next, sweeping into their little box, their faces doing their best to remain neutral as Judge Thompson regards them with a serious face. The jury foreman gets to their feet then, handing off the verdict on a piece of paper, which the bailiff takes and presents to the judge. Judge Thompson regards it then briefly, before handing it back over to the bailiff, who returns it to the jury foreman, who stands at attention, waiting.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Thompson asks.

"We have, Your Honor," the foreman replies, and Blake clasps my hands in a moment of fear.

"On the charge of rape in the first degree, how do you find?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," the foreman says.

"On the charge of assault in the first degree, how do you find?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," the foreman says.

"On the charge of bribery in the first degree, how do you find?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," the foreman says.

"Noted," Judge Thompson says, turning to Blake. "I am so sorry you had to go through this, and we will ensure that a proper punishment is brought forth." She turns then to Marlowe, sitting there, defiant until the end. "Bailiff, please remand the defendant, Marlowe Fairbanks, back to Rikers, where he will remain until his sentencing."

"Yes, Your Honor," a bailiff replies, stepping forward.

Marlowe moves towards the bailiff then, but nobody thought to handcuff him. He moves across the table, with just enough effort for those around him to believe that he believes he deserves this treatment. Just before he is moved from the courtroom, he makes a grab for the bailiff's weapon, and holds it aloft.

"Down!" I scream, everyone around me falls downward before the shot is fired off, resounding around the courtroom.

Marlowe takes out the bailiffs, before running out of there, gun aloft. Despite everyone protesting around me, I get to my feet and go after him, my heart beating in my ears as I run out the side door. I throw them open then, seeing him running towards a back exit, making a beeline for freedom.

"Marlowe!" I shout, my gun out.

He immediately stops then, turning around. "You don't have the guts to shoot me, a dyke like you!" he yells.

"Don't mess with me—I'll blow your head off!" I scream at him. "Get down on your knees and drop the gun, Marlowe!"

"No, I won't!" he screams. "That jury shouldn't have found me guilty!"

"You are guilty, Marlowe!" I shout at him. "Now, put the gun down on the ground, and get on your knees!"

"Never!" he yells, pointing the gun directly at me. "Say goodbye!"

Suddenly, the doors crash open behind me then, and Sonny stands there. "Drop the weapon!" he yells at him.

Marlowe, scared at the sudden noise, grips too tightly on the gun, which almost immediately goes off. I move to stop the bullet, but feel a pair of strong hands on my back then, and I'm thrown against the wall, a second shot going off, followed by a third. I feel my head pounding as I lift it, a ringing in my ears as I look around me. Looking up, I see Marlowe with a direct hit to the chest, and he's either out cold or dead. I turn around then, and see Sonny is collapsed behind me.

"Sonny!" I yell aloud then, my voice ripping from my throat as I crawl towards him. Finally, I get to my feet, but immediately go down again with a scream, finding that a bullet is now imbedded in my leg. I manage to crawl the rest of the way to him, and I see that he's still alive. "Come on—it's okay," I say, putting pressure on his chest. "It's all going to be okay..." I whisper, my hands covered in his blood.

"You're...hurt," he whispers.

I shake my head. "I'm fine," I whisper, ignoring the pool of blood that I'm now kneeling in. "I'll be fine..."

He smiles up at me. "You're so like your mother..."

I shake my head. "Don't think about it—you're going to be okay," I assure him, and continue to put pressure on his open chest. "You'll be fine..."

He shakes his head. "This is it for me..."

I shake my head, finding the tears springing to my eyes. "No, no! You can't go yet!" I shout. "Sonny, don't!"

He pats my hand. "I wish things would've turned out differently," he says quietly to me. "All the pain I've caused you..."

"Forget it," I say immediately. "Don't think about it..."

"I have to beg your forgiveness..."

"I forgive you," I say immediately, wishing that I wasn't crying. "Don't beg me for anything—I forgive you. All is forgiven."

Sonny smiles up at me then. "The nose was mine," he says quietly. "And the gold highlights in your hair—mine... I should've guessed a long time ago," he says, and coughs ever so slightly. "I'm sorry for failing you in every way..."

"You didn't fail me," I tell him softly. "You didn't. I promise." I hesitate for a moment then, wanting to say more. "I'm going to need you alive, because when Mom retires at the end of the year, I'll need to go to you for advice..."

He smiles. "You don't need me—you're all grown up."

"I'll always need my father," I say, the words just sounding right.

He nods, raising his hand—stained with blood—and puts it upon my head. "I'll always be right here," he says.

"No..." I whisper, "...don't."

"The Lord is calling me to him," he says.

"Dad...please," I say, desperation in my voice.

"It's time," he whispers with a saint-like smile. "I can't stop it."

"Please..." I whisper.

"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I accept from Your hands whatever kind of death it may please You to send me this day with all its pains, penalties and sorrows; in reparation for all of my sins, for the souls in Purgatory, for all those who will die today and for Your greater glory..." He whispers, his eyes beginning to close, and his cheeks going slack as his last breath leaves him.

Raising my blood-stained hand, I cross myself, such a thing so foreign to me, but knowing that that's what he would have wanted. "Amen," I whisper.

The doors crash open then, and I raise my eyes to my mother's, whose own fill with tears as she lets out a scream of anguish. Grandma Maggie pulls her out of there then, as I shakily get to my feet. I see Lavinia lurking behind, and I turn around to check and see if Marlowe is alive—he is. I tell her to call a bus to fix him up before shipping him off to Rikers, and she agrees to do so. Shakily, I leave the back hallway, stained with blood, and make my way towards the ladies' room, where I wash my hands as best I can. Next, I head out of the court building, whereupon I'm besieged by reporters. I ignore them all, in my numb state, and walk slowly down the street, when my phone ringing catches me off guard. I get it out of my pocket, my hands shaking.

"Detective Stone," I say into it.

"This is the testing agency," says a woman on the other end. "I'm calling to congratulate you—you made sergeant."

I cannot even smile at my victory. "Thank you," I reply.

"Have a good day," the woman says.

"You too," I say, hanging up.

I look down at myself then, covered in blood, and know then that this is part of the territory. I walk into my parking lot and get into my car, making my way across town to the squad room. It is empty, and I know then that everyone will have immediately got word of Sonny's—my father's—death, and I trudge through the room, now resembling an empty shell without the worker bees milling about. I open my mother's office then, crossing the threshold and walking up to her desk slowly, and I feel as if I am an unworthy trespasser. I move around her desk and sit in the seat, running my hands across the varying surfaces.

I hear footsteps then, and, looking up, see a man about Olivia's age stepping into the squad room. Getting to my feet, I hope he will not be turned off by the sight of blood, and move to pull my blazer shut. "Can I help you?"

He shakes his head. "No. Just came by to check the place out."

"You worked here?" I ask.

He turns to look at me and smiles. "Long time ago, yeah." He looks me over then and cocks his head to one side. "Who are you?"

"Sergeant Leia Stone," I reply. "My mother is Captain Beckett."

"That explains it," he tells me with a smile. He looks over the place then, almost as if he has discovered an old friend. "That was my desk, right there," he tells me, nodding to one by the door. "Of course, same location, different desk..."

"Who are you?" I ask.

He turns and looks at me, his silver eyes piercing as he regards my curiosity with a mild form of amusement. "I was Detective Elliot Stabler," he replies. "But now, people just call me Elliot."

I find myself giving him a smile then. "Ah. We meet at last."

"You've heard of me?"

"Who hasn't heard of you?" I ask him. "My grandmother's first love? My great-grandmother's best friend and former partner?" I cross my arms then and regard him for a moment. "Who couldn't know who you are?"

"You taking over here?" he asks.

"In January," I reply.

"What happened there?" he asks, nodding to the blood on my blouse.

"Shooting after a verdict," I say shortly.

"Anyone down?" he asks, and, for the first time, regards my leg. "You should probably get that looked at..."

I shrug. "Can't feel a thing."

He nods. "Still..."

"It takes two to know a secret," I say.

Elliot cocks his head to one side. "Or to tango..."

I give him a smile, the nonsensical way our conversation has turned filling me with amusement. "You're right," I reply. "But people in our line of work do know a thing or two..."

He smiles back. "At least I did when I was here..."

"...and perhaps, one day, so will I," I reply.

THE END