“Where’re you going now?” Guff asked.

“To the hospital. But before I do that, there’s someone I want to see.”

When the elevator arrived on the sixteenth floor, Sara stepped out and walked up the well-lit hallway. Noticing the corridor’s expensive carpet and intricate moldings, she made a mental note to herself. There was no way anyone on a government salary could afford this place without outside funding. At apartment 1604, she covered the peephole and rang the bell.

“Who is it?” a man’s voice asked.

“Sara Tate,” she replied.

When the door opened, Victor shot Sara a thin smirk. “Nice to see you, Ms. Tate. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I just want you to know one thing,” Sara said bluntly. “I know you set me up. And no matter how long it takes, I’m going to eventually prove it.”

“Prove what?” Victor asked.

Ignoring the question, she continued, “The committee may not be ready to indict, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. By the time I’m done, this suspension is going to seem like a-”

“I’m not suspended,” Victor interjected. “I took an official leave of absence. And if what you’re doing is threatening me, you better walk away before I file my own harassment complaint. You may think you’re Super ADA just because you saved the day, but you still have a lot to learn about the game. And just so you know, I don’t sweat rookies.”

“Keep giving me that attitude,” Sara warned, “I’m going to bury you with that cockiness. The truth isn’t hard to find – even the best ADAs can’t afford posh apartments on the Upper East Side without a little extra income.”

“Sara, let me give you a free philosophy lesson. There’s a subtle difference between truth and fact. Fact is objectively real, while truth must conform to fact. So if you can’t find the facts, you can never prove the truth. Understand what I’m saying?”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect crime, Victor. If I can’t prove it on this case, I’ll find another. Either way, I’m never giving up. No matter what you do, or how much voodoo philosophy you spout, I will never, ever, ever stop. I’m annoying like that.” Turning away from Victor’s door, Sara headed back toward the elevator. “Enjoy the rest of your day, asshole. All the rest of them are mine.”

Stopping by the nurse’s station before she entered Jared’s room, Sara asked, “How’s he doing?”

“Just great,” a short, bespectacled nurse answered. “With some love and a little physical therapy, he’ll be back on his feet in a few weeks. He seems to perk up when he’s getting attention.”

“He’s been whining to you, hasn’t he? He’s horrible when he’s sick.”

“All men are crybabies,” the nurse said. “He hasn’t been that bad, though. He’s saving all the good whining for you.”

“I’m sure he is,” Sara said as she walked toward the room. She pushed open the door and saw Jared sitting up in bed. His left arm was in a sling, and his right arm was hooked up to an IV, but color had finally returned to his face. Although Jared had been told to take it easy, he was busy writing notes on a legal pad. As soon as he saw Sara, he stopped.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m better. Now.”

“And your back?”

“Don’t worry about my back,” Jared said. “How’re you doing with Conrad?”

“I’ll get there,” she said. “It’ll take awhile, but I’ll get there.” Sara noted the pained but concerned look on her husband’s face. It was still a hard issue for him, and even as she tried to maintain a convincing facade, she couldn’t bear to see him like that. In an instant, she was slammed by an onslaught of emotion. Through gritted teeth, she could feel it working its way up from the bottom of her stomach. Not for Conrad, but for Jared.

“I’m really sorry about him…”

“It’s not him,” she insisted as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s never been him.”

Jared leaned forward, stretched his IV tubes to their limit, and embraced his wife. As he pulled her close, he knew he’d never let her go again. “Sara, I-”

“I know,” Sara said, holding him just as tight. “I’ve always known.” Resting against her husband, Sara slowly regained her composure. When she pulled away, she noticed the large jar of kosher half-sour pickles on the nightstand. “I see you got Pop’s bouquet.”

“Yeah, it just came.”

“I was going to get you some balloons, but I didn’t want to-”

“I don’t care about balloons. I have everything I need,” Jared said. Before Sara could reply, he added, “And in case there’s any doubt, I never said anything to-”

“You don’t have to worry – they found the splitter on our monitor early this morning. That’s how Elliott got everything.”

“So you’re ready to trust me again?”

“Honey, you know the answer to that,” Sara said. “I’m just sorry I got scared in the end.”

“I’m the only one who owes the apology. If I had as much faith in you as you had in me, I would’ve never called Victor in the first place. And if I hadn’t done that-”

“Let me interrupt right here,” Sara said. “I don’t want to play the if-then game anymore. As long as you’re safe, as long as we’re together, we’ll get through the rest. Now tell me what else is going on.”

“Nothing much,” he said, looking down at his legal pad. “Just trying to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

“On a legal pad? You can’t do that. Legal pads don’t work for creative thinking. They stifle imaginative thoughts.”

“I’m not having imaginative thoughts. I’m just making a list of all the people who owe us favors. Hopefully, one of them will be able to find me a job.” He looked down at the pad and reread the list of names. “Damn,” he said, dejectedly tossing it aside. “I can’t believe we’re going through this again.”

She sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand. “It’ll work out.”

“It’s like riding a constant roller coaster: we’re up, then we’re down; we’re happy, then we’re sad; you have a job, then you’re going to be fired; I get a new client, he turns out to be a psychopath; you shoot him, I get fired.”

Sara laughed. “At least you have your sense of humor.”

“I’d trade it for a job.”

“I know exactly how you feel. But after everything we’ve been through, I’m convinced of one thing: There is a grand plan. If I hadn’t gotten fired, I would’ve never been a prosecutor, which is right now the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me professionally. If you didn’t make partner, you weren’t meant to work at that law firm.”

“And if you weren’t standing here next to me, I’d have real problems to contend with. You’re absolutely right. I just don’t like having someone else make the decision for me.”

“Never again, my dear. All the rest are up to us. Besides, once the mayor comes in here for his photo op, your phone is going to start ringing off the hook with offers.”

“The mayor’s coming here?” Jared asked, sitting up straight.

“Sure, now you’re excited,” Sara said. “You’re going to be lapdog to the head honcho himself.”

“What time is he getting here?” Jared asked, flattening out the covers on his bed. He reached for his legal pad and smiled. “This could really turn things my way.”

Sara shook her head. “Let me give you a piece of advice: Play down the opportunism and play up the brave-but-injured hero. It’s a lot more appealing.”

Without answering, Jared flipped to a new page on his legal pad. “How much pull do you think the mayor really has?”

“I can’t believe you,” Sara said. “Why would you want to go back to a law firm? Even with the prestige factor, we both know that Wayne and Portnoy was terrible. Your hours stank, your work was unappreciated, you hated your bosses – the only reason you were there was for the money that comes with partnership, which was always promised, but never delivered.”

“That’s why I’m not looking at law firms.”