Happy Friday :)

Adam was less than thrilled when he told him the news later that evening. The older man had looked at him as though he had lost his mind when Ben had explained that he had had no other option than to have Ann Madsen arrested.

"I was required..."

"Don't tell me it's required," Adam said, shaking his head.

"She perjured herself and destroyed this case!"

"Is that what it's about? Or is it about you looking foolish in front of a jury?"

The words stung slightly too much. "It's felony perjury!"

"How many felony perjury indictments did we file last year?"

"She lied!" Ben snapped, ignoring the question. "Without her testimony there's no motive, there's no link to Green and no corroboration of Rostov!"

"The total number of felony perjury indictments we filed last year...was four! And we do this to hardened criminals! Not innocent bystanders!"

"If she lied she's no longer innocent! And these people don't go away."

"And are you prepared to testify against her in front of a judge? Her word against yours?"

"And Claire's."

Adam paused and then let out a half-laugh of disbelief. "You really want to prosecute Ann Madsen."

"If I have to but maybe a few nights in Rikers...will change her mind."

He wanted to believe it, tried to believe it the whole of that evening and over the course of the weekend. Peter and Pamela were spending it in Hartford with Laura so he found himself alone with nothing else to think about except the choice he had made.

Well, not quite nothing else.

When he had gotten back to the apartment that night and checked the answering machine, there had been two hang ups, an hour apart. The first time, there was nothing whatsoever to identify who might have been calling. The second time, he could swear he heard a sudden intake of breath before the call was terminated.

Evelyn.

All these miles apart and he would still recognise the sound of her anywhere.

He lifted the receiver, prepared to dial back the call, then he stopped. It would be the middle of the night in London after all and he knew she would hardly welcome the intrusion, even if she had been the one to call first.

He poured himself a scotch and sat on the couch, the television on in front of him but the sound muted. Ann Madsen would be settling into her first night in Rikers. Her first taste of what it meant to be on the wrong side. He hoped, no he prayed, that she would see sense.

As he drank, he couldn't help but wonder what Evelyn would have said, what Evelyn would have done in his position. Would she have been as zealous in the quest for truth and justice? Would she have supported his position or would she have told him he was making a huge mistake? He drained the glass, telling himself that it didn't matter what she would have said or done. She wasn't there. She was gone. She had made her choice.

Now he needed to get on with making his.

London

Sunday lunch at Sarah's.

Sometimes, she thought it was the only thing keeping her sane. Once a week, the family congregated to eat, drink and laugh together and it was the one day of the week where Evelyn felt she could relax and be herself, rather than a projection of what she felt she needed to be. Aside from Sarah, Nick and the boys, Nick's parents, his brother, sister-in-law and their teenage daughter came too and in the few weeks since she had been part of the family group, she had grown to like them all very much. They had all welcomed her like a long lost family member and, on Sundays, she felt like she belonged somewhere.

And no-one ever asked her anything. Perhaps they had all been pre-warned by Sarah not to, but it was nice not having to worry about the dreaded questions about her past or why she had decided to move away from New York. They all just accepted that she had and that was all there was to it. It made it easier to push her own troubled thoughts to the back of her mind.

Edward, Lily, little Jack...Ben...they were all still there waiting for her.

Ben most of all.

Wine helped keep them at bay.

She chose not to drink on Sundays. Why, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was because she drank every other day, more than she probably should, and thought it might be beneficial to have a day off. She had quickly realised that a couple of glasses of wine at lunchtime, when she was able to get out of the office, helped set her up more readily for the afternoon. With hindsight, they had probably also helped her to relax a bit more and orgasm more readily last Tuesday evening when she and Alex had wound up, unexpectedly, having sex on her desk. And of course, the seal now well and truly broken, it was the most natural thing in the world to go out drinking again with everyone on Friday night, be one of the last ones left at the end of the evening and end up in his bed.

Three times now they had been intimate and though the act itself had gotten easier, combating the feelings she was left with afterwards didn't. She still felt dead inside, sick from the amount of drink she had consumed...and filled with guilt over having betrayed the man she was still in love with.

You're not together, her inner voice reminded her. It's not like Edward cheating on you. You left Ben. You can have sex with whomever you choose.

"I choose him," she had said to herself, caught in the grip of Saturday's hangover. "I choose Ben. I always choose Ben..." Then she had cried, and spent the rest of the day in bed, wrapped in her duvet, hiding from the reality of her shame and vowing it wouldn't happen again.

"So...tomorrow," Sarah said, as they tucked into the roast. "You and I are going to hit some sights, Evelyn! What do you fancy doing?"

"Oh, whatever you think," Evelyn replied.

"Hmm...Buckingham Palace? Maybe the Tower of London too?"

"Sounds great," she enthused as best she could. "Maybe we'll see Princess Diana."

"I doubt it," Sarah laughed, "but I guess you never know."

"How's work going, Evelyn," Nick's mother asked. "Are you starting to find your feet now?"

"Yes," she lied. "I think so. Everyone's been really helpful, not to mention patient."

"Evelyn's doing great," Sarah chimed in. "I think we'll let her loose on some clients on her own next week. Don't worry," she added on her look. "We'll start off with the easy ones."

"She's defended murderers, Sarah," Nick said, "I'm sure she can manage a few of your clients."

The talk had turned to generalities and Evelyn had found herself zoning out wondering what Ben was doing at that moment. It would be early morning in New York. Maybe he was taking the kids out or maybe he was sitting drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

Maybe he was even thinking about her the way she was thinking about him and wondering if it had indeed been her that had called him, twice, on Friday night.

New York

Ann took a breath and met his gaze across the table. "I can't do it."

It was Sunday evening and after giving her the best part of two days and two nights to think about her position, Ben had called her lawyer, Beth Harris, and asked for a meeting at Rikers. He couldn't help but notice that in the space of those two days, she looked very different to the image she had projected on the stand. Gone was the sharp business suit, the neatly coiffed hair, the perfect makeup...in their place was a prison jumpsuit and a scared expression, the latter of which he was trying not to concentrate too much on.

"Then we are prepared to prosecute you."

"Come on Ben, I don't believe you," Beth butted in. "You'll put her in jail for a year?"

Ben paused. "The penalty for conspiracy to murder is twenty-five to life."

Beth blanched slightly. "You wouldn't."

"This is crazy," Ann gasped. "I didn't have anything to do with it!"

"Because you say so?" He eyeballed her. "Are you protecting Steve Green or yourself?"

"You don't believe that. You're only trying to scare me."

"There's no evidence my client was involved in the death of Harry Renkmeyer."

"If you're innocent and you don't do this, they'll go on killing," he said quietly. "They killed Harry Renkmeyer, they'll kill you."

She shook her head. "Not if I don't testify."

"Really?" He leaned forward, preparing to go in for the kill. "Will you ever go to a movie and not look over your shoulder? Will you ever have a child and be comfortable sending her to school? If you testify, we'll get you a new identity. If you don't, you're on your own." The words were harsh, he knew they were, and yet they needed saying.

Ann stared at him. "I'm not a policeman. I'm not the District Attorney. It's not my job! He can't do this, can he?" She turned wildly to Beth. "I don't have to do this."

Ben met Beth's gaze. She was someone he had known for years, a lawyer full of nothing but integrity. "Don't lie to her," he warned softly.

Beth sighed. She knew he was right. "Ann, I'm an officer of the court. I understand what you're trying to do, but it's improper for me to say it's right."

"You are a citizen," Ben pushed on. "A witness to a crime. You don't do this, the system doesn't work."

"I don't care about the system! I admit I should have been more suspicious of Steve but I don't deserve this. I made a mistake, that's all."

"The mistake you're making, is not telling the truth."

"You really know how to turn the screws," Beth said, ten minutes later as they both signed out in the visitor book. "You know she had nothing to do with that murder. She's terrified of Green and his family and I, for one, don't blame her."

"Her testimony is essential to..."

"Oh get off your moral high horse Ben!" Beth paused. "This isn't like you. Where's the compassion? Ann Madsen is a good person and she doesn't deserve..."

"I have plenty of compassion," he snapped, tired of everyone questioning his decisions. "I have compassion for Harry Rankmeyer's wife and daughter, or have you forgotten about them?"

Beth swung her bag over her shoulder and looked at him with an expression akin to contempt. "Well let's hope for all our sakes that this works out. I'd hate to be in your shoes if it doesn't."

London

"Is there anyone sitting here?"

Evelyn looked up, caught off guard by the sound of a male voice coming from over her shoulder. The owner of the voice was smiling down at her, a beer in his hand, his expression open and friendly. "No," she heard herself reply.

"Good. I was hoping there wasn't. I hate seeing beautiful women drinking alone." He slid into the seat beside her and held out his hand for a formal handshake. "Keith."

"Evelyn."

"Ah...you're not from these shores, are you?"

"No," she admitted, "I'm not."

"American?" She nodded. "Which part?"

"New York."

"Great city, been there a few times myself with work. I'm a banker."

She smiled and sipped her wine as he prattled on, talking about himself and occasionally asking questions about her life that she answered in a banal fashion, half hoping it would put him off and half-hoping it would encourage him.

She had enjoyed spending the day with Sarah, traipsing around the city, marvelling at the palace, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London...all the things she had read about or seen on TV but hadn't ever thought she would see for herself. It had been fun, but it had also reminded her of a conversation she had had with Ben, many months earlier, when they had been considering going on vacation together.

"Adam told me that, with all this vacation time, I should take you away somewhere."

"Really? Where did you have in mind?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"Oh...I don't know...London, Paris, Rome..."

"One day I'll take you all those places, but right now I was thinking more along the lines of somewhere in the United States."

"You don't have to take me anywhere. I'm happy right here with you."

The memory had brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes, that she managed to explain away with the rain and whipping wind, not unusual for May in London so Sarah had informed her. By the time she had got back to the flat later that afternoon, the sky had been dark and ominous, the rain pouring down, the thought of drinking in solitude holding no real appeal.

By the time she and her new friend were leaving the bar together, she was staggering and he was holding onto her, his arms around her waist, their bodies bumping together in a unified show of inebriation. Nothing about the situation was particularly funny and yet she couldn't help but find herself laughing uproariously and letting him kiss her, even though she had no real desire for him to do so and each time his lips met hers or his tongue slid between her teeth, she felt nothing.

His flat wasn't as nice as Alex's, but then she wasn't there to critique the aesthetics.

If only Ben could see me now...she thought to herself as he slid the condom on and then settled between her legs. Tears sprang into her eyes as he pushed inside her, groaning appreciatively. He would hate me...he would hate me so much...

"My name's Keith by the way," he said hours later as, after waking from a troubled sleep, she made her way to the front door.

Her head was pounding and she felt desperate for the sanctity of her own bed, so she wasn't sure she had heard him right. "What?"

"I said, my name's Keith," he repeated, a slight trace of annoyance in his tone. "Not Ben." She paused and stared at him, framed as he was at the entrance to the bedroom, dressed only in his boxer shorts."I don't know, call me old-fashioned but I prefer being called by my own name during sex rather than someone else's."

Her chest tightened and she wrenched open the door, hurrying out into the corridor of the building and down the stairs to the exterior door that led to some kind of freedom. Pushing it open, she took in a deep lungful of air, the world spinning around her and suddenly she realised that she had absolutely no idea where she was.

New York

"I believed I could be in business and make a decent product...make the world a better place. Maybe that's naive but that's what I believed."

Ben leaned against the side of the witness box. "When you discovered that Mr Green did not share your values, what did you do?"

"I told him we didn't have to save money by risking the health of children. I told him Harry Renkmeyer was right."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He said he would discuss it with Harry. Everything would be just fine."

"Now we've heard Mr Nikolai Rostov testify that he killed Harry Renkmyer. Previously, did you say that you had never seen Mr Rostov in person?"

Tears hovered in Ann's eyes. "Yes I did, but I lied..."

"And why was that?"

"I was in fear for my life," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Would you please tell the court now if you ever saw Mr Rostov before you saw his photo in the paper?" He felt himself hold his breath, silently willing her on.

"Yes, I did."

"Can you tell us where and when?"

She paused and looked over at the defence table, a tear escaping from one eye and sliding down her cheek. "In Mr Green's office...just past eleven o'clock, the night before Harry was killed."

Ben nodded. "Thank you. No further questions." He turned and walked back across to the prosecution table, feeling her eyes on him the entire time. When he turned around and sat down, he could see her watching him, her expression almost begging. As though she was saying, I did what you asked. Now you need to protect me.

"Mr Packard?"

"I have no questions for this witness," he said and Ann visibly seemed to slump in her chair.

"The witness is excused." Judge Barrie looked over at him. "Mr Stone?"

"The state rests its case," he replied, watching as Ann made her way back through the side door of the court to where her protective detail was waiting.

"She did it," Claire whispered.

"Yes," he agreed softly. "Yes she did."

London

Three days later

It made it seem all the more sordid, dressing in the dark, slipping away into the night, and as she turned to reach for her jacket, his profile suddenly visible in the light coming in from the street, she realised that she wasn't even sure what his name was.

Not that it mattered.

There was only one name that mattered. Only one man that mattered, at that. One man that she would probably never see again, even if she wanted to. If he only knew...he would be so ashamed.

The night air hit her with a jolt, cool for May, and as she hurried down the steps to the street, she saw that most iconic of things, a red telephone box, standing silently on the corner. She paused, checking her watch. It would only be nine pm in New York. He would still be awake. He might even still be in the office.

There were several bags of loose change in her purse, a trick someone had told her about to save her from being the dumb American scrabbling around trying to tell a ten pence piece from a five pence piece while the line behind grew longer and more impatient. She pulled one out and hurried over to the telephone box.

The number was easy, burned into her brain, even with the international dialling code and as it started to ring out, she felt her heart start to beat faster and her palms grow sweaty. Four times it rang. Another four and then she would hang up.

The line clicked.

"Ben Stone."

She opened her mouth to speak and found that she had no words. What was she supposed to say? What could she say? After everything that had happened between them, words would probably never be enough.

"Hello?"

She closed her eyes at the richness of his voice. How she missed it. How she missed him...

"Evelyn?"

With a start, she ripped the receiver from her ear and crashed it back into the cradle before pushing open the door of the phone box and stepping back out into the crisp night air. Her breath fogged in front of her as she hurried towards the main road, her eyes scanning for any sign of a vacant taxi.

The sooner she was back in her flat and in the shower, scrubbing away the night's activities, the better.

New York

Ben slowly replaced the receiver and took another drink of scotch.

It had been her. He knew it had been her and though, once again, she had said nothing, it somehow comforted him to know that, in some way, she was all right.

Unlike him.

The side door of his office opened and Claire walked in. "Ben?" she asked expectantly, clearly surprised that he wasn't still in the jubilant mood they had all been in a few hours earlier when, after three days of deliberations, the jury had convicted Steve Green of murder in the second degree.

He took a breath, wondering if he would be able to convey the news he had been given himself only a half hour earlier without breaking down completely. "They were moving Ann Madsen out of her apartment." His voice shook slightly. "She was shot in the street."

"Surrounded by cops?"

He nodded. "They shot the guy that killed her...and he had no ID. They still don't know who the hell he is. And she never even made it to the hospital."

"Knowing who you are, Ben, you didn't have a choice," she said supportively.

He knew she was only saying it to try and make him feel better, feel less guilty. She had always been opposed to the way he had dealt with Ann, though she had quietly gone along with it, and he had never engaged her about it. But saying it, confirming for him that he was the kind of person who felt they had to do what they perceived was the right thing, whatever the cost, no long sat easily with him. "Maybe I didn't," he said. "But I do now."

"How do you mean?"

He looked down into his glass. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"I've dictated a summary of all the open cases we have," he said, ignoring her question. "You'll have it in the morning. Obviously you can call me if you need any guidance, or speak to Adam, and once Jack comes back..."

"You're not quitting."

He met her shocked gaze, "Let's call it, taking a new path."

"Ben, this is crazy. What happened to Ann Madsen is tragic but you're not to blame and you shouldn't give up your career..."

"Shouldn't I? She gave up her life. How can I have asked her to do that and not be prepared to do the next best thing myself?"

"You didn't kill her."

"No? I might as well have. I didn't pull the trigger but I put the gun in their hands."

"But this place is your life!"

He let her words digest and then slowly shook his head, "No, it's not. Or at least, it shouldn't be. Maybe...maybe I can see Evelyn's point now."

"About what?"

"Having to do something for yourself, even if other people don't think it's a good idea."

Claire sighed heavily. "What will you do?"

"Honestly?" He paused. "I have no idea."

London

Home, if she could call it that. A shower, some aspirin, coffee...it was the middle of the damn night and she had work tomorrow but she knew she wouldn't sleep, couldn't sleep. Her head and body ached, she felt sick, her feet barely capable of carrying her over to the phone, her eyes barely able to see it for tears.

She lifted the receiver and shakily dialled his office number again.

This time she would say something.

She would say she was sorry.

She would tell him she loved him.

She would tell him she needed him.

It rang out.

New York

"I never thought I'd get a letter of resignation from you," Adam said. "Thought you'd be here long after I'd gone."

"It's...uh...not entirely about you," Ben said with a wry smile.

"That's kind of you, thank you." Adam paused. "Steve Green has filed his notice of intention to appeal."

"Based on what?"

"Coercion of a witness, Ann Madsen."

Ben shook his head. These people...the Gruskovs, the Luccheses...they never knew when to quit and time after time, they got away with it. "Considering the witness is dead the appeals court should be amused." Lifting his briefcase, he moved back to the door, stopping to turn one last time. "I've brought Claire up to speed on my open cases. I told her she can call me if she needs to."

"She'll do fine," Adam said, getting out of his chair and coming to stand in front of him.

"I know. I'm not sure I ever really gave her the credit she deserved. She's a good lawyer. She'll do good things."

"What about you?"

"I'm clear as a bell."

It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"You know what you're going to do?"

He paused. He knew what he wanted to do, what he badly wanted to do, and yet he also knew the chances of him actually doing it were slim to none. She wouldn't want him there. Still, there was no harm in wishful thinking. "I hear London's lovely this time of year."

Adam smiled. He knew it too. "Then God speed my boy."

Everyone else was long gone for the night. As Ben passed his office on the way to the elevator, he heard his phone ringing. Pausing in front of the door, he wondered if he should answer it. Maybe it was something important. Then he remembered that whatever it was, it was somebody else's problem now.

He walked on and let it ring.

TO BE CONTINUED

Part 3 coming soon!