'Diana Hawthorne to see Elizabeth Olivet,' she says to the officious doorman. She's been here often but each time she visits she's struck by all the details that make up the gracious life that is lived here. It's astonishing to her that Liz, who grew up in this building, who lives here now, would choose to work with the police department and the DA's office instead of just focusing on private practice and volunteering with the Junior League, but she's not that sort of person. Liz wants to help people, she wants to be there in the trenches. She's put herself through so much for justice, to help others… how could Liz not think less of her when she says what she needs to tell her? She will lose her friend. But she needs her advice and so she will take this certain risk because she needs to talk to her.

'Of course, Miss Hawthorne,' the doorman says, and picks up the phone. He waits for a moment and then speaks into the phone. 'Yes, good evening, Dr. Olivet. Miss Hawthorne is here to see you.' He pauses. 'Very good. Thank you.' He replaces the receiver and turns to her. 'Dr. Olivet is expecting you. Have a good evening.'

'Thank you,' she says, and makes her way to the elevator. The elevator attendant murmurs, 'Good evening,' and presses the button for the eighth floor. They ride in silence. She's glad that Liz is home, because sometimes she does work late, either at Hogan Place or the 2-7. It's only-she checks her watch-6:03. Today must have been one of her days in her office.

The elevator door opens and she steps out after thanking the elevator attendant. He nods and the doors close and she walks down the hall to Liz's apartment. The front door opens just as she reaches it and she sees her friend.

Liz is dressed very nicely in a navy skirt suit with a pale blue blouse beneath the jacket. She has plain gold stud earrings and is not wearing any other jewelry, as well as wearing minimal makeup. But Liz looks exhausted and weary and suddenly she wants to turn around and go away. She doesn't want to add to her friend's burdens.

'Diana, hi,' Liz says, stepping back to let her into the apartment. Liz closes the door and they embrace quickly. 'I'm sorry, were we going out to dinner tonight? I'm afraid this week has been very hectic.'

'No, I just… I needed to talk to you.'

Liz's gaze sharpens. 'Come in. Would you like a glass of wine or a martini?'

'A martini, please,' she says with relief.

'Well, let me take your coat, and we can go sit down in the living room.'

She gratefully shrugs out of her heavy mink and hands it to Liz, who hangs it in the closet. She takes off her shoes and sets them next to the bench, then opens her purse and finds her wallet. She feels Liz watching her as she rifles through the wallet, looking for cash. She finally finds a fifty and extracts it, closing her wallet and purse and setting the purse down before meeting Liz's gaze and handing her the bill.

'I know it's not your usual rate,' she says. 'But…'

Liz nods once, her eyes sad. She looks away, folds the bill, and puts it in her pocket. 'We'd better go to my office, then, after we get our drinks.'

She nods and follows Liz into the living room first, standing awkwardly in the doorway as she watches Liz make their martinis. She takes her time and as her friend moves carefully and deliberately, she feels some of the tension ease.

But then it's time to talk. Liz carries their martinis carefully to her office, and after she accepts hers they sit for a moment in silence. The icy, strong liquor is much needed and she takes a deep sip, then sets down the glass and looks at Liz. Liz's martini sits at her side as well.

The tension floods back in an instant and she feels her body reacting to it, curling up in her chair to make herself less of a target, or to protect herself, or something. She sees, in Liz's appraising look, that her friend knows even if she doesn't.

'What would you like to talk through?' Liz asks her. She's slipped into her doctor voice, her doctor persona, and that makes things so much easier it's a surprise.

'I assume you've heard about the Dillard case,' she begins.

Liz nods. 'Yes. I was served with the lawsuit yesterday.'

'Oh,' she says, feeling guilty. She was the one who pressured Liz into testifying. It was the first case she'd worked on with the DA's office. 'I'm sorry.'

'You don't need to apologize. Mistakes happen.'

It will be harder than she thought, than she believed a minute ago. She looks down at her lap. 'It wasn't a mistake.'

There is silence. After a few long moments, she looks up. Liz is looking at her calmly, dispassionately-the doctor mask. She knows it, because she's seen it in court many times, though never directed at herself.

She stumbles on. 'The witness statement… that detective gave it to me. And I thought… I thought Dillard was guilty. I thought this would just muddy the waters, give the jurors reasonable doubt. So I tore it up and threw it out and didn't give it to Jack, or mention it to him.'

Another long silence. She doesn't look up this time. Liz says, at last, 'Diana.' Her voice is so sad that it brings tears to her eyes and she closes them, willing herself not to cry.

'I just wanted to put him away,' she admits, hearing her voice waver. 'I didn't want this lunatic to be out on the street, killing people. And now… if I had just looked into it myself… if I had just asked the detective to look into it… if… those two boys wouldn't be dead. It's my fault.'

Yet another silence. This time she looks up at her friend. The doctor's mask has vanished, set aside as though it never was, and tears have filled her eyes. She looks so sorry and so tired and so hurt that she feels as though she has another death on her hands. Liz covers her eyes with her hand and seems to collapse into herself.

'I'm so sorry,' she says, then picks up her drink and drains it, almost spluttering on the strong liquor.

Finally Liz straightens up and looks at her, all traces of distress gone, hidden once again behind the mask. 'We should discuss what will happen next,' she says. 'McCoy will be out for your blood.'

'Claire already came to speak with me. And he was waiting for me outside my office today,' she admits. 'He was furious.'

'I can only imagine,' Liz says, a moment of dry humor, and they both start to smile before they remember themselves. 'You will need to hire an attorney, as of course you know. And expect him to go for the jugular. I will try to see what I can find out, but I'm afraid that he obviously knows we are close, and I'm sure he won't tell me anything. I'll see what I can overhear. That second floor women's room in the courthouse is still a hotbed of gossip. I'm in court tomorrow, so I'll call you when I'm home.'

'I can't believe you would do that for me,' she says, her words spilling out as she feels the liquor start to relax her. 'Aren't you angry with me?'

'You are my friend,' she says. 'I am hurting for you. I won't lie and say I am not extremely disappointed, and saddened, and yes, angry. And I wish you had talked to me about this before you did anything. But I think I know better than you will admit why this happened. And I will do what I can to help you through it.'

'Liz,' she says, and bursts into tears.

She cries for a long, long time. She sinks to the floor because she can't sit up, she can't do anything but bend over and sob. Liz puts her arms around her and holds her close like her mother never did. Her friend strokes her hair and her back and whispers soothing nonsense into her ear and she just sobs on and on and on.

When, finally, she emerges from her storm of weeping, she pulls back and looks at Liz. Her suit and blouse are wrinkled beyond repair now and soaked with tears. Her friend has been crying, too.

'Liz,' she begins, wanting to apologize, to leave, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Liz rests her hand on her shoulder. 'Don't apologize. You don't need to apologize for that.' She summons up a brief smile and continues. 'You'll stay tonight.' It's not an offer, it's an order, and she's grateful. She nods. 'The guest room is set up. Right now, you've had a lot to deal with. You're going to take a nice, hot, bath, and I'll bring you a glass of wine and some dinner, and then you will go to sleep. I'll wake you up in the morning and you can borrow some clothes and then we'll have breakfast and go downtown together. And you will call your lawyer, and I will see what I can find out, and then we'll meet for dinner tomorrow night and we will discuss next steps. All right?'

She nods. 'Thank you, Liz.'

She smiles again. 'All right. I'll bring something in for you to wear tonight. Does an omelette sound okay for dinner?'

She is overwhelmed. She doesn't know what to say. 'Anything is fine. Liz… I am grateful for your friendship.'

To her surprise Liz leans forward, hugs her, and kisses her cheek. 'Off you go. Take your time. I'll bring your dinner in when it's ready. The guest room is the next door on the right.'

She nods and stands up. Her legs are wobbly and for a moment she's afraid they won't support her. That feeling fades and she smiles weakly at Liz before going down the hallway to the guest room.