Abbie sat back in her chair. She ran her fingers through her hair, and then stretched her arms above her head, trying to ease the muscle tension in her back caused from sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs for far too long. She looked at the people around her - all members of the NYPD, barring Elliot's wife, Kathy and Olivia's ex-girlfriend, Tristan, who had remained as far away as practicable - and observed those who sat, those who paced, and those who chatted quietly amongst themselves. Donald Cragen noticed Abbie's stirrings, excused himself from his present company and made his way over to her. He felt a little out of his element as he drew closer to this woman, whom he had had, at one stage, a professional relationship with, and who now sat in a room full of people looking more alone than she should.

"Abbie. How you feeling?" He placed his hand gently on to her shoulder as he took the free seat next to her.

She rubbed her hand back and forth across her forehead, her eyes closed, squinting in pain when her fingers moved down between her eyes, to rest lightly against the broken bridge of her nose.

"Been better."

He seemed unaware of the intensity of his gaze as he studied her profile, leaving her wonder if he had ever experienced something as emotionally raw as this. She wanted to ask, if only to seek comfort in the knowledge that if he had, he was able to move on and live his life.

"Elliot let you know where we are with the case?" He removed his hand, and let it dangle between his legs, his elbows resting on his knees, as he lent forward to hear her response.

"He tried...but I wasn't really listening. It's been kinda hard to concentrate, especially while I'm doped up on these painkillers. The last I recall..." she looked at the ceiling while she thought. "Y'all were taking evidence collected at the scene to the Crime Lab and canvassin' the cities hospitals for any patients admitted with gun- shot wounds. S'pose y'all have your work cut out for ya with that one."

She found it difficult to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She couldn't help but scoff at the irony of it all. She had just spent the last three years living in the Country's crime capital, D.C., no more than three blocks from Dupont Circle, and had only ever had vagrants ask for spare change or propositioned for dates by eager, young, high school boys out on the town for the night. Yet within a month of returning to NYC, a place she thought she'd be safe, she ended up hospitalized. Cragen ignored her cynicism and prepared himself to continue. He looked cagey, as though he was being physically restrained, and Abbie grew anxious in his company.

"There have been a few developments. Uh...CSU analysed the blood residue left by the perp on that brownstone and we know that he...was a she." He looked to Abbie for some glimmer of recognition but she remained stony-faced as she mulled the information over in her mind. She would never have thought that the person who had elbowed her in the face earlier that evening could have been a woman. Not just because of the glaringly obvious distinction between male and female crime statistics - being that a man is more likely to commit a violent crime spontaneously than a woman - but simply because she could not visualise that her attacker, who had hit with such force and anger, was a woman. Was. Did that mean? Abbie whipped her head up but Cragen anticipated this and held up his hand before continuing.

"They found her body not far from the scene. Only thing is...she wasn't alone. No more than ten feet away, they found the body of a four-year-old African-American boy. They were three blocks up, in a dead-end alley. She looked pretty beat up. Her right cheekbone was fractured, her upper lip busted, and what looks like burns to her arms and legs, probably from a cigarette. We're not sure whether these injuries were inflicted prior to your attack or after, but I think we're definitely looking at something beyond attempted robbery." He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his hand, before rubbing his chin. "The kid was strangled. Doesn't seem to be any sign of sexual assault but we got the M.E. checking it out now."

Cragen was quite a few moments, leaving Abbie to contemplate this new information. There was more, he just wasn't sure whether now was the right time to go into it. Abbie sensed his hesitation and commented on it.

"Don't leave me out in the dark, Donald. Tell me everything."

Cragen settled back into the chair, took a notebook out of his overcoat pocket, and flipped a few pages, read for a moment before closing the booklet and replacing it.

"Well...It looks like the wound inflicted by Olivia was the cause of death and that's not gonna look good for her...when she gets out of here." He sniffed loudly while looking at the linoleum floor. "Uh... the bullet skirted the flesh of her upper left arm before entering the chest cavity and piercing a lung. Looks like the perp died drowning in her own blood. The usual inquiry will be conducted by IAB and I'm sure you'll be brought forth to testify to the validity of Olivia's claims, whatever they may be." Again he sniffed, the sound interrupting Abbie's thought.

"There's nothing to testify to. I got smacked in the head, had my briefcase snatched, and Olivia did her job." A deep flush rose from her neck again, leaving it plainly obvious that Abbie was finding it difficult to curb her anger. Cragen placed his hand on her thigh in an attempt to pacify her, but she brushed it aside and stood, looking down at him.

"That woman shot her. Point blank. Twice. It would have been three times if Olivia hadn't moved slightly. Jesus Christ!" A small crowd had turned to look at Abbie's outburst of emotion. Elliot looked up from across the other side of the waiting room, where he was sitting with his wife, arms around her, her head resting on his shoulder, sleeping. Abbie clenched her hands into fists and brought them up in front of her face, resting them on her forehead. A moment later, she let her fingers run through her hair, resting both hands, fingers entwined, at the base of her neck. She turned back toward Cragen, blew out through her mouth, letting the air whistle between her teeth, and shook her head back and forth.

"I just can't believe this shit!" She sat back down and looked at Cragen. "What the hell has happened to this city!" This was said more as a statement than a question and she wasn't looking for an answer. She took another deep breath before looking away, off into the distance. "Who was this woman anyway?"

Cragen took the notebook out again and flipped to the information and started to read. "Ah...Perp was 23 of African-American decent. Name was Juanita Neilson. Ah...she lived on W. 123rd and Lexington. No priors. Actually, she was a model student at Columbia, studying...ah...Social Science. She was enrolled to do her Masters, but had taken a six month leave of absence." He shook his head, not bothering to look at Abbie. "It just doesn't make sense. This is why we don't think it's some everyday mugging. What the hell was this woman playing at?" He reached into the inside pocket of his overcoat and brought out a small snapshot of the deceased: a pretty young woman whose face was bearing the marks of a recent attack. He handed it to Abbie before looking up at her. She was completely still, her mouth slightly open and the colour had drained from her cheeks.

"What." There was no response from the stunned attorney. Cragen lent closer to Abbie and gently nudged her. "Abbie, What is it?"

"We need to talk. Now."

She stood and looked over at Elliot. She waved to catch his eye, and motioned him over. She turned back to Cragen and moved closer to him, his face stoic, refusing to display his confusion.

"Can we go somewhere? Just the three of us?" Abbie's request held a pleading quality to it. Elliot moved into ear shot in time to catch the end of Abbie's question.

"Cap, we can use the small interview room over near the security station."

Cragen looked around the waiting room, searching out the other detectives assigned to his squad. When he got Fin's attention, Cragen beckoned him over.

"We're going to the interview room next to Security One. Come get us if anything changes." Cragen clapped him on the shoulder, his hand smacking against the leather of his coat.

"You got it." Fin nodded as he watched the trio walk away, towards the corridor.

As Abbie took a chair beside the small desk, she rubbed her hands across her forehead and made a clicking noise with her tongue. Cragen took the other chair while Elliot lent against the far wall with his arms folded in front of him.

"I know this woman."

Elliot moved off from the wall, his arms falling to his side while Cragen's eyes widened in surprise.

"I met her a couple of nights ago. I was out with some friends... having drinks at The Bentley Bar, a couple of blocks up from Centre and Lafayette." Elliot gave a nod before leaning back against the wall while Cragen shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"The place is always full of attorneys and city official's...I think she was working out of City Hall, doing some kind of Safe City policy associated with ACLU. I remember `cause I was honestly impressed." She looked down as she rubbed her thumb against her palm. "We got to talkin' and one thing led to another...and I took her home with me." Cragen sniffed again, his fingers tapping the desktop. Elliot, on the other hand, pushed off from the wall again and circled around the desk.

"Let me get this straight. You pick up this woman, do what ever...?" He waved his hand around to emphasis the obvious, "and a few days later she's smackin' you in the face, snatching your bag and shooting up Olivia?" Elliot looked at Cragen while he took out his cell phone.

"Leave it, Elliot. I'll call Van Buren when we're finished here."

"But we need to..."

"We can wait a few moments." He directed his attention back to Abbie.

"Did she, at any time, give you the impression that she would be capable of doing something like this?"

Abbie shook her head while shrugging her shoulders in a defensive manner.

"I didn't really know her. I...we talked a little after...well...you know... but..." Abbie's eyes widened as she recalled snippets of their post- coital conversations.

"The boy. He's gotta be hers." She put her head in her hands and let her hair fan out around her. "Oh god...she was telling me about her son, Gus...Oh Geezuz." She looked up at Elliot, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill.

The door to the office flew open and Fin burst in, looking wired, his eyes bulging and his solid frame shaking.

"She's out. Damn it. She's alright!"