The Secrets Vignette Challenge:

"Pick a fandom. Pick a character. Describe a moment where that character discovers a secret. Any fandom, any character, any secret. 500 words exactly (and yes, you can do it!)."

From therealjae's livejournal site, which doesn't seem to show up on this site. E-mail me if you want the address – there are literally hundreds of responses.

This round robin began its life as a simple entry to therealjae's Secrets Vignette Challenge. Cirocco answered the challenge with an entry in which Lennie Briscoe discovers something about Ed Green. Cassatt asked if she could do a follow-up from Ed's point of view. Then Tobias Charity jumped in with an entry from Jack McCoy, soon LynK13 added an entry from Anita Van Buren, and before we knew it we had a bouncing baby round robin on our hands.

Due to life suddenly whacking many of us in the face really, really hard, the round robin was left unfinished at chapter 18 for many months until Cassatt and Cirocco finally had the breathing space to finish it off. And now it's all done.

C'est tous, mes amis. Hope you enjoyed the ride as much as we four did :)

Lennie, Part I

by Cirocco (500 words)

Well, DUH.

Yeah, I know. Real eloquent, Lennie. But seriously, that's been my opinion on the subject since yesterday night. My daughter Julia says that whenever she's amazed at just how dense her old man can get.

I'm kind of amazed myself, actually. I mean... four years. I never clued in to what are pretty obvious clues, now that I think about it. And I'm a detective, have been for years. You'd think that would mean something. You'd be wrong.

Duh.

He never talked about his personal life, so I thought he was just kinda private. I knew he was single, so I teased him about it and implied he probably had an active nightlife. I mean, I partnered with Mike Logan. Do that for a couple years, and you're bound to think it's a law of nature that a young single guy in New York probably spends most of his off-hours bedding every available female around. It didn't occur to me to think there could be any other reason for that privacy.

There were other clues too, now that I think about it. A comment here, a look there. Unusual ease with some situations, unusual discomfort in others.

I dropped by his place unexpectedly last night, even though I know he doesn't like that - he's given me the Ed-annoyed look the two other times I've done it in the last four years. But it couldn't be helped. I was literally in his neighbourhood when I realized that our new vic's oh-so-forgiving ex-wife had been lying through her teeth that morning. She told us she'd seen him Thursday at nine, in his office. His e-mail account showed he'd been logged in from home at that time. God, I can't believe I even know what any of that means. I guess my last two partners and Julia have somehow managed to jam something of technology into my head.

So I got all excited and dropped by to see if Ed wanted to go pick up the ex for questioning.

If his answering machine has one of those time-stamp things, and Ed remembers that I looked a little off when he came out of the washroom (I'm sure I did), he's plenty bright enough to figure out that I heard the message that came in. I wonder if he'll say anything. Something tells me he won't.

The toilet flushed as the call came in, so I know Ed didn't hear the message himself. Didn't hear a man's voice on his machine, saying words that, if you were really, really naïve, you could interpret another way - I mean, I've heard black guys use that term of endearment with each other when I knew it didn't mean anything. But the tone really couldn't be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

"Ed, it's me. I'm... I'm sorry, babe. You were right, I had no right to... look, I'm really sorry. Gimme a call, please. I- I really wanna work this out."

Ed, Part II

by Cassatt (500 words)

Cassatt, whose L&O fanfic website can be found

wrote this as a response piece to Plain Sight Exception. Ed's point of view, also 500 words. She kindly gave me permission to post her response here. Thanks, Cassatt!

jael: Lookit! More Slashable!Ed!

Lennie keeps staring at me. I catch him, and in that split second, we both know what we're each thinking. I wonder if he'd be surprised by what else, exactly, is going through my head today. Then I wonder if I'd be able to tell that Lennie was surprised. The most he'd do would be to lift his eyebrows.

Four years. For four years I've been able to keep my personal life strictly behind closed doors. My doors. I've gone along with the assumptions, just like I've been doing since I joined the force. I've listened to Lennie moan that he's not as young as I am, doesn't have the opportunities that I do to have sex with every young woman we see in Manhattan. Like I can just snap my fingers and women come running. So to speak.

Then last night, man, last night was so.... What the hell was that, anyway? A twist of fate? A shift in the ozone? I'd just gotten home, ten minutes before Lennie was there, buzzing to get in. I'd had a fuck of an evening, on top of a fuck of a week. And that's not fuck in a good way, either. I mean, Barry had just been pushing, and pushing me, until I'd finally broken down and told him the truth. I couldn't take it any longer. So I go to pee, just to get my head on straight, just so I could be The Detective, and not someone who'd just had a fight with his lover. I come out, and Lennie looks like, well, like his eyes can't blink or something. I don't put it together until I'm back home again, and hear Barry's message. My fuck of an evening had turned into a fuck of a night.

Four years, and then some. It's not that I don't trust Lennie, because I do -- with my life. I don't even think that he'd have a hard time with it, if I gave it to him straight (I know, I know, but how else can you say it?). That's not the thing that keeps me silent, and either way, I think silence is what he expects. Hell, it's what I've been doing all along, so why change now?

No, my problem is that if I open up, then we'll be doing the buddy talking thing again, only this time it'll really be about my personal life. Not that I'd mind, but given the particular circumstances of my life as it stands -- it could be... difficult. Because what's the one profession that Lennie loathes? Who's the symbol of that entire profession, in Lennie's mind?

That person is the reason that I fought with Barry. That person has been dancing around my space for months now, sending me vibes that I can't quite figure out. I only know one thing. I'm dying to do just that. To try something, anything. To make a move. How can I do that with Lennie watching?

Jack, Part III

by Tobias Charity (599 words)

So this started as a response to a challenge, became a response to a response, then, with this addition, became a sort of impromptu round robin. Which is hilarious, because somebody had asked Cassatt and I to "continue the series" and my immediate thought was, "But how? It's got nowhere to go."

Bzzt! Wrong! Here's Tobias Charity's answer to "Where do we go from here?" Jack's point of view, 599 words. Thanks a million for permission to post here!

The great thing about words is that they can be interpreted in so many different ways. "I didn't do it" can mean anything from "I didn't do it" to "I didn't do it quite how you described I did it." Body language goes a long way towards how those words are interpreted, as well; the easy half smile a detective exhibits when he suggests looking further into a guilty suspect's actions on any given night may provide an awful lot of fodder for one's imagination.

My imagination doesn't seem to need much more fodder at this moment. Every look, every sideways tilt of the head, every brush of his hand against mine has an ulterior motive to me. It's ridiculous, of course, to think that he could possibly have any ideas regarding me, but still I entertain myself every night thinking of that possibility. I tell myself that when he comes by to work on testimony, it's only to work on testimony. I tell myself that when I drop by the precinct to check on open cases, it's only to check on open cases. Not to get an eyeful of him in those suits that hang so well on his tall frame, and maybe wonder what he'd look like out of those suits.

If he were a woman, either I wouldn't be having this problem or I'd already have approached him. The fact that we work together fairly often wouldn't have stopped me; it never has in the past. The fact that he's at least a quarter-century younger wouldn't have made a difference; again, that's never stopped me before. Even with his career as a cop, I could've made adaptations; I'm used to slinking around and not being exactly forthcoming as to what my current romantic interests are. The boys in blue aren't well known for welcoming their alternative-minded brethren with open arms; in fact, most are positively hostile regarding gays in their midst. But then again, the prosecutor's office isn't exactly draped in rainbow flags, and my wild oats have never grown to bear any fruits of gossip in those particular hallways. No one's that careful, though--a slip of the tongue and all of a sudden you're "Jack McCoy, the Gay DA," a label I was not eager to bear.

The thing which has stopped me so far from making any propositions is the fact that I'm not quite certain what I want from him. As of late, I've had very few one-night stands, even regarding men. I'm too...dignified (we will not say old) to go bed hopping anymore. I'm strongly attracted to him physically; there's no doubt of that. His wit and his humor, as well as his obvious intelligence, make him even more attractive. However, I'm not sure if a serious relationship is a better idea than a one-night stand.

The thing is, I'm defeating myself before I even get started. One night stand, relationship--I don't even know if he's interested and already I'm planning how to end our nonexistent...thing. One day at a time, etcetera.

The thing to do was to provoke a reaction. Any reaction. Dropping hints wasn't working; despite his detective status, he apparently wasn't that good at picking up subtleties. I'd have to be a little more overt.

Carpe diem. Seize the day; each one's getting closer to your last.

I picked up the phone and dialed the precinct and his extension, and involuntarily sucked in a breath when he answered the phone.

"Green."

"Detective, it's McCoy. Would you mind coming down to my office after you get off work today?"