She has enthralled me since the moment we met. Perfect composure, long fingers that encompassed my hand as a husky voice affirmed that it was a pleasure to meet me, despite the fact that we were on opposite sides of the case.

They weren't kidding about that southern charm. Had Jack left us alone long enough, I'm sure she could have convinced me to reverse my position, no matter that I believed in my case. As it was, I nearly asked her out before regaining my senses.

As time passed, I was glad that I had not. She had enough people pulling at her. Schiff, and later Nora, trying to groom her for a future in politics, McCoy trying to mold her into a good soldier, others feeling they should have her prestigious job, the press wanting her quotes because she was photogenic. None came close to breaching her defenses, though all purchased little pieces of her humanity.

We crossed paths on occasion, always on opposite sides of the courtroom. I think she respected my position, my decision to help children rather than imprison them, even though she disagreed.

We never spent any time alone, though I admit I wouldn't have been averse to the idea. She seemed to avoid any chance of such an occurrence. I think I made her uncomfortable, or rather, my position did. It's a reaction with which I'm familiar. From discussions with Emil, I know she was never alone for long with him either.

It wasn't until we both spent time with Cragen's unit that I finally got to see her passion from the perspective of colleague rather than friendly adversary. Sometimes, when I looked at her as she dealt with one of the traumatized, I would surprise a look of profound sorrow in her eyes. It was enough to make my breath catch in my throat and wonder why no one else could see her pain.

Yet I remained silent, waiting for her trust as I did with frightened children in my care. As we were thrown together more often without Jack's presence - his interference - her barriers began to drop.

It was in the aftermath of her former lover's murder that she finally leaned on me. She sought me out at intervals to talk, showing up at the end of office hours with a bottle of wine or a case of beer out of deference to me, though I knew she preferred something harder to soothe her pain. And I held her as she fell apart, listened as she spoke, and cautiously counseled her as she healed her heart.

That was the beginning. Even after she recovered, inasmuch as possible, our evenings continued, merely changing locale. I fell in love with her during those meetings, that southern charm sweeping me off my feet.

I consider myself lucky that she did the same. I feel we progressed rather naturally, despite the daytime soap circumstances surrounding our relationship. And now I have someone to go home with at night.

She credits me with saving her. She fails to realize how she healed me. Though I may still have bad days, I only have to look at my Greek goddess, always ready to take on the world, and I know that in her, I will forever have a home.