The Ladies of LAO: Trial by Jury

IDF Fic - Taking Chances

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 11:58:35 GMT

Title: Taking Chances
Author: Ann
Fandom: Law and Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Kelly Gaffney/Tracey Kibre
Word Count: 2872
Written in joyous celebration of International Day of Femslash.
Disclaimer: Law & Order: Trial by Jury and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
Summary: Kelly tries to tell Tracey how she truly feels about her.

A very special thank you to mrswoman for taking on the job of beta for this fic as well as the 22 others and especially for agreeing to write her specialty, Birds of Prey, as part of the IDF 24 fandom series. Thanks, Deb, I truly do appreciate it.

Exhaust from the lines and lines of cars stalled in the morning traffic crept into the poorly sealed window of the cab, overwhelming the blonde who sat uncomfortably on the broken back seat. No matter where she shifted, she managed to find another spring that poked into her ass. Tired of being a human pin cushion, Kelly Gaffney threw some bills over the seat of the taxi and climbed from the car, hoping the walk would improve her less than pleasant disposition, but she hadn’t counted on breaking a heel when she stepped onto the curb, or the headache that seemed to come out of nowhere. With a grimace, she limped heavily down the sidewalk, blaming Tracey Kibre, every step of the way, for her misfortunes.

Forty-five minutes later, a cold and wet Kelly stepped into the elevator of Tracey’s apartment building. She’d been prepared when the raindrops had started to fall, smiling as she’d pulled the umbrella from her bag. It was when she’d pushed on the button for it to open that she’d frowned. Seconds later, a heavy downpour had dropped buckets of rain on her and her unopened umbrella just as the wind decided to accompany the hard rain. With the sudden change in weather, Kelly had made a firm decision, and lowering her head, she’d turned around and headed in the opposite direction, away from the courthouse and the ADA offices towards Tracey.

Inside her warm, dry apartment, Tracey was in the process of gathering up her coat and briefcase when her phone began to ring. Irritated, she crossed the room and grabbed it from its cradle.

“Those papers had better be on Branch’s desk,” she barked into the receiver, already knowing that Kelly wouldn’t have let her down. She frowned at the voice on the other end. “Oh, sorry, Carl, I thought you were someone else.” She half-listened to her building’s security officer.

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Kibre, but I’m calling to inform you that we’ve been having a bit of a problem with the elevators, and . . .”

Tracey cut him off. “That’s okay, Carl. Everyone in the building knows not to use the elevators when it’s storming outside.” Mr. Worthington, Tracey’s neighbor, had made the mistake a few months ago and had spent hours in the elevator before someone was able to repair it.

“Um, well, you see, Ms. Kibre. There’s another reason why I’m calling,” said Carl, his voice raising an octave. He knew better than to make Tracey angry, but this time, he simply had no other choice. “Your colleague somehow got by me and was in the elevator before I could call out a warning. I hadn’t had time to put the ‘out of order’ sign out.”

Tracey furrowed her brow. “My colleague?”

“Yes, Ma’am, that young, blonde assistant of yours.”

“But if the elevator is out of order, then there shouldn’t be a problem, right Carl?”

The security officer shifted from foot to foot, so very grateful he wasn’t having this particular conversation face-to-face. “Well, it was still working at the time.”

“Working as in?” Tracey was quickly losing patience.

“From the first floor to just below yours.” Carl blurted out the elevator’s status as quickly as he could. He nervously rubbed his neck, wondering if Tracey had the ability to reach through the receiver and choke him.

“Just below mine? So, the elevator has stopped between floors?” She paused, adding, “And Kelly’s inside?”

“Yes, Ma’am, that about sums it up. I’ve got a call into the repairman.”

“You tell him to get that elevator working as soon as possible,” Tracey growled into the phone. “And Carl, I need access to the elevator’s phone . . . now!!!”

Just below the third floor, Kelly stood inside the stalled elevator, her feet frozen in the exact same spot as when the car had stopped with a hard jolt. She’d closed her eyes several times in the past five minutes, only to reopen them and find herself in exactly the same situation. Taking a deep breath, Kelly eased to the floor and concentrated on her breathing. This was bad; this was very, very bad.

“Sorry you had to come down to the desk, Ms. Kibre,” Carl apologized, still amazed at how quickly Tracey had managed to climb down three flights of stairs. He motioned toward a plain-looking phone on the far side of the desk. “That’s the direct line to the elevator. If you push the red button, the phone inside the car becomes activated.” He watched Tracy make her way over to the phone and muttered softly, “At least I hope so.”

Lifting the receiver, Tracey pressed the red button, which in actuality was the only button, and waited for any sign of Kelly’s voice. She was instead greeted with silence. With the phone still at her ear, she turned toward the security officer.

“Does this phone even work? I can’t believe there isn’t some way to communicate with individuals who are stuck in the elevator. When Kelly gets out of there, I’m gonna ….” A timid voice sounded softly in Tracey’s ear.

“Hello? Tracey? Tracey, is that you?” Kelly had thought she was hearing things when the soft chirp had sounded in the wall of the elevator, and it had taken her a few seconds to realize where the noise had come from. She’d snatched the receiver from its holder, and Tracey’s voice had echoed in her ear. It had been the most beautiful sound in the world to Kelly.

Tracey wheeled around and turned her back to Carl, her reply soft and gentle. “Kelly? Are you okay?”

“Tracey? Oh God, Tracey, I’m stuck in here!!! Get me out!” Kelly’s so-called minor case of claustrophobia reared its ugly head in a big way, her previous attempts to stay calm forgotten the moment she’d heard Tracey’s voice.

“Kelly, calm down. There’s a technician working on the problem as we speak.” Tracey shot a glare over her shoulder. “Carl, the security officer, is doing everything he possibly can to speed up the process.” Carl gulped loudly and nodded, before racing from the room to find the repairman. Tracey watched him almost trip over his feet as he fled, before turning her attention back to her assistant. “Now, you need to stay in control.”

“In control? In control! How in the hell can I stay in control when I don’t have any fucking control over the situation!” Her breath coming faster and faster, Kelly began to hyperventilate. She was totally unaware of the manner in which she’d spoken to her boss.

“Kelly Gaffney! You listen to me, and you listen to me now. I want you to close your eyes and put your head between your knees. Then take slow deep breaths.” Tracey eased her tone with every word, her mind racing with possible ways to distract her assistant. She went with her gut instincts instead. “Did you deliver those papers to Branch’s office like I asked you to?”

Kelly was following the instructions Tracey had given her to the letter, but she continued to listen to the voice of her lifeline. She was just having too much of a problem breathing properly to answer Tracey’s question. As always, Tracey refused to be ignored.

“Kelly, did you hear me? I asked if you made the delivery to Branch.” The edge returned to Tracey’s voice, and Kelly responded immediately, a bit breathless, but she managed.

“No.”

“What?”

Kelly blew out a much needed breath and rushed her words. “I called Joanna to do it.” She sucked in another quick breath, deciding that talking and breathing were no longer compatible with each other.

“Good, that’s good.” Tracey shifted the conversation to Kelly. “Why did you come here this morning?” She suddenly found herself more interested in the answer than in keeping Kelly’s mind occupied.

“Because…” Kelly decided that one word answers were less stressful to her current manner of breathing. She’d forgotten how much Tracey hated vagueness.

Tracey rolled the desk chair over and took a seat. “Because why?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. She sounded like she was trying to reason with a two-year old.

“I needed to see you.”

“About what?”

Kelly took a deep breath and blurted out her reply. “The letter.”

The one and two word conversation was driving Tracey up the wall, but since Carl hadn’t returned, she figured there must be a problem getting the elevator back into working order. She gamely plodded on. “What letter?”

“Don’t play dumb, Tracey; the one I left in your briefcase last week.” Kelly’s voice was much stronger, practically growling the words out, in much the same manner as her boss had earlier. It seemed Tracey had struck an exposed nerve.

Tracey pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at it. Her plan was working too well. Kelly had actually snapped at her. She narrowed her eyes and moved the phone back to her ear. “I don’t play dumb, Kelly. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” replied Kelly, her words laced with sarcasm and dripping with venom. There no longer seemed to be a problem with her breathing – her blood pressure perhaps, but not her breathing.

“Excuse me?” A shocked expression came over Tracey’s features, and she made a mental note not to allow her assistant to get into another elevator.

“I finally have the guts to pour my feelings into a letter, and you totally dismiss me and my words. I deserved better than that.”

“Now, you listen here, Missy. I don’t know what in the hell . . .”

“Ms. Kibre? The technician needs for your assistant to try pushing the floor button again.” Carl swallowed hard at the speed in which Tracey turned. For a second, he thought she was going to attack. His eyes widened at how quickly she recovered.

“Kelly? Carl needs for you to press the floor button.”

“No.”

“No?” Tracey turned her back on Carl and spoke softly, but forcefully. “You push that goddamned button, or I'll climb down the fucking shaft and do it for you. You got that?”

Silence ensued for several seconds until Carl’s walkie-talkie came to life with a current report from the repairman. “The elevator is on its way to three.” Carl looked at Tracey and pasted on a weak smile.

Slamming the phone into its cradle, Tracey marched past the security officer and headed for the stairwell. If the three flights of stairs didn’t kill her, she was going to kill her assistant when she finally set eyes on her.

The trip up the stairs had been much more difficult than the trip down, although Tracey was fairly certain adrenaline had something to do with it. When she’d realized Kelly was stuck in the elevator, she’d been insane with worry. Kelly had told her several years ago about the time she’d been accidentally locked in the broom closet of her parents’ home, telling Tracey that ever since then small enclosures had been a real problem for her.

Pushing the stairway door open to the third floor, Tracey started toward her apartment. If Kelly thought being stuck in an elevator had been a problem, dealing with a pissed off Tracey was going to be far worse. Rounding the corner, Tracey spotted Kelly sitting down beside her door. She looked so small and defeated, her clothes wet and wrinkled, her hair plastered down in some spots while sticking straight up in others, her feet bare, and her shoes held loosely in her hand.

All the wind went out of Tracey’s sails at the desolate scene before her.

“Are you okay?” Tracey avoided eye contact with her assistant, concentrating instead on putting the key into the lock. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. “C’mon, I’ll put on some coffee.” Without a word, Kelly eased to her feet and moved inside, heading directly for the large window that looked out over the city.

Kelly stared out the window the entire time Tracey busied herself in the kitchen. Now that she was here, inside Tracey’s space, she had no idea what she was going to do. So lost in her thoughts, she never noticed Tracey return, and she certainly didn't see her reach inside her briefcase, searching through its contents, to pull a cream-covered envelope from underneath a stack of folders.

Looking down at the envelope, Tracey turned it over and over, her eyes taking in Kelly’s elegant handwriting with each flip of the card. She had no idea how she could have possibly overlooked the note, but she guessed she must not have seen it when she’d haphazardly thrown in the files as she’d always done. Picking up the cup of coffee she’d laid on the sofa table, she started toward her assistant, the unopened envelope still in her hand.

“Here, drink some of this.” Tracey thrust out the cup, and Kelly took it without looking, slowly sipping the liquid as she kept her gaze on the skyline. Tracey kept hers on the envelope. “I found the letter.”

Kelly turned quickly and almost dropped her cup to the floor. There, in Tracey’s hand, was the letter she’d slipped into the briefcase last week. It was obvious that it was still unopened. She swallowed hard, not able to form a single word.

“What do you want me to do? Read it or let you tell me what it says?” Tracey kept her voice even. She wanted nothing more than to rip open the letter and read its contents. She hated being left in the dark.

Tears filled Kelly’s eyes as she stared down at the reason she’d traversed half-way across the city in the pouring rain. Tracey hadn’t dismissed her; she hadn’t even read the letter. Kelly wondered if her heart could handle any more disappointments.

“Kelly? Would you rather just have it back?” Tracey couldn’t believe what she was offering, but it was apparent that whatever the letter held was very upsetting to her assistant.

“Read it,” Kelly replied hoarsely as she turned back toward the window. She couldn’t bear to see any kind of rejection projected back at her. Tracey hesitated for only a moment before she moved to the sofa and took a seat. Sliding a finger under the flap, she pulled the letter free and began to read.

My dearest Tracey,

I can no longer work beside you every day and keep my feelings for you buried so deeply in my heart. From the first case to the last, I’m in constant awe of your amazing talent, your endless drive, and your overwhelming desire to right all wrong. Your passion for the job is second to none, and I find myself trying so very hard to follow in your footsteps, but somewhere along the way, my vision got blurred and I found myself desperately needing to walk beside you instead. I know that in all probability you don’t feel the same way, and I can’t say that I’d be surprised. I’ve never been lucky in love before, so why should I start now? So, it is with great regret that I formally request to be considered for reassignment in the department, and if that’s not possible, then I shall tender my resignation as soon as you’re able to find a suitable replacement.

Always,
Kelly

The breath left Tracey’s body; she now knew exactly how Kelly felt when she was trapped in the elevator. No one had ever written or spoken so eloquently about their feelings toward her, and never had Tracey actually reciprocated the feelings. In short, she was stunned.

Kelly counted the seconds until they turned into minutes with still no response from Tracey. Lowering her head, she focused on the hardwood floor, her mind following the distressed pattern of the dark wood instead of focusing on the situation at hand. It was easier to distract herself than to face what she knew to be true. Tracey didn't feel the same way; her feelings were one-sided.

She jumped when a pair of slender arms wound their way around her waist and pulled her tightly against a petite body. A voice whispered in her ear.

“We need to take this slow, Kelly. I’m not used to dividing my attention between a lover and my job. I can be overbearing at times.”

Kelly laughed and placed her hands on top of Tracey’s; overbearing was putting it mildly. “I happen to think you’re worth the effort.”

“Okay, I just want you to know what you’re getting into.” Tracey leaned her chin on Kelly’s shoulder. “You need to get out of these clothes.”

Kelly tensed but immediately calmed at Tracey’s next words. “You’re soaked to the bone. I can’t believe you didn’t have enough sense to get out of the rain.”

Turning in Tracey’s arms, Kelly leaned in close and whispered. “People in love do crazy things.”

With a grin, Tracey inched closer. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

Lips pressed together gently and then more firmly as the sun broke through the clouds and shone brightly on the skyline, bringing with it a promise of wonderful things to come.

anyone catch Amy Carlson in this week's Criminal Minds

Fri, 16 May 2008 04:11:05 GMT

She played US Attorney Cece (missed the last name) in this week's episode.

She was Kelly, channeling Tracey. dead on.

It made me really miss TBJ... I'll have to do Net Flix or something...

Miss the fics and challenges too

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 09:38:10 GMT

I was cleaning out my old hard drive and I found this which begged to be dusted off, prodded into a semblance of order and aired. It's sort of a meditation really...

Rated: G
Title:I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.
-T. S. Eliot

Kelly Gaffney couldn’t catch a cab to save her life. She was stuck somewhere on the lower east side after an interview, it was beginning to drizzle, and her ability to get irretrievably lost less than a stones throw from her apartment was nothing short of legendary. Her brother had found it absolutely hilarious that despite living in Oak Grove her entire life, upon receiving her drivers license she could spend forty five minutes trying to find her way home from the store. That ability had carried through college, law school and on into New York.

I watch the way Tracey paces in her office, mapping out her arguments. The way her hair falls over her shoulders and slides through her scarves. The poised moments just before the first bite of dessert, when I yearn for something just out of reach, leave me aching and dreaming of chocolate smooth and spicy. I drown in her voice drifting on the low waves, only to crash on the rocks of awareness. I keep telling myself… It’s a work place crush.

The light burned out a circle on the desk reflecting off sheet upon sheet of yellow legal pad as Tracey tried to keep the defense at bay. The closing argument scattered across her desk just didn’t feel right, this jury had been particularly tricky and her heart wasn’t in the argument. Her mind drifted, spun in eddies, only to dash against the same stubborn inconsistencies.

Tracey sighed, as the door creaked open. Kelly lingered in the shadow of the doorframe hesitating, caught in silence waiting for the attorney’s sudden upward glance. Tracey buried her head in an out flung arm bowed over the desk, Andromeda on the rocks.

Knocking lightly against the door, slowly Kelly crossed the room, holding her notes before her like an offering.

“Are those from the Maxwell case?”

“Rodriguez interview.” Kelly answered. I’ve never seen her looking so adrift among this sea of arguments and notes before. She’s always so sure of the course.

“I’ll look at them in the morning. Then we can prep for Maxwell.” Tracey stood stiffly pushing off of the desk she had spent too many hours at today, yesterday, as she would again tomorrow. “And indeed there will be time.” She murmured gathering the argument such as it was together and adding Kelly’s files to the stack.

“Don’t forget, Branch wants to see us before the arraignment tomorrow.” Kelly tucked her damp hair behind her ear, as she reminded Tracey, and turned to the door.

Tracey watched her go.

“Oh and Kibre, get some sleep.” Kelly’s parting remark was fired from the door.

She radiates like a clear day. Tracey smiled. And this moment lost like a thousand others, full of vision and revisions.

Tracey sat in the dim blue light staring at the vodka gimlet in front of her, a golden trombone solo washed over her, she grimaced slightly at the clear cold bite of the first sip.

“Nothing like returning to your roots Kibre.” She raised her glass in salute.

This was her favorite seat at the Foundry; she could see the door, the bar, and the stage. Here no one could sneak up on her. Unlike this afternoon, she could see them coming; and there was the music, pulling at her soul teasing her with the play of chaos and order. She drew her finger through the water ring on the table bisecting it again, and again. The ice shifted in her glass…frozen, She had frozen …in court.

Kelly thinks I don’t know she watches me. That I can’t feel the cool blue weight of her gaze skittering down my spine in the court room, or catch the side ways twinkle through hair like the only patch of sunlight on an overcast morning. Oh Tracey, there you could drown.

Kelly Gaffney stared at the sign out side her window, the neon glow reminding her of the stars invisible from the city’s half deserted streets. She traced the edges of the casement lightly caressing the cold metal, she’d been transfixed by the momentary break in the order of Tracey Kibre’s soul.

But should I have the strength to push the moment to a crisis, and face that it could shatter among carefully caught regrets.

Challenge fic: Maneuvers

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 13:23:28 GMT

Author: eponinesghost (EppieG)
Title: Maneuvers

Pairing: Tracey/Kelly
Rating: PG

Notes/Summary: Written in response to the "Running Late" challenge .... (Again, half a century ago) One-shot story. Not part of any series.

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Once she realized that by leaning forward she wasn't actually making the cab go any faster, Kelly sank back into the worn upholstery with a heavy sigh. She even allowed her head to tip back against the seat without thinking about God-knows-what that had touched the same spot in the hours and weeks before. She was only thinking about getting there on time. Or was it in time? Chuckling softly, she reminded her inner taskmaster that this wasn't really an appointment she was keeping. Or trying to keep. Damn the Kowalski deposition for running so late! It had been an awkward moment when she'd had to come up with a reason not to share a cab with Hector back to the office. Her murmured explanation about having errands to run was probably not all that convincing. It certainly didn't help that she was terrible at lying or bluffing in general ... and was a tad more flustered than usual considering the reason she wanted to be on her own.

Closing her eyes and exhaling deeply, she conceded that the privacy she was seeking was more than a little ironic. With a slight grimace, she floated the idea that she could just turn around and head back to the office if she was going to feel so guilty about the whole thing. But she didn't speak up or make a move to get the driver's attention. There was no way she was going to talk herself out of it now, even though her heart was racing. Some of that was adrenaline, a twinge of daredevil impulse. Maybe she was so intent because her heart was racing. She felt her cheeks flush warm and opened her eyes to get her bearings.

Before the driver could pull up to the curb, she was already sliding across to the other door, thrusting a handful of bills through the small opening in the Plexiglas. Somehow managing to wait until the car came to a full stop, she threw a quick 'thanks' over her shoulder and bolted out onto the sidewalk. As she moved toward the building with a glance at her watch, she breathed another 'thank-you' to whomever she should be grateful to that she'd made it.

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The first time had occurred only by chance. Coincidence. A literal collision of fate. The messenger who was trying to track Tracey down had run headlong into Kelly in the lobby. The ugly bruise on her upper arm was long forgotten, the flash of irritation immediately dashed away by her concern for the young man's own injury. He had fallen awkwardly and broken his wrist, requiring immediate medical attention. She'd insisted on taking the package to Tracey herself -- to the unfamiliar address he'd been given in the office upstairs -- despite the fact that the accident had been his fault. She hadn't wanted him to get into trouble, and besides, Tracey might really need whatever he'd been delivering. It had honestly been that simple.

She'd had a perfectly good explanation for showing up here then. This visit, however, was deliberate and admittedly intrusive. Pausing in front of the door she'd knocked on so enthusiastically the last time, she took a calming breath. This was her chance to call it off, to flee without the possibility of being discovered. She weighed her options ... deciding rather quickly that she wanted to go in far more than she wanted to go back.

Smiling at how the faded words on the nondescript plaque to the right of the entryway had puzzled her previously, she tugged softly on the handle and stepped inside. The Sperling Studio didn't lock the front door during office hours, a detail that spared her the well-rehearsed excuse she'd prepared for elderly Mrs. Sperling -- who'd so sweetly greeted her before -- but caused her no small amount of concern for the security of the premises. She'd find a way to mention that and encourage them to take greater precautions. After all, anybody could just walk in off the street. Like she had just done. God.

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Kelly felt like she was taking a step back in time as she moved down the hallway. She'd be willing to bet that nothing had changed inside the Sperling Studio in the last 30 years except the postings on the overcrowded bulletin board. Absently, she wondered if there were any younger Sperlings who would take over and continue the family business or if this was the studio's last act. She could pick up the awkward sounds of a piano lesson in progress nearby, and farther down to her left, the faint music that signaled her destination. The classical strains grew louder as she passed the door to room number eight. Her heart skipped in apprehension as she imagined what would happen were it suddenly to open, leaving her stranded there without cover or excuse. She quickened her pace until she could slip safely around the corner, almost laughing in relief even as she chastised herself for blowing her anxiety out of proportion. She might be treading on shaky ground, but it wasn't an actual mine field.

Still, her hand trembled slightly as she opened the unmarked door that had been her goal all along. When she'd followed Mrs. Sperling in here on her substitute messenger run, she had originally been more fascinated by it's presence than it's purpose -- or it's promise. It was as much a storage room as anything else, a glorified closet, although quite large considering. Remarkably, there was space to move around comfortably, and a small sitting area that might have doubled as a study or quiet place to take a break. A crooked floor lamp shone weakly on that portion of the room and she was grateful that she didn't have to feel her way toward the chair she was seeking.

The most striking feature of the room wasn't really inside the room itself. One entire wall was taken up by a two-way mirror, opening up a full view of the room she'd just passed. The main dance studio. Mrs. Sperling had explained that it was often the best way for parents to watch a child practice or perform, without interference, without intimidation, without inducing self-consciousness. Kelly had assumed it was also a way for the teachers and others to monitor classes and practices without alerting the students. Although she was sure the room and it's utility were not a secret to those who danced on the other side, she was also fairly sure that it was easy enough to ignore or forget it's existence. Something she had not been able to do.

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The diminutive owner had ushered her to this place then to wait until Tracey had finished her session. Not wanting to interrupt or intrude, Kelly had meant to respond that she could just leave the package ... but once she caught a glimpse of Tracey through the glass, she'd been too stunned to speak. She'd watched motionless, entranced, until Mr. Sperling had shuffled through to locate some sheet music, breaking the spell. Hastily she'd withdrawn, imploring the older gentlemen to make sure that Tracey received the large envelope she'd left on the table. It wasn't until she'd nearly reached her apartment that she bothered to examine why she'd fled so childishly. She'd been there on official business. Tracey herself had left the address of where she could be reached. So why had she been so desperate to get away without being spotted?

Because she hadn't known anything about the ballet studio. She wasn't the one who'd been given the just-in-case location. It would have been relatively easy for Tracey to indicate where she was going to be, especially since Kelly had since discovered it was somewhat of a regular routine. A small "B" in her datebook and her desk calendar. Finding out by accident made it worse somehow. And even though she wanted nothing more than to watch Tracey dance until she had seen every last step, to tell her how impressed she'd been ... she'd had the sudden and distinct feeling that she was an uninvited guest. She'd been embarrassed to acknowledge how hurt she was that Tracey hadn't shared any part of this with her. The thought of facing Tracey's irritation at her surprise appearance would have been too much to bear.

But she couldn't put it out of her mind, the image of Tracey dancing. So relaxed and focused and free at the same time. So graceful and elegant. The vision had been altogether too fleeting. No matter how hard she tried to capture and save it in her memory, it wasn't enough. Little by little her obsession with attending a repeat performance began to overtake her prior disappointment, her professionalism, and finally her good sense. Almost without realizing it, she'd devised a plan of how she could get back to the best seat in the house. At first she'd assured herself it was just a fantasy, that she'd never actually go through with it. That she'd suck it up and mind her own business. And yet, here she was.

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It was worth it. Whatever happened from this point on, she could console herself with the knowledge that it was all worth it. Yes, she was probably certifiable, but she wouldn't have missed this for the world. Tracey was incredible. Even more striking was the transformation. Her unguarded expression, how she glowed ... not to mention the way she moved. The skill and power and command she possessed. Kelly was enthralled and awed. She knew the analogy was a total cliché, but she was drawn toward the mirror like a moth to a flame, hardly aware of her own motion. She barely knew a plie from a pirouette, but she knew she wanted to be closer. On the other side, Tracey danced toward the mirror, stopping just in front of it ... holding her last position, breathing hard from the exertion, but clearly pleased with the result. A slow smile spread across her face and Kelly nearly melted.

In fact she was a little light-headed. She was about to sit down again when Tracey approached the barre. Transfixed, Kelly watched her grasp it and begin to stretch, twist and bend. They were literally only inches apart, despite the glass. She couldn't feel her own legs as she watched Tracey lift one of hers and balance it on the smooth wood. She could see every spectacularly defined muscle, every curve and line, as Tracey pointed her toes and reached for her ankle. She was so damn beautiful. Kelly's hand fluttered up, hovering as if she could touch ... pierce the illusion ... finally resting against the cold surface in defeat, the temperature there a stark contrast to the warmth consuming the rest of her body.

If she had walked in on anyone else in this situation, doing this same thing, she would have considered them a perv. She knew she should feel ashamed of herself, but she didn't, couldn't. She hadn't come to drool over Tracey's relative state of undress, although she certainly appreciated it. Despite her inability to articulate her motives, she knew she was attracted to much more than the physical attributes before her. It was the intimacy of actually seeing Tracey in her element, her soul exposed. The raw energy that fueled her, the obvious passion. Experiencing it in person, the purity of it, made her ache. And jealous. That she didn't have something that consumed her to the same degree. Looking through the mirror as she slowly retreated, it dawned on her that maybe she did.

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As she moved down the hall, Tracey unwound the slip of material she'd used to tie her hair back. She'd thrown half of her clothes on over her leotard and the rest were in the duffle slung loosely over her shoulder. Poking her head into the third room she'd passed, she found Mrs. Sperling cleaning an old chalkboard, wiping away musical notes and stanzas. "I'm leaving now, Ethel ... make sure you lock the door behind me."

Before the older woman even turned toward her, Tracey heard her "tsk, tsk" under her breath. "You think I don't listen, but I do." She waved her hand in a fondly dismissive manner. "Run along now, little one."

Tracey smirked at the endearment. She was at least 6 inches taller than Ethel. If not more. She was about to return the "compliment" when Mrs. Sperling spoke again.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She smiled up at Tracey. "Your pretty blonde friend was here again today." Seeing the confused expression on Tracey's face, she added. "But no package this time. Just her. No reason." She went back to the blackboard, effectively ending the conversation. "Didn't speak to us this day ... me or Irving."

What the hell? Had Kelly needed something? As she made her way down the street, Tracey was truly baffled. First Kelly dropped off an important document delivery without waiting to discuss the contents -- and didn't even bother to ask about it after the fact either, which wasn't like her at all. She was innately curious. And always going the extra mile on their cases. And now ... she'd come down here for a reason, even if she hadn't felt comfortable sharing it with the Sperlings. But she'd left, disappeared, vanished.

The more she walked, the more concerned Tracey became. Was something wrong? She knew that she was often wrapped up in her own world, too far inside her own head, but she thought she was more in tune with her partner. Had she missed something important? She wracked her brain. Kelly had seemed distracted of late.

She fished around in her bag for her phone, then stopped herself. If Kelly had wanted to talk about it tonight, she would have hung around until Tracey was done. Damn it. Tracey Kibre wasn't a patient person. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she made a decision. She'd insist on taking Kelly to lunch tomorrow and get to the bottom of whatever was going on, clear the air. She didn't like it when things between them were muddled or vague. Hell, she didn't like things between them, period. She much preferred things open, transparent. And she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, or let anything stand in her way.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the end

thanks for reading!

Challenge fic: Something Here Inside

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 05:10:42 GMT

Author: eponinesghost (EppieG)
Title: Something Here Inside

Pairing: Tracey/Kelly
Rating: PG-13-ish language
Notes/Summary: Written in response to the "Apologies" challenge .... (A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away).
Tracey/Kelly established relationship. Can be read as a continuation of If Ever I Fall, albeit a significant time later ...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With all due respect for Sir Elton, Tracey Kibre begged to differ. "Sorry" wasn't even close to being the hardest word. In the top three maybe, definitely top five material. Being argumentative was a talent she had been born with and had honed into a sharp skill over her lifetime. She actually got paid for it. She was so good at it that she rarely noticed that sometimes her toughest opponent was the other voice inside her head. Didn't matter. Either way she won those -- if they ever reached a resolution.

Right now, lost in an all too familiar tussle with herself, she could think of a few words that she'd put above the titular song subject.

"Please" for instance. It was at least as strenuous as "sorry."

Not one prone to ever ask for help, it had mostly languished in her vocabulary's attic. Now she was contemplating rooting around for it, dusting it off. Life had a way of resuscitating all forms of "just in case" storage.

This particular situation required everything to be in working order. No stone left unturned. As she rolled the words around inside her head, arranging them in rough draft form, she wished for all the world for a Dorothy Gale to show up with an all-purpose oil can. Damn, she was rusty.

She had to be honest. Above all else. Sincerity was a must. Anything less would be digging deeper, not out. But the words themselves would be important too, possibly even critical. "Critical" ... that was certainly a double-edged sword wasn't it? She'd already used the sharp side, now she had to find a way to minimize the scarring.

Maybe if she practiced out loud. That worked for court. Pacing behind the sofa, she cleared her throat.

"Please ... can we please go back and pretend that I wasn't a complete ass earlier?"

Almost before the phrase formed she was shaking her head. Too flippant, even if it were her most fervent hope. She rubbed her hands together absently, trying to somehow summon the perfect plea. Finally clasping her fingers together, she tried again.

"What can I do to make it up to you? Please tell me ... whatever it is ..."

Growling in frustration Tracey clenched her fists before running her fingers roughly through her hair. That wouldn't work! Wasn't fair. That was throwing the burden back, asking for too easy an absolution. As badly as she wanted it, she knew that receiving it without the proper effort would make it all .... wrong.

There was another word she had some issues with. Only when and if it applied to her, of course. It flowed like fine wine when she was directing it toward someone else. Using it now, no ... owning it now ... that might be the most transparent way to show the magnitude of her remorse.

Raw and direct. "I was wrong. I was so wrong."

She prowled back and forth over the same stretch of carpet she'd been wearing out since the door had slammed shut -- rattling the pictures and causing the security chain to swing in a mesmerizing manner while she'd watched, stunned. Once it had stilled, she hadn't stopped moving. Her mind desperately racing.

Now she was practically chanting. "It was me, I was wrong. Completely wrong. So fucking wrong." With each stride she became more emphatic. "I'm sorry. I was wrong." Her voice stronger, infused with more and more emotion as she let the words reflect the true depth of their meaning.

"I was wrong. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, saying ... but I know I'm so damn sorry. Please ..."

The last word tapered off into a whisper as she saw and heard the door knob turning. One hand dropped to the back of the sofa to steady her as she froze in place, anxious and elated. Her breathing sounding unnaturally loud as everything switched to slow motion. Every cell in her body seemed to be screaming at her to rush forward, yank the door open ... but she couldn't manage one simple step.

This tortured defiance of her will was only magnified when Kelly finally faced her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kelly's jaw was set, her cheeks flushed. Although the tell-tale signs of serious crying remained evident, Tracey could tell that the gorgeous blue was unnaturally bright with still unshed pain. At that observation, she felt the sting of a thousand cuts prick her own eyes, threatening to blur her focus in more ways than one.

What she couldn't see, couldn't read, was that everything she'd agonized over ... every realization she'd uncovered ... was written plainly on her face. She missed the slight softening of Kelly's expression, was barely aware of the catch in her breath as she came closer and closer to where Tracey had become overwhelmed and motionless.

When it seemed that Kelly was about to speak ... to release her ... Tracey miraculously gained some dexterity and was able to signal with her hand for silence. Pleading with her eyes for time to recover her speech. To go first. She swallowed reflexively, trying to relieve the tightness of her throat, to calm the tremor that promised to shake her apart.

"... I'm .... " Her mouth moved soundlessly then, though the mantra she had clung to still echoed through her mind. Exhaling without air, she forced herself to try again. " ... I ... "

Unbidden her fingers found their way to Kelly's temple, her thumb wiping away the last trace of a tear. The gentleness of her touch belying the fierce struggle within. "Kelly ... I ... " Her voice was soft but sure, so sure. "... love you."

The impact was immediate. Crushed in Kelly's arms, her legs weak with relief, held up only by the strength of this embrace, she continued, her lips brushing the soft damp skin of Kelly's cheek. "I'm so damned sorry." Alternately kissing as she spoke. Feeling Kelly's hand and breath in her hair. "I love you."

Tracey marveled as she repeated them again and again, effortlessly. This was right.

And they were the easiest three words she'd ever meant.

........................................................................................

the end
thanks for reading!

"They ... asked me how I knew ...
My true love was true
Oh ... I of course replied ...
Something here inside ... cannot be denied"

~ Smoke Gets In Your Eyes ~
-- The Platters

Amy Carlson in a new movie for 2008

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 12:41:32 GMT

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=2016824433

Can't find much more information on this anywhere.

Amy Carlson on NCIS (5x10)

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 18:58:07 GMT

Amy Carlson guest-starred on NCIS this week. :)

FIC: All in a Day's Work (Trial by Jury)

Mon, 22 Oct 2007 02:53:46 GMT

Title: All in a Day's Work
Author: rysler
Date: October 21, 2007
Source: Law & Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Tracey/Kelly (pre-slash)
Rating: R for lust and dark themes.
Notes: 1400 words. This is what happens when there's a Criminal Intent marathon on Bravo, an SVU marathon on USA, and I decide, nah, I'll watch a DVD.

When Work is All There Is:

Hector was really the one to blame. Kelly had been at O'Grady's with him, having drinks during something between an after-work cooling-off session and an actual date, and he'd brought up their boss.

"She's hot, don't you think?" He'd asked, cheerfully drunk, his breath sweet with beer and his hands nowhere near her.

"Tracey? She's--"

"She's what, five years older than you? Come on. She's in great shape."

Kelly's face burned. She shook her head, trying to erase the curves of Tracey's hips from her mind, and asked, "Do you think she goes to the gym?"

"Oh, hell no," Hector said. "She gets other forms of exercise."

"You've had too much to drink."

"It helps the leg," Hector said.

She felt sorry for him for being younger than both of them and limping to his practically-rent-a-cop job every morning. "Let me buy you another," she said.

"Make it coffee. You're always right, Gaffney."

She looked into the bottom of her wine glass and sighed.

* * *

Chris looked over the newspaper as Kelly came into the office. "What's an eight letter word for muerte? I got an M and an O." He said.

"H-O-M-O-C-I-D-E."

Chris wrote it in with his pencil.

Tracey was perched on the edge of his desk. She couldn't have been helping him, he'd be done by now. She must be taunting him. "Is Tracey helping?" Kelly asked.

"Nah, she wants me to drive out to Long Island and talk to some people. It'll take all day."

"I wanted that ten minutes ago," said Tracey.

Chris shook his head. He said, "They aren't even being called as witnesses."

"They know the witnesses. Come on. You get an expense account for lunch and you can listen to Ricky Martin CDs in the car. What's not to love?" Tracey asked.

"I'm going, I'm going," Chris said. He folded the paper.

Kelly, her head still foggy from the wine the night before, was looking at Tracey's legs. They were sheathed in denim, so tight the curve of Tracey's calf was visible, and the cuff hugged the boot underneath like a tourniquet.

Like a tourniquet? Kelly needed to stop socializing with Hector and get a life. She asked, "If you're going to Long Island, can you drop off a subpoena for me?"

"What do I look like, a messenger boy?"

Kelly tilted her head and regarded him.

"Fine." Chris snatched the envelope from her hand. He set the paper on the desk.

Tracey stood up. She leaned over the desk. "He left a few blank. Idiot. What's Susan of L.A. Law?'"

"Ass," Kelly said, because it was right in front of her, and even a contempt cite or losing her job wouldn't stop her from staring.

"What?"

"I mean--Dey. D-E-Y."

"Thanks." Tracey scribbled in the word, and then frowned over her shoulder. "I'm not being an ass if he's not here to hear me, Kelly."

"Sorry," Kelly said.

Tracey shrugged, chucked the paper into the wastebasket under Chris's desk, and walked toward her office.

Kelly swallowed hard.

* * *

Kelly had taken a cold shower every morning that week. She'd refused to go out again with Hector, or stay in with him watching old black and white movies, but she'd accepted a date from Mark the defense attorney, solely because Tracey hated him, and found out too late that Tracey hated him because he'd never heard of breath mints and he loved extra garlic on his pizza.

She'd asked out the girl who made her coffee every morning at Starbucks, and found she really didn't like grunge music or hearing about history classes at Columbia or how screwed up the world was. Her work was more than enough trouble. She didn't need to go to Darfur or look at pictures of aborted fetuses to know reality. The girl hadn't even been a good kisser. The tongue pin clanged against Kelly's teeth, and when she stroked the girl's breast and felt more metal under her fingers, she'd called it a night.

Her phone rang. Her college was probably calling, demanding back its humanities degree. But no, it was her father, asking her what she wanted for her 35th birthday. A trip to Hawaii? A real job?

Hector had been amiable when she'd showed up at his place at 11 o'clock Thursday night. They'd watched old movies subtitled in Espanol and drank Dos Equis and he didn't try to touch her once. She felt old, but his cat curled up in her lap and she didn't have much basis for complaint. Only the alcohol thickening her tongue kept her from asking, "What are we, friends?"

She was afraid he'd respond with, "What are you, a raging dyke?"

Her work had been enough for too long.

Friday morning found her in the second chair at the courtroom at 9:03, thinking about her craptastic week and wondering where Tracey was. There was no way Kelly had the balls to give the opening statement they'd prepared. If the jury didn't know enough to laugh at her, the judge surely would.

At 9:04 Tracey scurried in, balancing two cups of coffee on her briefcase. She wore a severe black suit, cut just a centimeter too high for propriety, and sheer black stockings that nearly made Kelly pass out. Tracey looked both petite and deadly. Kelly didn't know how Tracey would win sympathy with the jury like that, but she glanced at the opening statement notes and remembered that the man on trial had shot a six year old girl over a drug deal with her father gone bad. Tracey was the will of the people, v. Hernon, and she would do their executioner bidding.

"Nice suit," Kelly said.

"Thanks. Sorry I'm late," Tracey said, putting down the coffee. "Clara says you haven't been by in the last couple of days. She wants me to say hi."

Kelly raised an eyebrow.

"Hi," Tracey said.

Kelly smirked.

Tracey sat down and opened her briefcase. She pulled out the photocopied opening statement, with red pen marks all over like she'd stabbed it, and exhaled.

Kelly took a sip of her coffee. One sugar, no milk. Just this side of bitter. Tracey knew how she liked her coffee now. The thought was... arousing. She took another sip, and glanced at Tracey out of the corner of her eye.

"The Starbucks girl? Really?"

Kelly swallowed coffee and said, "It's been a long week."

"Was she worth it?"

"It's been a really long week."

Tracey snapped her briefcase shut. She said, "Feel free to work out some of that tension on Mr. Hernon."

"That would be unprofessional," Kelly muttered.

Tracey winked at her.

When prosecution's opening statement started, Tracey's ass moved across the courtroom, from the defense table to the jury box and back again, swaying in the skirt that hid nothing, in front of Kelly, and it seemed, always presented to her. Of course, what did Tracey need to look at second chair for? Kelly slouched.

Tracey sat down. Kelly watched at the line of her legs as Tracey crossed one knee over the other. Tracey tapped the blank legal pad and hissed, "Take notes, Kelly."

Kelly took notes. She tried not to let herself get distracted by the woman next to her, by the idea that her beauty and grace were somehow classical, and more than a tired assistant district attorney working her way through yet another drug case. Ordinary. Normal. Nothing to lose a job over, or her sense of purpose.

She'd felt this way before, the warmth in her stomach, the tingling in her palms. With her law professor, with the boy who stole her lunch in seventh grade, with her last boss, the one that made her leave the practice a year before she'd make junior partner. Not once had it been worth it. She tried to remind herself that it hadn't ever been worth it as she studied Tracey's profile.

As Hector had reminded her a week ago when he'd opened this Pandora's box, Tracey was just as much of a lecher as the rest of them. Kelly couldn't feel safe, just looking. Maybe not even now. Tracey brushed her knuckles and Kelly nearly dropped the pen.

"You spelled 'intent' wrong," Tracey whispered.

Kelly studied the paper in front of her. 'Indent.' "Intend this," she wrote, in her most elegant prose, and Tracey snorted.

* * *

"You--You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Kelly asked, as they left the court room.

"Did what?"

"You know what. It's not nice to torment your co-workers. That's why your office has such high turnover."

Tracey held aloft a file folder and said, "The case, Kelly. All that matters is the case." She walked away from Kelly, toward the elevators.

Kelly folded her arms. "Bitch."

Tracey pushed the elevator button. Kelly sighed and hurried to catch up with her, just as the elevator door opened. Tracey cupped Kelly's elbow and said, in a low voice, "You'll break my heart if you leave."

"That's almost tempting."

"I promise, if we win, we'll celebrate," Tracey said. Her shoulder pressed against Kelly. The elevator doors closed.

"Thank God it's a slam dunk case."

END

Fic - A Case in Point

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 15:34:46 GMT

Title: A Case in Point
Author: Ann
Fandoms: Law and Orders: Trial by Jury & Special Victims Unit
Pairings: Tracey/Kelly Alex/Olivia
Disclaimer: Law & Order: Trial by Jury & Special Victims Unit and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
Summary: Tracey is assigned to present a case to the Grand Jury, a case she clearly doesn’t want.
AN1: Written for the FemSlash Advent Calendar:: Dog Days of Summer 2007. Thanks to AJ and Jenn for the opportunity to participate in their wonderful calendar.
AN2: This idea sprung from a challenge in the tbj_ladies community requesting a crossover case.
Beta Thanks: To mrswoman, for her constant support and her belief in my writing.

Crossposted to darandkerry and passion_perfect

“Why are you assigning this hearing to me? No cop in New York will want to work with me after this,” Tracey complained, upset at her boss for singling her out for this particular court hearing.

“Someone has to do it, and it may as well be you,” Branch offered gruffly in response.

Glaring at the District Attorney, Tracey knew from the expression on his face that it wouldn’t do any good to argue, but like the true force of nature that she was, she protested anyway.

“What about McCoy, your golden boy? Nothing ever sticks to him, so why not let him present the case to the Grand Jury?”

“Tracey, this is not open to discussion. Now, I’m late for a meeting with the mayor. I trust this conversation is over?” Branch made it a point to stand in an attempt to use his height to try to intimidate his tiny assistant.

The ADA grabbed her coat and briefcase from the nearby chair. “I just hope nothing comes back to bite us on the ass with this one, Arthur.”

Tracey grumbled and cursed the entire journey back to her office, but she paused silently in the doorway when she noted her assistant poring over a stack of files. Kelly immediately sensed being watched and looked up to find a blank expression on her boss’ face.

“Please tell me you were able to pass this one off to someone else.”

Walking into the office, Tracey threw her things on the nearby sofa and gracefully took a seat next to them. “No, I wasn’t. We’ve got to tread very carefully, Kelly.”

“No kidding. This woman is a highly decorated detective and respected by every branch of the police department. We’re going to look like we’re out to crucify Mother Teresa,” Kelly replied, leaning back in her chair to rest her aching neck.

Tracey mimicked her assistant’s posture as she melted into the couch. “And it certainly doesn’t help knowing that the ADA working the case believes she deserves a medal instead of facing possible charges.”

“You mean Alex?”

“No, I mean me.” Tracey looked over at her partner and grimaced. “But thanks so much for bringing up dear Alexandria. She’s going to go ballistic when she hears about this.”

A few buildings down, Alex Cabot strode into the precinct loaded for bear. No one dared to approach her as she made her way into the detectives’ offices, and even Munch resisted the temptation to speak to the determined ADA, wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut, not chancing the risk of incurring her wrath.

The furious blonde burst into Cragen’s office without bothering to knock, and she further announced her presence by slamming the wooden door so hard that the glass rattled almost to the point of breaking.

“What the hell is this, Don?” Alex demanded, flinging an official looking document in the center of the captain’s desk.

“Now hold on, Alex. If you want to yell at someone, I suggest you start with your boss. I’m just as upset about this as you are. Branch is the one who’s insisting the Grand Jury decide whether deadly force was necessary when Olivia shot the second bank robber.”

“She’s lying in a hospital bed with a hole in her shoulder. I think deadly force is a moot point, don’t you?” Alex gestured wildly, her voice filled with righteous anger.

The captain stood and walked around the desk, speaking softly. “Alex, everything will be fine. There’s no way the Grand Jury will indict Olivia. She’s a hero.”

Tears filled the ADA’s blue eyes. “But that’s the point. She shouldn’t have to be subjected to a hearing of any kind. Can’t you do something, Don? I tried to make an appointment with Branch, but he’s dining with the mayor. Besides, he’d never listen to me.”

The father figure pulled Alex into an embrace, and the ADA broke down, crying for the first time since Olivia had been shot. The past several days had taken a toll on the blonde, and she could no longer hold her tattered emotions together.

******

Kelly stepped into the law office, carrying a large bag and balancing a cup holder containing two drinks. She walked directly to the small table where her partner was poring over the exact same statements as when the assistant had left to head to the building’s cafeteria. Shaking her head, Kelly began to unpack their lunch.

“Find anything new? You’ve read those witness statements over a hundred times already.”

Tracey looked up sharply. “Where is the goddamn gun all these people profess to have seen? Even the security guard swore that the second robber aimed at Olivia after she and the first robber had exchanged fire. He stated that as Olivia was going down, she fired the fatal shot which killed John Gabriel. So, where in the hell is the gun?”

Kelly shrugged her shoulders as she placed a sandwich in front of Tracey. “I have no idea. The bank was searched from top to bottom, and Gabriel’s gun wasn’t found. It’s too bad the robbers blacked out the video camera; we’d have had a bird’s eye view of the event as it took place. Instead, we’ve got to stand in front of a jury and present the assumption that all the hostages were so beholden to Detective Benson that they’re lying to protect her.”

“You mean me. I’m the one who has to build the scenario and make the accusation.” Tracey lifted the top slice of whole wheat bread and frowned at the brownish filling staring back at her. “Tuna?”

Reaching across the table, Kelly quickly snatched up the sandwich and replaced it with the one she’d been unwrapping. “Sorry. They mislabeled the paper wrapping. I’d never buy you tuna, even if it were the only thing left.”

Several blocks away, Olivia stubbornly pushed her tray out of the way much to the displeasure of her nurse. “Detective, you have to eat something. You have to keep your strength up or you won’t be able to leave the hospital.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wheel me out in a body bag because I’m not eating anymore of this cr...”

“Olivia!” Alex swept into the room and moved next to her partner, ready to chastise the detective for her rudeness; however, a raised eyebrow and a pointing finger brought the blonde’s attention to the food laden tray, the tray filled with oddly colored food.

“Oh, I see your point.” Turning to the nurse, Alex smiled. “I’ll make sure she eats every bite.”

The nurse smirked at Olivia and left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Alex! How could you take her side? Look at that food. I’ll die if I eat it.”

The ADA silenced her lover with a kiss and, by the time she released Olivia’s lips, the detective was as limp as the vegetables on her tray. Reaching into her bag, Alex pulled out two containers and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, I do love you Alex Cabot.” Olivia smiled and reached for the blonde, kissing her again as she rested her hand possessively on the Italian take-out.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia sopped up the last of the lasagna with her French bread. Lying back in the bed, she closed her eyes and patted her stomach.

“That was sinfully good. The only thing missing was a glass of wine.”

Alex laughed. “Soon, Liv, but, first, we’ve got to get you home. I ran into Doctor Jansen on my way in. He said you could go home tomorrow.”

Olivia’s eyes popped open. “Really? You’re not teasing me, are you, Alex?”

“I’d never tease you about something like that.” Alex moved to the side of the bed and proceeded to dump the hospital food into the empty containers. She’d just placed the Styrofoam boxes back into her bag when the nurse returned to collect the tray.

Pleased that the tray was completely empty, the nurse praised Olivia. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad was it? I’ll let Doctor Jansen know that your appetite has returned.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s definitely back.” Olivia smirked, watching Alex bend over to close the bag; her focus on the firm ass of the ADA.

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Alex had no idea that she was the object of her lover’s scrutiny as she made the decision to wait to inform Olivia about the Grand Jury hearing until after she’d gotten the detective home.

******

“I think we need to find the security guard and question him personally. There’s something we’re missing.” Tracey was obsessed with the hostages’ statements. Kelly had barely been able to wrestle the folders from her lover the night before. She just knew the ADA was going to bring them to bed.

“Tracey, this guy was very detailed. I don’t think he left out a thing. I just wish he knew what happened to the gun.”

“How many times has a witness left something out that they thought was trivial? We’ve got to do something before the hearing. Maybe we can find some evidence to show Branch that he’s making a huge mistake going after Olivia.”

Kelly looked back over the list of hostages, hoping something would jump out at her. Frustrated, she scanned the cross-reference page which detailed each hostage’s name, address, and occupation. Her eyes stopped on a single name.

“Hey, Tracey? Did you know one of the hostages was a retired cop?”

“What? Let me see that.” Kelly handed the page over to the other woman and pointed at the name in question, Sal D’Angelo.

“Kelly, get the security guard on the phone and set up an interview. Then, I want you to find out everything you can on this D’Angelo.”

The assistant grabbed for the nearby phone and punched in the guard’s number just as Alex Cabot slammed the receiver down on her home phone.

“Damn it! What good is it to have the direct number to all the ADA’s offices if you get a busy signal?”

Olivia patted the cushion beside her. “Alex, come over here and keep me company. You probably shouldn’t be talking to Kibre anyway.”

The blonde huffed and walked over towards the sofa. Moving to the nearby ottoman, she pushed it towards Olivia. “Raise your legs. You need to keep your feet elevated.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Alex, I was shot in the shoulder, not the foot.”

The detective looked up to see the classic pissed-off Cabot pose; hands on her hips, narrowed eyes, raised eyebrows, and pursed lips. Deciding not to make matters worse, Olivia reluctantly lifted her legs and allowed her lover to push the padded seat under her calves. The position actually did feel better, but there was no way the brunette was going to admit it to the other woman.

“Now, will you please sit?” Olivia pleaded, patting the couch a little harder than before.

Maintaining her upset mood, but taking care not to jostle her lover, Alex plopped down next to Olivia. “This has to be politically motivated. Branch must be thinking about running for office. Why else would he be after you?”

“Alex, he’s just covering his tracks. With the recent articles in the Times demanding better control over the police department, Branch has to be sure that he placates the media.”

“Well, I’d rather he go after someone else.”

Olivia took her lover’s hand. “Me, too. But, I’ll be vindicated, and this will all go away in a few weeks. It was a good shoot, Alex.”

“I know. I just wish they’d found the second guy’s gun.”

Olivia sat straight up, grimacing at the pain that shot through her. “What?”

******

A smile split Kelly’s face as she stepped into the elevator. She could’ve kissed Chris when he handed over the information on D’Angelo, only she knew he’d get the wrong impression and Tracey would probably kill her.

She strode from the elevator, lengthening her stride in her quest to fill the ADA in on the retired cop’s past; however, she stopped in the doorway when she spied the upset blonde standing in front of her lover’s desk.

“Damn it, Tracey. You’ve got to find a way to stop this Grand Jury hearing, or at the very least, postpone it until after Olivia’s made a full recovery.”

“Alex, Branch would have my ass if I made any sort of concession on this one. The media is already looking over my shoulder, and speaking of which, I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

A rare look of defeat crossed the blonde’s face, and she moved to a nearby chair. “Tracey, you’ve got to find some way to make this all disappear. We both know Olivia didn’t shoot an unarmed man. We need to find the gun.”

Before Tracey could once again point out that Alex’s presence wasn’t helping the detective’s case, the sound of someone clearing their throat caused her to look over at the door, and Alex slumped in her chair, tracking the ADA’s line of sight.

“I’ve got something,” Kelly offered, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

Temporarily forgetting her visitor, Tracey welcomed the possibility of good news. “Please tell me you’ve found the gun.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I know who’s got it.”

Alex jumped from her seat. “Who? Who set her up, Kelly?”

Tracey held up her hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Kelly, hold your tongue, and Alex, you have to leave.”

“I’m entitled to know what you’ve found.” Alex stood her ground.

“On what grounds?”

“As Olivia’s attorney and on the grounds of discovery.”

Tracey glared at the blonde ADA. “Alex, you’re not Olivia’s attorney.”

Alex glared back. “I am until she gets one.”

Kelly watched as two of the most stubborn women she knew squared off. Knowing, neither one would give in; she stepped further into the room and made a quick decision. She didn’t see any problem sharing a bit of information and, besides, maybe Alex could shed some new light on the situation.

“Sal D’Angelo has been shooting off his mouth.”

Alex turned on her heel. “Sal D’Angelo? Where have I heard that name before?”

“Alex, leave.”

“Probably from Olivia.”

“I told you.”

The three voices answered simultaneously and, Kelly finally noticed the previously quiet figure sitting on the couch, the white sling a prominent fixture set against the red shirt and the olive skin.

Alex ignored the assistant district attorneys and focused on Olivia. “You did?”

Olivia adjusted her sling and nodded. “He’s a cop I had some words with when the Special Victims Unit first got underway. He made some derogatory remarks about a hooker which we later found out to be untrue; the part about the hooker, I mean. D’Angelo’s a bigoted asshole.”

Kelly added her two cents. “Those were Chris’ exact words. It seems D’Angelo had always shot off his mouth and gotten away with it, but after that incident with you and Stabler, he got passed over for every promotion he went after. Word is he holds you responsible.”

Tracey stood and walked around the desk, glancing from woman to woman to woman. “Am I the only one who thinks this entire conversation is inappropriate? We simply cannot have this discussion. Alex, you and Olivia need to leave.”

******

Later the same evening, Tracey stirred her famous sauce while Kelly placed the spaghetti in the boiling water and Alex sliced the bread. Olivia watched from her perch at the bar, amazed that the three women were able to stay out of each other’s way in the small space.

“Okay, so we know that D’Angelo has the gun. Now, we just need to figure out how to make him give up the location.” Alex began as she slathered the bread with butter and garlic.

Tracey took a taste of her red sauce, frowned, and added a pinch of sweet basil. “We’re assuming he has the gun. No one’s actually heard him say the words.”

Kelly gave the spaghetti a turn with her spoon. “He’s told his buddies that he’d finally got back at the Benson bitch. What other proof do you need, Tracey?”

“Well, the gun would be nice, but I think I can pacify Branch if we can get him on tape admitting he took the weapon.”

Alex agreed. “I think you’re right, Tracey. Branch would be a fool to go after Olivia if the possibility existed that another cop, even an ex-cop, set her up. The publicity would be ten times worse than if he just dropped the case.”

Olivia finally piped up. “I’ve talked to the guys. They’re willing to man the truck and the sting if we can figure out how we want to go about setting D’Angelo up.”

“According to Chris’ information, he goes for blue-eyed, ditzy blondes. I think I should be the one to wear the wire; I could play ditzy,” Alex stated, placing the bread into the oven.

“Well, first of all, D’Angelo knows who you are, Alex, and secondly, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you be alone with that asshole.” Olivia responded in a voice so calm and steady, both Tracey and Kelly looked over to watch Alex’s volatile reaction.

The blonde simply walked over to her lover and smiled, placing a gentle kiss on Olivia’s lips. “I know; I just had to try.”

Tracey’s jaw dropped, and Kelly smiled. “I could do it.”

“Absolutely not, no way, no how; Branch would fire your ass, and you’d never get another job.” Tracey immediately came out of her stupor, crossing her arms and daring her lover to argue.

Kelly laughed aloud. “I just wanted to see what you’d say. Besides, Chris said D’Angelo likes leggy blondes.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with your legs,” Tracey protested, and then added a little more quietly, “but you’re still not going to play the part.”

The timer beeped, alerting the women that the pasta and bread were ready. In perfect synchronization, Olivia watched, once again in amazement, as the other women went through the various actions of preparing the meal. Soon, they were all seated at the table, enjoying the fruits of their labor.

“Okay, let’s think about this for a minute. We need someone who’s blonde and blue-eyed, has legs that go on forever, is smart and cagey, knows what questions to ask, and can play the part of a ditzy blonde. Where in the hell are we going to find someone like that?” Kelly pondered aloud, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

Tracey and Alex looked up at the same time and smiled at each other.

******

The doors to the van slid open, revealing four women; two blondes and two brunettes. Munch smiled when he spotted the one wearing the sling. “Olivia, you’re looking good. Come over here and have a seat.”

Cragen stood and motioned for his detective to take his spot, but Olivia held up her hand and sat on the bench seat towards the back of the van. Alex scooted next to her lover while Tracey and Kelly squeezed tightly next to the pair.

“Captain, what’s the status?” Olivia asked, forcing herself not to lean into her lover. Having her captain know about her relationship with Alex was one thing, showing him was a completely different matter.

“Elliott’s in place at the bar, and Fin is acting as bartender. D’Angelo arrived just a few minutes ago, so he’s just started on his drinks. Fin is making them extra strong. Now, we just need a leggy blonde to complete the picture.”

Before Munch could add his usual tasteless comment, three raps sounded on the side of the van, and a beat later, the door slid open. A red high-heeled shoe led the way, followed by a firm, dancer-like calf. Munch whistled aloud as he watched a well-defined thigh enter next. The long, sexy leg ended underneath a very short, black leather skirt as the rest of the woman finally stepped into view, her ensemble completed with a tight-low cut blouse.

Tracey was the first to find her voice. “Dear lord, Serena. If you’d been wearing that outfit when you told Branch you were a lesbian, he’d have never believed you. He probably would’ve fallen out of his chair laughing.”

A raspy voice came from behind the blonde. “Or died of a heart attack.”

“Abbie! Get your ass in here.” Olivia grinned widely.

The tall attorney ducked her head and moved next to Serena. Cragen smiled, and stepped over to hug the former ADA while Munch looked on with a grin. The newcomers took a few minutes to greet the others until Tracey refocused the group.

“Okay, we can have our little get together later, but right now, we’ve got a big fish to reel in.”

Alex agreed. “Tracey’s right. After D’Angelo tells Serena where he’s hidden the gun, we’ll have a victory party at my place. But, first things first, Serena, are you ready?”

The blonde smacked her gum and raised her voice a couple of octaves. “Where do you want me, Sweetcheeks?”

Munch couldn’t resist. “Right here on my lap, Blondie.”

Abbie glared at the detective, eliciting laughter from the rest of the group. Serena took it all in stride and adjusted her skirt and blouse as Abbie held out her hand and took the mike from Munch. There was no way she was going to let anyone else wire her lover.

“Seriously, Alex. I’m ready for this guy.”

“Lightening your hair was a nice touch,” Alex smiled at her friend’s willingness to go the distance to help Olivia.

Cragen lifted his hand to his ear to better hear Elliott’s signal. “Okay, Serena. You’re on. Elliott said D’Angelo is getting loud and boisterous.”

“Elliott said boisterous?” Olivia asked in surprise.

“Um, well, not really. He actually said the son of a bitch is getting cocky.”

Olivia smiled. “That’s my partner.”

Tracey peeked out the van door. “Okay, the coast is clear. You can sneak out now without anyone seeing you, Serena.”

The blonde made sure the mike was secured and stepped towards the door. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the van and walked to the entrance with an exaggerated swing to her hips. Soon, she was gone from view.

Tracey retook her seat, and the van became eerily silent. Only Munch and Cragen had any inkling as to what was transpiring inside the bar.

Serena narrowed her eyes and looked for her prey. Alex had sent her a photo so she knew exactly who she was looking for. Spotting the arrogant bastard, she sidled over to the empty stool to his right. Fin glanced her way and nodded slightly.

“I can’t believe I got a ticket for parking in a no tow zone. I was just there for a minute,” Serena whined, making a point of twirling towards D’Angelo before crossing her long legs. The former cop zoomed in on the sexy gams and smiled.

The pair made small talk for awhile as Fin supplied D’Angelo with more strong drinks. The guy was practically drooling down the front of Serena’s blouse, and she had to stop herself from kicking him in the balls on several occasions. Finally, she had him exactly where she wanted him.

“You know. If that traffic cop had been a man, I wouldn’t have gotten at ticket. Damn woman cop. Women shouldn’t be cops.”

“No kidding. They can be a real pain in the ass, but sometimes, if you wait long enough, you can pay them back for all the pain and heartache they put you through.”

Serena sighed. “Yeah, but it’ll never happen to me. I’ll never be able to pay that bitch back.”

D’Angelo leaned in closer. “I really stuck it to a woman detective. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t end up behind bars.”

Trying to keep her skin from crawling, Serena put her arm around the drunken bastard. “Really? What did you do?”

The former cop glanced around to make sure no one else appeared to be listening as he filled Serena in on the entire story, including grabbing the gun when the others were attending to Olivia.

“Wow that was a good one. I hope you got rid of it.”

The asshole grinned. “Nope. You’ll never believe where I stored it.”

Serena couldn’t believe her luck. Taking her time, she purred, “Where?”

“It’s in my locker at my old precinct. They never reassigned it to anyone else. Can you believe it? The cops are looking for a gun that’s right under their noses.”

In the van, Munch lifted his mike, “Elliott, it’s in his locker at his old precinct.”

Elliott downed his drink and threw some bills on the bar. Turning, he walked from the bar, but the moment he cleared the door, he sprinted to his car.

******

The party was in full swing by the time Tracey arrived. She winked at her lover and threw her coat on a nearby chair. The minute she joined the others, the room became completely still as everyone held their breath, waiting for the ADA to report on her meeting with Branch. Tracey raised her voice for all to hear, despite the deathly silence.

“I’m pleased to announce that all charges have been dropped against Detective Olivia Benson. I absolutely loved watching Branch turn ten shades of white. I actually thought he was going to pass out for a minute there.”

A sigh of relief swept the room, and a tearful Alex pulled her lover into a hug, taking care not to put any pressure on Olivia’s wounded shoulder. The detective held her crying lover and whispered reassurances in her ear. “It’s over, Alex. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The quiet moment was quickly broken when Serena stepped from the bedroom wearing a button-up shirt and jeans. She took one look at the smiling faces and knew their plan had been successful.

Alex stepped away from her lover and walked over to her friend. “Serena, I don’t know how to thank you.” The two blondes embraced each other as Abbie moved in next to Olivia.

“She really pulled it off. We’re going to have to come up with a way to thank you all,” Olivia said quietly, her voice wavering slightly.

Knowing that everyone was watching and knowing how much Olivia hated to show emotion in front of anyone except for Alex, Abbie carefully placed her arm around the detective and spoke loud enough for all to hear.

“Well, you’ve already thanked me in spades.”

Olivia looked at the tall Texan and frowned. “We have? How so?”

Abbie wiggled her eyebrows. “Serena’s promised me an entire night with a ditzy blonde, complete with the red heels and leather skirt.”

The rest of the room howled with laughter as Abbie made her way over to her lover, and Tracey took the opportunity to move closer to Olivia.

Leaning towards the detective, she whispered, “Do you think we can talk our blondes into the same thing?”

Olivia looked over at Alex and smiled widely. She knew exactly who Serena had borrowed her ditzy blonde outfit from, and she was certain that Alex wouldn’t mind loaning it out to Kelly either.

Smirking, she replied, “I think that can be arranged.” The detective noted the size of the grin forming on Tracey’s face, and she chuckled quietly as she watched the ADA strut over towards Kelly.

Alex returned to Olivia’s side and placed an arm around her lover’s waist. “We have the best friends in the world. Today was just a case in point. Even though we don’t see each other very often, it’s nice to know we can rely on our friends when we really need them.”

Olivia looked around the room at the smiling faces. She couldn’t agree more with Alex’s assessment. Case in point or not, she knew that friends like these were hard to come by, and she was extremely grateful that she’d been blessed.

Placing her hand at Alex’s back, Olivia guided her lover into their circle of friends.

Bebe at the Tony Awards 2007

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 22:47:06 GMT

She sat near Sam Waterston! Go go Law & Order. ;)

Clip of Bebe and David Hyde Pierce presenting

Episode 1x11 - Day - Clips

Tue, 29 May 2007 03:33:37 GMT

I decided to ~~copy Angie~~ employ YouTube to celebrate why I love Trial by Jury so much. Here are a couple of scenes from Day. Not all the great scenes, like Olivet and Olivia and Angela Lansbury. Go re-watch!

Feel free to use them for inspiration, icons, fiction, analysis and criticism, or just enjoy the cancelled goodness. In this episode, Bebe wears jeans, and Amy wears that open shirt thing.

The famous cupcake scene.

Scene one.

Scene two.

Closing arguments.

Challenge 2.6: Roxie Rocks Broadway

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 23:37:13 GMT

Challenge 2.6: Roxie Rocks Broadway

As you may know already, Bebe Neuwirth's run in Chicago has been extended. And it's spring! Will Amy come to see her? Will Bebe see Law & Order filming on the streets of New York and feel nostalgic? Or free?

Maybe Kelly gets Tracey theatre tickets for her birthday. Crime or protests could erupt on the Great White Way at any minute. It's the trial of the century! He had it coming.

* * *

Have a prompt or idea for this challenge? Respond in comments. Want to write fiction for this challenge? Create a new post in tbj_ladies with a link to this entry.

Reminder: General fiction, het, slash, crossovers, alternative universe, and real person stories are welcome here as long as it involves one of our ladies.

Fluff - Right Angles

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 00:43:31 GMT

Title: Right Angles
Author: Ann
Fandom: Law and Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Kelly/Tracey
Written as part of the P & P 1001 Nights Challenge – geometry
Disclaimer: Law & Order: Trial by Jury and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf

Click Here for Math Fluff

Fluff - The Green-Eyed Monster

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 22:19:33 GMT

Title: The Green-Eyed Monster
Author: Ann
Fandom: Law and Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Tracey/Kelly
Disclaimer: No ownership, simply fluff.
AN: This was written in response to a prompt by ralst: Chris asks Kelly out on a date.

Fake Cut to Fic

Challenge 2.4: Crossover Court Cases, Challenge 2.5: New Years Eve

Fri, 22 Dec 2006 02:09:11 GMT

I'm sorry it's been so long since the last challenge, folks! Thanksgiving got away from me. Thanks to darandkerry and shonn for keeping things going and presenting such gorgeous stories. Since I'm a slacker, and since we all may need time to escape our families and hunch over computers in the next few weeks (or just me?), I have two challenges to present.

Challenge 2.4: Crossover Court Cases

What celebrity guest character is going to pass through the halls of justice? Perhaps Greg House is on trial for murder. Mybe Samantha Carter can't reveal anything. Perhaps a prominent lawyer or cop has a secret to protect all the way to jail.

Challenge 2.5: New Years Eve

Wild drunken lawyer parties and quiet nights at home in front of the television and everything in between. New Years always has a special role in New York.

* * *

Have a prompt or idea for this challenge? Respond in comments. Want to write fiction for this challenge? Create a new post in tbj_ladies with a link to this entry.

Reminder: General fiction, het, slash, crossovers, alternative universe, and real person stories are welcome here as long as it involves one of our ladies.