Work Text:
“Connie?” Mike put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Connie, we’re here.”
She barely stirred so Mike gently shook her. She turned, slowly opening her eyes.
“Hmm?”
“We’re here.” He said.
“I fell asleep? Why did you let me fall asleep?” she asked.
“What do you mean? You’ve been tired, it was a car trip; it’s not a big deal, Connie.”
“The passenger isn’t supposed to fall asleep on a road trip.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, I mean it. C'mon, I’ll get the bags.”
Connie nodded as Mike got out of the rental car. She stretched some, trying to get her bearings. It was a chilly August night and they were working a case. The case took them all the way to Providence, Rhode Island. It was about a four hour trip from Manhattan but rain blanketed I-95 into New England and added nearly another hour to their trip.
They couldn’t wait though, time was always precious and they needed to get there and get the information they sought. Connie really hoped they could get it in 48 hours but she wasn’t sure. Mike tapping on the window startled her. He opened the car door as she was shaking it off.
“I don’t know what's wrong with me.” She said, reaching out for her shoulder bag but Mike wasn’t giving it up.
“Its OK, you'll get a good night’s sleep tonight. Hopefully things will be clearer in the morning.”
They went into the Holiday Inn Express to check in. The clerk gave Mike two room keys and they got on the elevator to the fourth floor. He looked at Connie and she looked green around the gills. She looked tired and a little woozy. They had been working this case hard.
College junior Kimberly Gardner was accused of brutally killing her boyfriend, Jason Kyle. Kyle was no boy scout and was Kimberly was using a battered woman defense. She claimed to have been abused as a child growing up in Providence, and subject to seeing her mother repeatedly beaten. Mike and Connie were there to find out if there was any validity to her claim. They both hated this case, particularly Connie, who felt sick at calling an allegedly battered woman a liar.
“I'm hungry.” Connie said as they walked into the hotel room. “I know it’s late but do you think we could get room service.”
“Probably. Well at least we know you don’t have the flu or something; you wouldn’t have an appetite.” Mike went to put his hand on Connie’s forehead but she ducked away. “Hey, c'mon, let me check your head.”
“Mike, I'm OK.”
“I’d feel better if I knew for myself.” He replied.
Connie shook her head, saying she wanted to take a warm shower. Mike decided not to push. He knew the case was tough on her, made her think about her sister, so he would just leave it alone. She wanted room service so he would order; that’s what he’d do to help.
“Just let me use the bathroom first and then it’s all yours.”
“Sure.”
When Mike disappeared behind the door, Connie went over to the bed and opened her bag. There was only one bed in the room. She didn’t know if he’d done that on purpose or it was a coincidence. In her bag she grabbed her pajamas and toiletry case. She opened the little bag and checked to make sure everything she needed was in there. Sighing, Connie knew the time had come. She would do this, put it behind her, and put her mind at ease.
“Its all yours.” Mike said, coming out of the bathroom. “Hey Connie? Connie?”
“Hmm?” She looked at him, her eyes seemingly glazed over in thought.
“The bathroom is yours. I’ll get you that food now.”
“Thanks.” She got up and walked past him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah.”
Mike knew something was wrong. He didn’t know what but his curiosity was getting the better of him. Pushing Connie into talking to him wasn’t going to work. He didn’t like the idea of doing it and she never responded well to that kind of behavior. Still, he was becoming concerned.
It had started with this case, which wasn’t easy for anyone involved. There was a tough case before this one, and a tough one before that, but Connie had been her usual self. She worked too hard; pushed too much, slept too little…all of those could be factors in her sudden behavior. Mike didn’t like speculating; he wanted to hear it from her. They talked and shared things with each other. Why the sudden tight lips?
He tried to brush it off. They were in Providence for a reason. Once they got what they needed they had to return to New York. The DA’s office was torn between a trial or a deal for Kimberly Gardner. Right now that had to be his top priority. No, getting Connie something to eat was his top priority, but information for the case was a very close second.
***
“I think that might be the best BLT that I've ever had in my life.” Connie said. She was lying at the top of the bed, had stolen all the pillows and was trying to relax.
“Even better than the one at Constantine’s?” Mike asked, looking up from the file he was leafing through. “Remember the one with the turkey bacon?”
“Oh wait, I don't know if being asked to choose between them is fair. I’ll go with comparing turkey bacon and beef bacon is improbable.”
“I’ll go with your being really hungry tonight.”
“OK.” Connie smiled.
“I'm looking at these photos in Miranda Gardner’s hospital records, Connie. If this is what Kimberly grew up seeing, I see the jury sympathizing with her situation. Even if we do our best to keep alleged prior bad acts by Kyle out they may still…”
“Can we not?” She asked, holding up her hand.
“What?” he took off his glasses and looked at her. It wasn’t often that Mike wore his glasses but they'd had some late nights in the past two weeks and the contacts had begun to irritate him. Whenever he had the opportunity he was taking them out.
“We've been working on this case night and day for weeks now. I just…we’ll jump back in tomorrow with both feet. Can we just not do it tonight?”
“Yeah.” Mike nodded, closing the file. “A good night’s sleep might be best for both of us. You interested in TV?”
“No.” Connie turned it on when she came out of the shower, flipping channels while she ate her sandwich and drank her tea. She settled on some forensics show but it had been on mute for nearly an hour. “Sleep sounds really good.”
It was almost ten o’clock. Connie couldn’t remember the last time she got in bed this early. One night’s sleep probably wouldn’t help in the long run but it might give her the fuel to get through a couple of days in Rhode Island. She was going to have to slow down soon…she was sure of that now.
She smiled when Mike climbed on the bed with her. He claimed to have forgotten to pack pajamas in haste. So he just wore gray boxers and a ratty New York Marathon tee shirt. Connie never told him how much she loved his ratty tee shirts.
“I'm sorry about the one bed thing.” He said. “I asked for a double room.”
“I'm not.” She replied.
“Are you going to share those pillows?”
She handed over one and he smirked. Then she handed over another.
“Thank you.”
She turned out the lights before he could even get under the covers but Mike found his way. He spooned with her, kissing her shoulder. Connie snuggled closer and sighed.
“Dime que es lo que te preocupo. (1)” He whispered.
“Estoy bien. (2)” She replied, stroking his hand as it rested on her belly.
“No, lo no estas. Estoy precupado. (3)”
“Michael, eres maravilloso a veces. (4)”
“Me considero afortunato.” He said. “Te amo, Sway. (5)”
“I love you too.”
“So maybe soon you'll tell me what's on your mind.”
“Soon,” she said. “I promise.”
“That’s all I can ask.” This time Mike kissed the nape of her neck. “I worry about you sometimes. You keep things inside.”
“So do you.”
“I know but…OK, I can't argue with that.”
“You better not, ADA Cutter.” Connie turned in his arms and rested on his chest. Mike exhaled as he reached under her sleep shirt to rub her back.
“Sweet dreams, Connie.”
“Goodnight.”
She didn’t know what she was going to dream about tonight. She knew the case weighed on her and the pregnancy test in the bathroom trash can was practically screaming her name. She wasn’t going to be able to hide it forever; she didn’t even want to. But Connie had no idea how she would tell him.
How would Mike react to news like that? What would her parents think? Her friends? Jack McCoy? She shook all of that from her head and thought about the life growing inside of her. It was a life she and Mike created…it was her child.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me something happy about your childhood.” She said.
“Why?”
“Because.” She replied.
“My dad took me to see the Mets play the A’s in the ’73 World Series. They had rallied from last place to win the pennant and get to the big game. I was eight years old and it was one of the most magical moments of my life. He told me that night that it didn’t matter how low you got, you could always crawl back to the top and win it.
“Its something I've never forgotten even though I haven’t seen him in over thirty years. I sometimes think about taking my own kid to Citi Field someday. We’ll get some almost decent seats, I’ll buy him a pretzel the size of his own head, and show him America’s pastime.”
“What if it’s a girl?”
“I don’t understand the question.” Mike said.
“What if your child is a little girl, Mike?”
“Same deal. Dads and kids bond over baseball. My father didn’t teach me much but he taught me that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be one and I definitely don’t know what kind of father I’d make, but Citi Field here we come. Did you know that the Mets even make those little whole undershirt things for infants…Stevens got one for his kid last year.”
“Onesies.” Connie replied.
“Yeah, onesies, that’s what they're called.” He laughed a little. “I have to admit, don’t tell anyone, they're kind of cute.”
Connie sighed, wrapping her arms tighter around him and closing her eyes. She knew now just how she would tell him that their whole lives were about to change. Citi Field here they come.
***