Special thanks to Lynn and Teyerin for their undying encouragement. T. thanks for being such a great sounding board as I muddled my way through this one!

This one picks up not long after Cold Feet, Warm Hearts. Be warned: If you don't have an interest in original characters interacting within the L and O world, this story might not be for you. Those of you that have read my stuff before...you know the characters. This one has a bit more dream sequences like I tried in CF,WH as well as more backstory for Brooke. Speaking of dream sequences, here comes one now...

"Ah geez,"she had said to the empty room while she looked out her office window, upon spotting her assistant coming across the concourse, with a man she knew would be trouble the moment she saw him.

ADA Jake Cohen was engaged in an intense conversation with a lanky man clad in a grey pin stripe suit, part of a shiny silver chain dangling from the pocket of his vest. As the pair moved closer, Brooke Malinowski could see the each of the men was smiling broadly, the stranger patting the younger man on the back, as Cohen opened the glass door.

Damn it Jake, you were only supposed to pick the guy up from the ferry not become friends for life, she thought angrily. Talk about sleeping with the enemy…

When the door opened, Malinowski had continued to type.

"Madame Prosecutor, you have a visitor."

"Thanks Cohen," she said her eyes deliberately focused on the computer screen. "You've got arraignments in twenty minutes, why don't you head out? I'll be with our visitor momentarily."

Cohen nodded at his supervisor before meeting the good natured smile of the other man.

"Help yourself to some java," Cohen said, pointing to the pot across the room, before extending his hand. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you after I get back from court."

The stranger nodded and thanked Cohen for his hospitality. Malinowski smiled at the faint southern drawl, its sound strangely reassuring in it's whimsical tone.

"What's ya workin' on there, counselor," he asked as the door closed, as he perched himself of the edge of the desk.

"A motion that needs immediate attention," she said hitting the send key as she removed the black rimmed glasses, turning towards him. "Why don't you have a seat? You'll find the chair is much more comfortable than my desk. Unless you'd like to grab that coffee before we get down to business?"

"I think I'll take the seat, but I'll hold off on the coffee," he said as he eased into the vinyl office chair. "No offense ma'am, but under the circumstances, I can't help but assume declining' your hospitality would be the a most healthy choice for a vistin' Fed, like myself."

"Really and why is that?'

The stranger chuckled - the deep mellow sound of a tenor toned voice - as his green eyes sparkled with amusement.

"My dear Miss-"he started, pausing as he moved the name plate at the center of the desk slightly back.

"Mal-in-ow-ski, I'm sure about now,you're ready to do whatever you have to keep this case within your jurisdiction. Maybe resortin' to filin' a motion you're all but gaurenteed of losin' or misplacin' a suspect or two in an attempt to buy yourself more time ...possibily even slippin' the old so and so of a Fed charged with the task of taken said case, a non lethel dose of somethin' unpleasant to post phone the inevitable."

Malinowski fought to hold her laughter in check, as she leaned back in her chair, giving the man an appraising glare.

"Mister…?"

"The name is Prescott, ma'am-"

"Mr. Prescott, apparently the paronoia your office is all ready famous for has taken as hold of you personally. Also, for the record, I'm an assistant district attorney, not to be confused with anyones 'dear'. And it's Ms. Malinowski, not Miss."

Prescott reached across the desk, hand extended as he bowed slightly.

"A pleasure, Ms. Malinowski. Samuel Prescott federal prosecutor for the eastern district."

Malinowski put her hand in his, unable not to notice the feel of the warm, dry hand that shook hers with refreshing firmness - not the dead fish grip so many men seemed to favor when shaking the hand of a woman - yet not using a hand shake being used as a silent display of dominance either. Holding her hand a moment more than needed, he waited until she met his gaze to smoothly let go of her.

"You're early, Mr. Prescott. I wasn't expecting you for another half hour. I haven't finishing copying the files for you to take back with you."

"No rush on that. Actually, my de-,"he stopped to correct himself as he gave her an amused wink. "Ms. Malinowski - you know that really is quite a mouth full - in'nt? Mind if I just call you "Mal" for short?"

Malinowski chuckled.

"Mr. Prescott, I don't think we will be in contact long enough for pet names - do you?"

"Well, now that's not entirely true, Mal. As I explained to your Mr. Cohen, my superior and I were reviewin' the case file this morning . You and your office have done an outstandin' job laying the ground work for the case. Seems to me, there's enough glory - as well as work - left to go around both of our offices."

Malinowski leaned forward, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip.

"What are you saying, Prescott?"

"I'm sayin' how would you feel about second chairin' for me on this case?"

Malinowski stared into the eyes that held an amused 'got ya' look that made her flush. Her cheeks glowing in part at being caught off guard, also due to the realization she was staring - taken with the lightest shade of green she'd seen in a pair of eyes…such clear, direct, inviting eyes…

"Brooke? Hey, wake up," he said with a mixture of concern and playfulness, as he gently rubbed her shoulders.

The former Brooke Malinowski lazily opened her eyes, slightly startled, as she awoke from her dream.

Jack McCoy smiled reassuringly down at his lover .

"It must have been some dream. Should I ask?"

Brooke Prescott shook her head as she kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Nothing new…just a variation on the time," she said as she glanced at the alarm clock behind McCoy as she started to get up. "This time it was first day we met."

McCoy nodded. He knew she'd been tossing and turning enough in the last month that she had renewed her prescription for sleeping pills. The pills bringing with them the onset of vivid dreams. The reoccurring theme of the dreams being her life with the late Sam Prescott.

"God Jack, this must be getting old for you," she said uncomfortably as his hand reached out, gently pulling her back into an embrace. "The last thing you want to hear, first thing every morning you're with me is-"

McCoy pressed a finger to her lips as she settled back down beside him.

"I knew what I was getting into when we first got together - it was common knowledge that you and Sam were devoted to each other. I'd be a fool to feel threatened by a man that is no longer in you life. Besides,with Valdimir Valenski's appeal being decided, it's only natural have you'd have Sam on your mind."

Prescott sighed deeply as she hugged him. She knew he was right. The moment she had heard the news - that the man who had ordered the hit on her late husband had managed to get his latest appeal heard in federal court - it had all come back to her. The threats from the head of the biggest drug cartel on the east coast, her husband's lifeless body in her arms on the steps of the courts house, the funeral the feds had talked her into having as closed casket to avoid the likihood of a reporter sneaking in and getting pictures of the fallen federal prosecutor…

"I swear you have the patience of a saint," she said softly as she looked up into his warm dark eyes. "Listen, Cohen is going to be here in an hour for brunch. I really should get-"

McCoy shook his head as grinned up at her.

"Not so fast," he said as he ran his hands slowly down her back. "Jake said ten - on a weekend coming from Williams place in the Hampton's - you know it's going to take him at least another half hour with the back up on the bridge. That gives this saint plenty of time to pursue some sinful activities…"

Both of them laughed softly as McCoy leaned over to kiss her passionately, as he smoothly rolled Prescott on to her back.

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"See, I told you we should have taken the long way in," Cohen joked to his companion, as he unbuttoned the first two buttons on Prescott's green and pink plaid shirt, re-buttoning them in the correct sequence. "Maybe we could circle the block a couple more times to give you and Jack a chance to …get the buttons in the right holes."

The man beside Cohen turned several shades of red, as he chaistizingly nudged his lover.

Prescott pushed his hands aside as she opened the door for the two men to enter the house.

"Ignore him William - you of all people know - Cohen here needs to get his mind out of the gutter," she said smacking Cohen good naturedly on the arm "I'll give you a hole to put a button in…"

The pair followed Prescott into the kitchen where McCoy was emptying a frying pan full of scrambled eggs on to a platter. A three men shook hands, Prescott filled two more mugs with coffee, handing them to the pair.

"Brooke, you really should have let us bring something," William Prescott began as he looked over the fixings on the dining room table. "You shouldn't have done this all yourselves - next weekend you two have let us return the favor."

"Sounds fine by me - although your keeping Cohen here occupied- is payback enough for me. Jack?"

McCoy nodded in agreement as he set the platter on the table and the four took their places around the oval walnut table.

"Brooke and I are going to a dinner for the Trial Lawyers Association next Saturday night out that way, so brunch should work out well."

"Really," former congressman William Davenport chimed in. "Is that the dinner Arthur Branch is scheduled to speak at?"

"The very one," McCoy acknowledged as he passed the tray of assorted fruits to Cohen.

"You know Jack," Davenport continued. "If you plan to go after the nomination for DA next term, this would be a good event to begin approaching supporters…"

McCoy shrugged his shoulders, knowing Davenport was right, but still not ready to face the decision of whether or not to seek a new term as DA of New York county. A term that would mean officially entering the world of state politics, starting with courting supporters to contribute funds to his re election campaign.

"We'll see," he said as he stood. "Forgot the get the paper. Be right back."

Cohen patted Prescott's hand as McCoy went out the front door.

"Did you keep your appointment with Dr. Bishop?"

Davenport looked at the pair inquiringly, as Prescott shook her head.

"I've been having some trouble with my prescription," she explained as she reached for the butter. "Got stuck with Judge Ellis in that last motion hearing while you were down in arraignments. But I called the doctor and left a message about the dreams. Hopefully, he'll call back today."

"Listen Brooke, this isn't something to play around with," Cohen said seriously. "It took you years to get your life together after Sam died. You can't let this Valenski thing tear it all open again."

"Jake, I know that. It's not like I'm obsessing," she said firmly. "Everything is good. With work. With Jack. I'm sure once the judge makes his ruling-"

Prescott stopped abruptly, seeing the tight expression on McCoy's face as he returned, newspaper open in his hands.

"Jack what is it," Davenport asked.

Cohen and Prescott exchanged knowing glances as Prescott unconsciously dropped the butter knife.

McCoy took his seat beside Prescott. He set the newspaper on the table reaching for her, the headline : Valenski Vindicated, at the top of the front page.