Ok Guys! You asked for home grown fanfiction... ...Forgive me in advance for run-on sentences and possible bad grammar. This is my "first-born". It's a gentle, lovely night that is as surprising for Mike as for his new lady. My Thanks go to Rodgers and Hammerstein and Lerner and Loewe, who knew how to say it, "Ms. L. C. Katz", lying curled up on her special cushion in my place of work. Ms. Katz stood in for Mike's cat Eleanor. To all LLs everywhere, with all of our dreams. Finally, thanks to the gentleman who inspired it all, because he *has* it all, CN. *******************************************************************Kathleen McManus is a sassy red-headed waitress in a "flea-pit diner down the block from the 2-7. I won't describe the place, except to say that Cragen has referred to it as "Ptomaine Heaven" The only reason Kate would set foot in a place like that is to earn extra money for night school. Feisty and freckled, she has an attitude that immediately lets Mike know that she can give as good as she gets. Seems that Mikey once made a pass at her older sister, and then broke the sister's heart. These two probably would have ignored each other if Kate hadn't slpped on a wet floor and ended up in Logan's lap. As far as attraction goes, Mikey is walking into doors at the 2-7, and Kathleen is joyously giving him a taste of his own medicine. Phil finally has to take Mike aside, mentioning things like absent-mindedness and a shorter fuse than usual. (It seems that Profaci had whistled "That's AMORE" once too often.) It looks like the playboy of the Western World has finally been caught in his own net. Because Cerretta wants to see the woman who actually brought Logan down, the two detectives take lunch in the "flea-pit". After seeing "Katie O'", (and six weeks of five-alarm chili), Phil tells Mike not to let this one get away. After two months or so of persistance (and indigestion for Mike), Kate's heart finally opens up when a bunch of daisies and a ticket for an outdoor concert arrive at work. Imagine a warm spring night in the park. You're sitting beside the one man you want to be with, yet yu still want to keep *some* mystery. The soft strains of CAROUSEL float out over the night, and a voice in your ear whispers, "Listen to the words, Katie O'". [IF I LOVED YOU, TIME AND AGAIN I WOULD TRY TO SAY... ...ALL I'D WANT YOU TO KNOW---IF I LOVED YOU, WORDS WOULDN'T COME IN AN EASY WAY...ROUND IN CIRCLES I'D GO---]etc. Kate shivers a little inside the ratty, mellow old leather coat Mike puts around her. "Oh, my gosh," she thinks, "what have i gotten into?" She remembers something her mother said: "Listen for the Song Without Words. You'll know when you hear it." "The Song Without Words". The wonderful communion between two people when words aren't needed. When there are only two people in the world. Suddenly the music ends. We see a youngish, tired cop with shadowed eyes and a lop-sided grin. She sees a knight in shining armour. We see a skinny little red-head with freckles and a CCNY tee shirt. He sees an Irish queen. "So do you want to stop by for a night cap?", Mike says, "Besides, I want you to meet my roommate." "You have a roommate? What is she---blonde or brunette?' "Oh, brunette---I've known her for years..." The temperature suddenly drops 20 degrees and the music has hit a flat. "Oh, I'd enjoy that, Mike", she said , with a gentle smile and veiled eyes. (Oh, Logan---Roommate or not---Nobody's going to make *me* go "off in the mist of day!") "Kate??" "Sorry, Mike, I was thinking of something else..." "We're here", he said as they paused in front of an old brownstone. "Hope the lift is working, I'm on the top floor." As the elevator rose, words were spinning in her head. ("Watch your back, McManus, or you'll end up as a trophy." "Trust your heart, McManus,... ...You *know* it's real. You heard the song......") "Dreaming again?", Mike said as he opened the door. Kate thought to herself, "this is no wolf-den, it's a home." Worn old "family" furniture had been recovered in a mellow plaid with bright pillows picking up the colours. Books that looked like they'd actually been *read* filled every available niche. A sound system was quietly playing Dave Brubek, and the smell of fresh coffee was coming from the kitchen. Suddenly Kate jumped! Something warm and soft was brushing round her ankles. She looked down to see a dainty, imperious cat, black and white, looking up with peridot eyes. "Michael Francis Logan---Do you mean to tell me that *this* is your roommate? You are B A A A A D!" "Hope you like cats," he said with a wicked grin. "her name's Eleanor." "LIKE---I *adore* them. She's exquisite!" Kate bent down to stroke Eleanor's soft shining fur, and suddenly the cat began to purr. "Lady, you must rank! She usually doesn't do *that* on a first date." Kate replied: "I think Eleanor and I understand each other perfectly. We're very selective...BTW, she said with laughter in her eyes, *I* don't purr on the first date either!" So they laughed and talked and gently barbed each other with the special kind of wit tha happens only between friends. Suddenly two gentle hands cupped his chin; and as she kissed him, she said "Listen to the Song, Mike...listen to the Song Without Words---" As he responded, and the kisses deepened, he realized for the first time what love "really" was. The giving and receiving of life--each from the other. The lessening of physical boundaries until only two spirits remained. When Mike saw the look in her eyes, he suddenly realised just what it was that the was giving to him. He flushed and turned away. "I don't deserve some one like this" he thought, "I've taken all my life--NEVER given myself in return." Kate felt his pain as she gathered him into her arms. "Listen to me, Mike. Listen with your heart." As he looked into her shining eyes, he realised that no matter what he had been or whom he had hurt, she loved him. She always had and always would. Kate sowly reached over to unbutton his shirt and explore his beauty inch by inch. She had always dreamed of seeing Michelangelo's "DAVID", and now she was. Strong and warm, and with a light in his grey eyes that the had always longed to see. As Mike caressed her, she felt like a goddess. Skinny, awkward Kathleen was being worshiped. "It really *is* a Sacrament", she thought. When the time came is was so simple..as natural as floating in a soft warm sea. Mike thought of the surf at Malibu. Forward and Back --Forward and Back. Each giving and receiving until they could hold no more. The wave crested and they fell asleep in each other's arms. The next day over breakfast, Mike shook his head and asked, "Katie O' ---don't get me wrong--but how did you know all this? About this "song" you've always talked about?" "Sweetheart, ALL women know this---We've known it since the beginning of time." She got up and padded over to the CD player and put in a disc. Suddenly the exquisite diction of Sir Richard Burton filled the air. "The way to handle a woman... ...is to love her, Simply love her, merely love her. Love Her. LOVE HER... ... ..." THE END (for this story!)
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