Author: Rysler
Date: 08/08/05
Canon: Law and Order: SVU, Law and Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Tracey Kibre
Warnings: Lesbian porn and discussions of child abuse (not together)
Summary: The defendant in a sexual abuse trial is shot over an alleged drug deal and Alex must work with the prosecutor handling the new case.
Notes: Thanks to sassymouth for reading it over.

For nova_caine.

* * *

"I should be on this case," Alex said, crossing her arms in frustration. "The Donlan case was mine. This is connected." She stood in the center of the district attorney's office staring at the district attorney, who sat passively at her desk.

Nora pushed her glasses up her nose. "That's not the way it works, Alex, and you know that. Yes, Aaron Donlan was sexually abusing his nephew, but it looks like he was shot over drugs. Completely unrelated."

"There is no such thing as completely unrelated," Alex said.

Nora steepled her hands. "Then I expect you to cooperate with the second investigation."

"Fine. Which of the thousand district attorneys in New York City got the case?"

Nora pushed a manila envelope toward Alex. "Tracey Kibre. Her card's on top."

* * *

Alex knocked on the glass next to the open office Tracey shared with two other assistant district attorneys. "Come in," a voice called, and Alex hoped it was Tracey and not another A.D.A. She'd made an appointment for 3:00, but one never knew. She rounded the corner and entered the office.

A dark-haired woman, older than herself, stood as she entered. At least, Alex thought, they hadn't assigned a novice to the Donlan case. Fewer mistakes. Good. She smiled and extended her hand. "Ms. Kibre?"

"Tracey." Tracey shook her hand, and then waved her into a chair. "And you're..."

"Alex Cabot."

Tracey sat behind her desk and folded her hands. "And you're here about Donlan. If I could pass off the case to you, I would. I don't want to get myself involved in defending a child molester." She cleared her throat. "No offense."

Alex chuckled. "None taken. I don't want to defend him either. I just want all the pieces of my puzzle. I don't want a connection between a drive-by and the kid to be missed because of paperwork and then show up on the witness list."

"Hey, I don't want the shooter to walk because we missed a motive. Looks like both our interests are served by working together." Tracey leaned back. "I know we've never met formally, but you look familiar. I've seen you in the courthouse. With kids. I guess I thought you were a parent."

"Oh, god, no. You?" Alex asked.

"Heavens, no." Tracey tilted her head and studied Alex. "I guess I don't know as much as I should about the Special Victims Unit."

"You're not alone. We don't get around much. I think people can't stop themselves from overassociating us with sex."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Tracy said.

Alex chuckled and crossed her legs. "You'd think my reputation would precede me."

"I guess mine didn't, either. Let's see... Any more territorial pissing?"

Alex tapped her pen against her leg. "I need Donlan to look as unsympathetic as possible in my court. You need him to look victimized in yours. How will we handle that?"

Tracey said, "Look, I'm used to doing my job without wearing my heart on my sleeve. I don't need Donlan to cry on the witness stand if his shooter is a dealer with a record. I'm sure you can relate."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I certainly can."

Tracey smiled. "I'm sure there are stories for another time. Are you ready to go over the case notes?"

Alex nodded. "Just the facts for now. See what connections present themselves. No theories until our next rendezvous. Deal?"

"Agreed. Maybe we'll find some gaps in the information we can toss the interns to fill out."

"You have interns?"

Tracey peered at Alex over her notes. "Don't you?"

"No. Too much specialized training." Alex said, pulling her chair closer to Tracey's desk.

"A shame. But you have cops, right? You don't use the retirees in the prosecutor's office."

"Right. We use the NYPD's sex crimes unit instead. Cops in their prime."

Tracey rested her chin on her folded hands. "Dreamy. Perhaps we can have a tough sex cop and a fresh-faced little NYU intern go out on an interview together." She peered at Alex.

Alex laughed. "That would be worth seeing."

She and Tracey worked on the respective cases for over an hour before the alarm on Tracey's desk went off. Alex blinked. "Is our time up, doctor?"

Tracey reached over and tapped the alarm. "I'm afraid so. I've got another meeting with another lawyer in ten minutes. But we should do this again. Perhaps...." She sighed and reached over to a datebook, which she flipped open. "Tomorrow at dinner? When does your trial open?"

Alex exhaled. "Thursday morning. I could ask for a delay due to the shooting, but..."

"It would be a bad idea."

"Right. Tomorrow for dinner is fine with me. There's an appointment with my mother I can get out of," Alex said, offering Tracey a smile.

"Georgio's?"

"How about Maggiano's? They don't mind me spreading my papers everywhere, and they don't serve sauces that stain."

"I'm not sure..."

"On me. Cabot budget, not the city's." Alex grinned.

"All right. I've always wanted to go to Maggiano's." Tracey stood to lean over the desk and offer Alex her hand. "Until tomorrow."

Alex shook Tracey's hand. "Until then."

* * *

The next day at lunchtime found Alex outside the courthouse, salivating at the scent of food. "I will never get used to eating pizza from a vendor," she complained. The gooey mozzarella mess wrapped in wax paper spilled over her hand as she daintily plucked a pepperoni.

Abbie, fellow counselor, chuckled beside her. "Is it some sort of breeding thing?"

"Oh please. It's just heartburn. Hot dogs, pizza, potato chips, it doesn't matter. I have to go home and eat steamed asparagus every night to balance it out."

Abbie blanched. "You should start carrying Tums in your briefcase like any self-respecting assistant district attorney."

"Tums is for amateurs. I have Mylanta," Alex said. She grinned at Abbie. "To the park? I think it's warm enough." Spring was settling into New York. Each day was either chilly or almost chilly, but Alex had resisted packing away her winter suits, so almost chilly felt comfortable.

Abbie unwrapped her scarf. "Absolutely. The stroll will help our digestion." She patted Alex on the back.

"But what will Mother say if I get calluses?"

Abbie grinned. "She may disown you, Alex. So, how's work?" She took a bite of her pizza.

Alex went through the gate into the small neighborhood park. The grass was still bleak from the winter, but the trees showed signs of life. She looked in vain for a bud as she said, "I'm working with a prosecutor named Tracey Kibre on a joint investigation thing. Do you know her?"

"I know of her. Handles mostly homicides. Hasn't gotten involved in white collar. Not looking for any judgeship or federal billet. Has turned down offers to go private. Seems to genuinely like her job." Abbie glanced at Alex. "You must get along with her."

"I do, but... why?"

"No competition."

Alex snorted. "I'm not that competitive."

"Please. You compete with your investigators."

"Hey, it's a police unit. Being the alpha female is important."

Abbie rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Tell me more."

"You mean, the dirt? Does no one talk to you sex crimes people?"

"Not even the victims, Abbie."

Abbie squeezed Alex's arm. "Sorry. Let's see... You know Jack's reputation. Tracey's vying for his title. Only she's still soloing the small cases, or second-chairing, so she doesn't prey on her own subordinates. Therefore, she doesn't have his name, yet. But she's certainly spent the last fifteen years making one of her own."

"You mean... She gets around?"

"Name an A.D.A., and there's probably a story. When you're as devoted to your job as she is, you don't go looking elsewhere for companionship."

"Huh." Alex nibbled at the crust of her pizza, and then said, "So, how is Jack McCoy's reputation?"

"Oh, don't go there. He's still not over Claire Kincaid."

* * *

Alex got to Maggiano's before Tracey and so had the opportunity to see Tracey's entrance. She'd already settled into a side booth, sitting on cushions nicer than her couch at home. A glass of white wine, Australian 2000, was at her hand and she had a view of the door.

Four minutes after the meeting time, Tracey walked into the restaurant, dressed in a conservative suit. Something she had probably worn to work. Alex watched her stride to the host and be waved toward the booth. Tracey smiled when she caught sight of Alex, and Alex returned the smile, watching her walk, sizing her up. She realized that the quality that attracted her upon first shaking Tracey's hand was Tracey's sense of class.

Alex hadn't recognized Tracey from her parents' society functions, but she recognized the long-legged gait and quiet manner of speaking. As Tracey smiled and slid into the booth opposite Alex, Alex noticed the heavy rings on her fingers and the necklace that was far more than a string of pearls at her throat. Yet Tracey, wearing more jewelry than Alex owned, did not look gaudy. She carried herself well. She knew it. Alex swallowed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Tracey said. "I passed Maggiano's twice."

"I should have given you better directions." Alex waved the apology away.

The waiter appeared, and Tracey gestured at Alex's wine glass. "Mind if I...?"

"Imbibe? Be my guest." Alex grinned.

Tracey flipped open the wine menu and studied it, before saying, "Rosemont Shiraz-Cabernet, just a glass, please." When the waiter had left, Tracey offered Alex a warm smile. "I'm glad this isn't going on the company bill."

"We'll have to consider it a working date, then." Alex said, and to mollify the suggestiveness, added, "We agreed to discuss conspiracy theories, didn't we?"

"As long as we're fair to both sides. Aliens got to your little boy, and N.O.W. got my guy."

"N.O.W?"

"I've seen worse at trial," Tracey said.

Alex took a sip of her wine. "And so have I. At least we have the same footing. But let's save the cranks for after we order. I'm trying to decide between salmon and mahi mahi," Alex said, and tapped her menu.

"Those sound pretty plain for a three star Italian eatery."

"Well, I had pizza for lunch, and my stomach is still in knots. I'm trying to avoid anything that might tempt the senses into tragedy." She flashed Tracey a smile.

Tracey nodded. "Khalil on 12th or... I forget her name... the Croatian?"

"She's Croatian? But no, Harold, on 14th."

"You should talk to her, instead of letting your investigators handle all of the canvassing." Tracey winked. "Harold's pizza always gives me indigestion, but his son is in a pretty good jazz band that played at the Asan last week."

"Harold has a son?" Alex shook her head, and said, "I really do need to get more involved in my surroundings. Do you talk to everyone?"

"No... I listen. People love to talk. Even criminals."

"Especially criminals," Alex agreed. The waiter came and took their orders, and Alex opened the folder she'd brought with her. "N.O.W. is a valid option, sure, but I think we should clear all relatives and possible hits. I have the bank statements...It's been a long day..." She pulled off her glasses to clean them, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Tracey's intake of breath was audible. Alex blinked. "What?"

"Nothing...You look ten years younger without your glasses," Tracey said.

"Why do you think I wear them?" Alex sat back and smiled. She let the glasses rest in her palm. "Youthful exuberance does not inspire in the jury like you think it would."

"Oh, I beg to differ."

Alex blushed. Tracey was definitely flirting with her. She'd thrown the first volley with her date comment, so she could hardly hold herself innocent. She put her glasses back on and opened her folder. "I believe wisdom and strength have their place," she said, mostly to the paper, but in the corner of her eye she saw a softening of Tracey's smile.

Dessert was ordered, cheesecake to share, before Tracey stumbled onto a solid theory. "Have you looked at the shooter's record?"

"Nothing violent, if I recall. Just citations. A speeding ticket, but not reckless driving. Jaywalking, but not obstruction. No pattern we can introduce."

Tracey tapped the paper. "A misdemeanor for possession of obscene material. He plead guilty and paid a fine. Four years ago."

"Must have been a plea." Alex lifted her head. The cheesecake arrived and went unnoticed. "Who's the arresting officer?"

"Julia Hernandez. I'll give her a call."

Alex sighed. "This could complicate matters."

Tracey patted her hand. "Trial start tomorrow?"

"8 o'clock."

"I have a deposition. I'll swing by early and wish you luck."

Alex smiled. She wondered if that was an open invitation for breakfast, and all that came before it, but she suddenly had too much to do. "I'll see you there," she said.

Tracey picked up a fork and made a stab at the cheesecake. "Calories can only help."

* * *

At 7:45 AM, Alex called Tracey's cell with an offer to bring coffee, if she was still coming. No strings attached. Tracey agreed, and they met at 7:50 on the second floor of the courthouse. Alex presented Tracey her decaf coffee, black.

Tracey took a sip. "You ready?"

"I'm nervous." Alex clutched her coffee, but didn't sip it, for fear of rattling her stomach. She walked with Tracey toward the courtroom, and as she rounded a corner, she saw two Special Victims Unit cops, Benson and Stabler, escorting the Donlan nephew. They were both wearing light trench coats and kneeling to talk softly to the boy. When Benson saw Alex, she straightened and waved. After a moment, Stabler straightened, too, narrowing his eyes at Tracey and taking a step between the approaching women and the boy.

"That's Donlan. The boy your victim got shot for hurting," Alex said.

"You don't have to remind me," Tracey murmured. She was staring at Benson and Stabler. "Goddamn, they're tall."

Alex smirked and started walking toward the cops. She said, "Have a good day in court, counselor."

"You, too." Tracey turned and walked quickly in the other direction.

* * *

Alex and Tracey sat together in Nora's office the same afternoon. Nora looked unhappy, but then, she always did. "How's the case, Alex?"

"I saw the jury's faces. This will be quick and easy. For once, a credible witness."

"Good." Nora tapped her pen against her paper. "Good. About the other case..."

Alex saw Tracey steel herself, and wanted to reach out to support her, but knew it would be inappropriate. She squelched the desire, but kept her eyes on Tracey.

Nora said, "I got a call from your office, Tracey, and the lead looks solid. The shooting was probably reprisal from a child pornography ring. Donlan was getting greedy and exposing himself. The shooter flipped on his distributor four years ago, but... apparently found another one. So we're turning it over to major cases."

Tracey leaned forward. "But--"

"They have more manpower. You're just not equipped for that sort of thing."

"So Carver gets his name in the papers. If I can handle a drug case, Nora, I can handle--"

"It's either major cases, or the FBI."

Tracey cringed. "Fine."

Alex reached over and squeezed Tracey's wrist. She couldn't think of anything to say.

"Don't forget to turn over your notes," Nora said, and went back to her reading, indicating the meeting was over.

Tracey scowled as she and Alex left the office.

"Nothing like having your livelihood torn up because of politics," Alex said softly once they were in the hallway. "Drinks?"

Tracey smiled. "Drinks would be lovely. You must be pleased. I can root squarely for your verdict. No competition."

"No competition," Alex echoed. She squeezed Tracey's arm again.

Tracey exhaled. "Drink... and perhaps pie."

"I know just the place."

* * *

Alex took a final swallow of her wine and watched Tracey gaze upon the empty plate that had once held pecan pie. Only a small white puff of whipped cream at the corner of the dish showed evidence of what they'd eaten. Tracey shook her head, and offered one last morose statement. "Major cases. Is Goren going to divine the whereabouts of the ring?"

"I'm sure his partner does all the work, and just uses his behavior as a distraction to cover up her cunning plans."

Tracey smiled. "Do you know her?"

"I..." Alex stopped.

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "Did you...and she..."

Alex cleared her throat. "No, but I took her to dinner. It's just... I think Bobby Goren is more than a distraction."

"I see. It's amazing who we know, and yet we've never crossed paths."

Alex smiled. "I'm glad we have now."

"If briefly. Two lawyers in the night, following the trail of the bad guys." Tracey lifted her glass.

Alex clinked her empty glass against Tracey's. "But someone else is on the trail. All that's left is the night."

"We shouldn't give up our plans over politics," Tracey said.

"Is that an invitation, Ms. Kibre?"

Tracey set down her glass. "Well... I'm not saying no. And I happen to have better wine than this at home."

Alex reached for her wallet. "I admit, I'm intrigued."

"How long have you been intrigued?" Tracey stood and slipped into her coat.

"Since we met."

* * *

Their first kiss was in the foyer of Tracey's brownstone. A test run to see if they wanted more. The door was still open; they had the presence of mind not to kiss on the street. Alex's knees nearly buckled when Tracey's tongue found its way into her mouth, and she had wanted more. Tracey had stepped back, smiled, and taken her hand. Alex followed her calmly into the bedroom, and there, had let herself give into what she really wanted. Tracey let her take it.

Now, her tongue parted swollen folds. Tracey tasted of musk and heat. Alex moaned and her breath shook the dark, damp curls touching her lips. She felt Tracey palpitate against her mouth as Tracey lifted her hips. Long legs, firmer and stronger than Alex had imagined, straddled her shoulders. Tracey's heel pressed into her waist. Alex found herself pinned and surrounded. She lifted her chin to say, "You have dancer's legs."

Tracey chuckled with a low, throaty sound. "Thank my gym membership."

"You must actually use it."

Tracey chuckled again. She cupped Alex's head, not applying pressure, just lightly massaging the scalp, so that Alex wanted to curl into Tracey's palm and rub herself against the scratching fingers. Tracey said, "I don't want to talk about my legs."

With any other lover, Alex would have balked at her position. The gentlest suggestion that she yield to her partner would provoke an immediate response. Alex would regain control, make her desires known, and urgent. She liked to conquer the conqueror and liked to prove she was stronger than people thought. Especially in bed. But Tracey's intensity, her single-minded focus, the talents that experience and age must have brought her, all tempted Alex. She suspected Tracey, whose thumb idly stroked her forehead, was offering her the ride of her life.

Still, Alex wanted to be sure of what was happening between them. Her tongue slid into Tracey, a move that weakened the most demanding of lovers. She felt Tracey's tightness, taste her need, but Tracey never shuddered in response, nor moved her hand, as if she were waiting for Alex to offer more than teasing. Alex bowed her head to her task, and felt Tracey's thighs gently squeeze.

Tracey guided her, speaking words of encouragement, deep and throaty. Her hand and her voice guided Alex, teaching her where to lick, where to touch. Tracey began to tremble, when her breath got heavier and the timbre in her voice began to change. "Alex... Alex."

Alex could feel Tracey's faith in her, that she would be the one to draw this orgasm from her partner. Her tongue, her teeth, her careful devotion to what Tracey needed from her. She suckled, and Tracey's fingers tightened in her hair. Tracey called out Alex's name when she came, but Alex could mostly only hear the pounding in her ears, could only taste what Tracey offered her.

* * *

Morning came, and Alex, restless, made coffee in Tracey's kitchen. Tracey appeared when the scent had permeated throughout the house. She leaned against the doorway and offered Alex a tired smile.

Alex, looking at Tracey in a thin robe that hugged curves Alex had stroked, felt desire building again, but she wasn't sure of Tracey's views on a morning routine, and she had an appointment uptown. She regretted not having the time, and she regretted not knowing Tracey well enough.

Tracey came over and took a mug from her, and kissed her cheek, but said nothing.

Alex looked at her hands, resting on the counter, and said, "What now? A thousand prosecutors... Who knows when the next case will come?"

"Or the next job, the next judgeship, the next change," Tracey said.

Alex nodded, and looked away, through the window at Manhattan as she said, "You've got my card."

"And you've got my number. Don't hesitate."

Alex smiled. She knew, in a city of 22 million people, that she would see Tracey Kibre again.