Disclaimer: I do not own any L&O characters they belong to Dick Wolfe. I also do not own Thriller that belongs to Michael Jackson. I'm just writing this for fun.

Summary: Out of date Ice-Cream + Michael Jackson + impure thoughts about Mike Logan, wields unexpected results for Carolyn Barek. MC

Author's Note: So in Australia we have this show called 20 to 1 right? It's a countdown really on things like 'Greatest ROmance movies' 'Most important moments' etc. So anyway 'Thriller' turned up in the countdown for video clips, and this little plot bunny kept bugging me to write I hope you enjoy this.

Also this is for Star Jelly since she wanted me to write something happy with Caro and Mike...I tried.

Set some time during Season 5.

She should have known.

But alas Carolyn Barek hadn't known which in the end she was okay with...if not slightly worried.

She'd arrived home one night in the heat of summer. Sweat was practically rolling off her body, and the moment she got inside her apartment she kicked the shoes off, pulled off her pants, and ripped off her shirt. Leaving all her stuff on the floor, she walked through her stuffy apartment, heading straight for the air-con.

Of course though on what Carolyn had to classify as the hottest day of the year it was broken.

"Fuck." she swore bitterly.

She briefly considered calling up Logan and crashing at his place for the night - he had air con right? She shook her head, nope she wouldn't do that - besides hadn't he mentioned going out with someone - he'd need all the cool air he could get. She grinned, as an image of him topless, muscles tensed, sweat glistening all over his body, that devilish twinkle in his eyes, that crooked grin...


Hold up.

This was her partner...damn the heat really must be getting to her. She really needed to cool herself down.

She darted around her apartment in a mad rush, closing all the blinds in an effort to keep the sun out. It just made her hotter, and Carolyn pulled her hair back out her face, rubbing her head. Her body was covered in sweat - it was gross to say the least.

Her stomach grumbled, and she sighed heading into her kitchen. She didn't feel like cooking - no point adding more heat to her already sauna of an apartment. Sighing she dug through her freezer, welcoming the cold air that rushed over her. Her hands came across some ice-cream which was buried in the back. Grabbing a spoon she headed to her living room.

Pulling the lid off she immediately got to work on her 'dinner'. It was amazing, so cold, so smooth, so perfect for this bitch of a day. Yep, ice cream was a gift from the God's.

She turned on her MP3 player, popped in her head phones, and grinned as Michael Jackson came on, bobbing her head slightly to his voice that wormed its way into her soul. She ate slowly, allowing it to melt in her mouth, stretched out on the couch.

"Cause this is Thriller, Thriller night, and no ones gonna save you from the beast about to strike..." sung along Carolyn, well aware she was out of tune. She'd never been a singer.

But she'd been a dancer.

Even as she sat there, her body seem to twitch in time; a strange desire to perform the famous 'Thriller' dance crept in her mind. She could still remember working out that dance with her friends after the video clip first came out. She bit her lip - did Logan like Michael Jackson? She doubted he would - he didn't seem the type.

In fact she had a pretty good idea about how Mike might view him. Though he'd respect his music - Michael Jackson was the King of Pop after all...but who knew? She could read her partner but there were times when he caught her off guard.

That still left the question of what kind of music he would like?

She could see him having some roots in rock, the fast paced drum beats, the fast paced guitar melodies...but with a touch of jazz. Definitely a touch of jazz, she grinned remembering his and Goren's wild Sinatra binge during the Garret case. Maybe even a bit of blues...

She grinned at the thought - now that would be ironic - blues and Logan? Her father had always loved blues so as a child she'd fallen in love with them too. She and her father would sit for hours listening to old records, whilst her mother would chide them for not helping with the housework.

One of her favourite songs had been 'Crossroad Blues' by Robert Johnson...he was an amazing blues singer; words could not describe his music. His death had been a tragedy in her opinion, and she never forgot how her father would go on about 'deal making with the devil' and the thought of musicians selling their souls for mastery of their craft, and how foolish it was - to give up their lives for a moment of triumphant.

In some ways she supposed Logan was a bit like that - when he'd punched that politician he had sold his soul, sold his life...but now the hothead, the black sheep, the fallen angel, had been returned to grace, reclaimed his soul.

She shook her head, she was reading way too much into this. Though the one thing she was sure about was that Logan was a jazz man - he had that side to him, that dangerous, smooth, seductive, erratic side. Jazz was like that. Logan was like that.

She could clearly picture him at some small jazz club, charming ladies, laughing with friends, arms wrapped around her, guiding her across the floor, his mouth resting gently on her forehead, her body pressed against his...

This was just getting ridiculous - damn her air con!

She placed down the now finished tub, and got to her feet, glancing at the clock. She stared at it in shock for a few minutes. No way that much time had passed, and yet she couldn't deny it. Two hours had passed since she'd gotten home. It was now eight.

Sighing, she slipped off her head phones, turned on her CD player and moonwalking towards her bathroom as Michael Jackson's voice filled her apartment. She hit the bathroom, and ditched her underwear, slipping into the shower, crying in relief as the cold stream of water hit her over heated body.

She was about to grab the shampoo when her doorbell rang.

She tried to ignore it but it kept on buzzing, over and over again. Who was it? Grumbling, she turned off the taps and slipped her towel tightly around her body. As she walked down her hallway, she was a lot darker then before...and colder...

Something howled.

She froze for a moment but shook her head. It was just her CD player, just Thriller, nothing to worry about.

The doorbell kept on ringing.

She opened the door, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, but as she opened it she froze. No way, this wasn't possible. Her heart seemed to stop, as she took in who stood before her. She opened her mouth to speak but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. What was he doing here?

What was Mike doing here?

And why was he dressed like that? Tight black pants, an open necked gray shirt, his hair combed back, his eyes light and full of mischief, and that wasn't the worst thing. His was like she was paralysed.

No she was paralysed.

Because it was Mike, and she blushed suddenly as she saw his eyes take in her appearance...why had she worn her towel to the door? She should've gotten change; hell was this going to make it awkward at work. She slowly stepped back into the darkness of her apartment.

As she did, she became aware of the fact he hadn't said a thing, and that from the expression on his face...he was impressed, if not aroused. She could tell - it was that glint in his eye, the way his grin started to curl up.

"Uhhhhh..." she started to say slowly, and suddenly he proceeded forward, the door slamming behind him. He pushed her against the wall, his hands ice cold against her red hot body, his mouth trailing her neckline.

She knew something was wrong. As he gently kissed her, she closed her eye;, half hoping this was all in her imagination though a part of her wanted this to be real. Especially, as his hand started to move up her spine.

But her logical side immediately told her to end it now.

Her eyes opened and she pushed him back, hands pulling up the towel, still flattened against the wall, shivering slightly. And that's when she noticed that she was no longer in her apartment, that Mike's eyes weren't their usual hard green, but bright amber. That he was now in a red leather jacket...and that her back felt like it was against stone; and before her was a grave yard.

Her logical side seemed to go to hell at that moment.

Her whole body shook as what looked like corpses seemed to push through the earth. Some of them were mere bones, some were still discomposing. This wasn't real, this wasn't real, this so wasn't real. But as she watched the things approach and saw Mike's seductive smile, his left hand gently caressing her bare skin.

She hadn't noticed it, but now, his touch - it seemed to send shockwaves through her body. Her breathing intensified, as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her. But nothing added up. It didn't add up.

She bolted.

Her feet seemed to scream in agony as they hit rough gravel, her hands still holding up her towel, her wet hair flying back. Each breath seemed a strain, and she glanced back to see Mike and the things following her...

"Darkness falls across the land,

And the midnight hour draws close to hand,

Those who run from its embrace,

Their hearts won't replace,

Those inner most desires,

As the Ghouls of a thousand years prior,

Seek their master's eternal prize,

As his lover voice leads them with her cries,

For no mere mortal can resist,

The evil of the Thriller."

She froze, in the middle of the crossroad...where the hell had that ominous voice come from? This was way too weird, this was freaking weird...

She must be having heat stroke or something.

And that's when she noticed how the things were closing in her, circling her. Her heart rate increased, and she glanced around her, looking for an escape route. As she turned to the left she saw him, walking confidently up to her, that grin still plastered on his face.

She couldn't move, and as his arms pulled her against his body, his hands pulling hers down, the proximity of their bodies being the only thing keeping her towel up, she felt tiny, so small compared to him. His right hand crept up and brushed back her hair. His thumb traced her lips, his eyes focusing only on her.

The things grumbled around her.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I'll protect you,"

And then he kissed her.

She kissed back, hands wrapping around his body, as did his. After what seemed like a millennium, she pulled back, leaning against him. She felt so complete, and yet so lost, like something had been taken from her, but she'd gained something. She sighed, and whispered, "Why do I feel like I just sold my soul?"

His body shook in laughter - not cruel laughter, but warm, and heart felt...though it had a dark edge to it, a hidden meaning. Resting his head against her, he replied, "Because your mine, my Caro..."

"No one else's?" she breathed, heart racing.

"That right," he grinned, "Just mine, my Caro."

She closed her eyes, snuggling against him. She was okay with that...though she might have to kick him in the balls later for making her his. Still, this wasn't so bad...




She groaned...couldn't the ringing just go away?




Fine! She opened her eyes, and then blinked in shock. Once again she was in darkness except this time she was back in her apartment; towel wrapped around her body, curled up on her couch, the sounds of car horns outside.

She glanced around in confusion.

What was going on with her? She peered down and grabbed the ice-cream tub, and glared at it. It was out of date by about one week...great so out of date ice cream had just made her hallucinate about her partner? Perfect, that wasn't strange at all.




Groaning she got up, searching for her phone. And that's when she realised...why was she in her towel? On her couch? And wet?

What the...

And Thriller kept on playing.


Author's Note: So what did you guys think? Also hasn't been beta's so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.