Four Things Serena Southerlyn Never Said
By Fewthistle

Author's Note: Section Four, "Kay", is from the TOS episode, "Mother's Day".

I. Solitude


“Exactly how long are you planning on being alone?” her mother queried.

As if the days and months and years of solitude were self-imposed, some impulsive, quirky choice that she had made. As if she had any say in the matter.

“I don't know, Mother, I was thinking about giving it up for Lent. I know that chocolate or alcohol are the more trendy items from which to abstain, but then, when have I ever gone with the popular choices?” Half blind Aunt Sally, ensconced on the hard Victorian loveseat across the room, could have seen the sarcasm dripping from her words, but her Mother blithely ignored her.

“Honestly, Serena, it isn't as if there aren't any men left in the city. Granted a third of them are married, and another third are gay, but that does still leave you with a reasonably large pool of fish,” Mrs. Southerlyn stated matter-of-factly, brushing an invisible speck of lint from the front of her impeccable Chanel dress. “After all, with a little effort you can look quite presentable, and some of the older ones like to have an attractive woman on their arm.”

There were moments when Serena was with her mother that the urge to scream swept over her like a wave over a beach ball, leaving her tossed and thrown and decidedly unsteady. This was one of those times.

It took all of the control she could muster not to shout to the collective clan of Southerlyns and Rigdons and Bennetts gathered for the ritual swearing in of the new year how much she loved to bury her face between a woman's legs.

Instead, she simply walked away, her heels clicking on the marble parquet of the entrance hall.


II. Enough


“Why don't you ever say ‘I love you' back?” Caroline asked, the heaviness of her voice nearly drowned in the empty space between them on the bed.

“What do you mean?” Serena knew that she was stalling, but she was tired.

New job, new boss. Feeling of abject terror at not being good enough to sit at the prosecutor's table next to the mighty Jack McCoy. She didn't have the energy for this.

Not again. So she stalled.

“Playing the dumb blonde is beneath you, you know?” Caroline tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but pretense wasn't her strong suit.

So far, Serena hadn't quite figured out what her strong suit was. Or even if she had one. Aside from being a great fuck, of course. Not that there wasn't a great deal of merit in that. Just not enough.

Lying back against the pillows, she could see Caroline in her mind, lips pouting, eyelashes clumped together with unshed tears. She knew that she could have simply said it, told her she loved her.

Who knows, maybe she did. Just not enough.


III. Lennie


It was one of their weekly meetings. Different bars, same smells, same battered red barstools. She still wasn't sure how it had all started. A long night pouring over a suspect's papers, mundane conversation slipping, sometime between two and three am, into something more. Something real.

She was his daughter's age. Or rather, his daughter's age if she hadn't ended up dead in an alley. The skin on the back of his hands reminded her of her father; pocked with brown age marks, stretched tight across bone. Her father, who had drifted away into business deals and golf games and shots of single malt scotch years ago.

They both tried to fill gaps the size and shape of Michigan with a green rectangle of felt and a few sticks, but it was better than nothing.

She was amazed at how patient he was, showing her shot after shot; teaching her the elegant geometry of lines and angles; telling her to let the cue slide through the circle of thumb and finger like a lover's caress, gentle, smooth.

A couple of times she looked up from her shot to see him watching her, his hangdog face as crumpled as a week old newspaper. She could see in his eyes that she wasn't the one he wanted to be there.

She was overcome with the need to tell him that his daughter had loved him, that she would have enjoyed learning to play pool from her old man. She wanted to tell him that she knew that her own father loved her, even if he didn't accept her, even if they didn't speak for months.

But she wasn't entirely sure if any of those things were really true.

Smiling sadly, she pulled back the cue and sent the small colored globes scattering across the table.


IV. Kay


Kay's hands were hot, damp as they slid under the edge of her linen shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of a three hundred dollar suit. The mouth that moved along her jaw line was just as hot, just as damp, even white teeth biting down on her earlobe just hard enough to draw a murmur of protest.

Serena could feel the cool marble of the wall through the thin material of her skirt, could feel it against the bare skin of her ass as Kay, in one efficient movement, shimmed the skirt up and quickly separated her from her panties.

The sound of the outer ladies room door opening didn't even slow her movements as Kay Hartley slipped her hand between Serena's thighs. Full lips covered hers, swallowing the moan that accompanied the none too gentle motion of that hand.

Serena couldn't help but notice the glint of triumph in Kay's dark eyes as she slowly stepped back from her, lips curving as she removed her hand and trailed her tongue over each of her fingers.

“I told you I knew a great place to go for lunch. See you in court, Counselor,” Kay smirked, stepping out from the stall.

Leaning her head back against the cool wall, Serena heard the outside door whoosh shut.

Hours later, sitting in Jack's office as they came to realize just how well Kay had played them, Serena knew she should fess up.

“I agreed to challenge the victim's mother as guardian, not because it was the right thing to do and served justice, but because her conniving niece fucked me in the ladies room of the courthouse.”

Yeah. Sometimes discretion really was the better part of valor.