Legacies
by Sam Lopez
Yet another standard disclaimer about all Law & Order personnel being property of the rightful owners, Dick Wolf Films, NBC, MCA, Universal Studios, whoever. This is merely a work of (fan)fiction and intended as a fan tribute to the show...so don't get pissed, Mr. Wolf!
Again, all thanks for any success of this and other Jack/fanfics to my fellow McCoy Toys, Brows, Chatters, and Droolers of all Ranks, Ages, and/or Genders.
Most of all, my sincere and deep thanks to a fantastic actor who is indeed inspiring to watch, Mr. Sam Waterston. Without him, needless to say, this wouldn't be here. Thank you.
Part 1
"...and what you have to decide is not, as Mr. Carron seems to think, whether or not the defendent knew the victim was an undercover officer--that point comes up later. What you need to decide on, beyond a reasonable doubt and with conviction, is whether the defendent brutally and callously killed Troy Bell. That he killed him--this isn't in doubt. We have presented the evidence necessary to convince you that Frank Young pulled the trigger. If he was nervous--acting in self-defense, as my esteemed colleague has tried to present--" Jack McCoy looked long and hard at the tall, well-built defendent before continuing, "--then why did he empty all nine bullets in his automatic into Troy Bell? And why was he found with a fresh clip in the gun not four blocks away, having a beer to celebrate?"
McCoy walked slowly along the jury box railing, relishing the summation and feeling just a bit righteous about this one, and stopped at one end. He glanced briefly at Claire Kincaid in the second chair and saw she knew he was on a roll as well. He risked a very small smile before turning and placing both hands on the railing, leaning on the box, watching the jury hang on his every word.
"This was *not* about self-defense. It was about murder, murder in the first degree. Premeditated, malicious, cold." Jack leaned his considerable length into the box and scanned the jury with glaring, accusative eyes. "That's all you have to know. And all you have to do? Say he did it. Frank Young murdered Troy Bell--with malice, with cruelty, with cold and brutal assurance. I have shown you he has. Do not be moved by my respected colleague's attempts to color what happened. Just decide--guilty. Everything else--that's for a later day. Just decide on this one thing now--the guilt of Frank Young in the murder of Troy Bell. And you will have done your duty to society."
With that, Jack straightened, scanned the jury once more, and walked slowly around to sit at the table next to Claire. They glanced at each other and instantly Jack understood--Claire, at least, thought they had won. He settled into his chair as the judge directed the jury and they were dismissed.
Claire and Jack waited in the small coffee cubbyhole near the courtroom, huddled over their coffee, both too excited to say much more than short, enthusiastic sentences about the case.
"You had them. Right there, Jack. Juror Six was practically leaping up to shout Hallelu!" Claire smiled up at Jack as he nervously stirred his coffee for the tenth time without tasting it.
"God, I hope so. You know--I felt everything fell into place in there. I don't know why--"
"--why the trial took so long?" Claire finished. Jack nodded, shifting unconsciously from foot to foot. Claire leaned slightly against him until he realized he was rocking back and forth. He stopped himself.
"Jack. There were just all kinds of bull Carron had to throw. That's all."
"Son of a bitch knows his way around a motion to suppress, that's for sure." Jack finally tasted his coffee, grimaced, and threw it away. He looked in Claire's cup and saw it was gone. "How the hell can you drink that?" he asked in wonder. Claire looked down, shrugged, and threw the cup away.
"You think you're the only one nervous? Oh, Jeez--Detective?" Claire was surprised to see Detective Lennie Briscoe coming towards them already. Fast behind him was Detective Rey Curtis, far less neutral-appearing than Briscoe. From Curtis' slightly bouncing stride and his set, righteous look, she knew that the jury was in and he thought the lawyers had won.
McCoy turned quickly, also taking in Curtis' appearance. He smiled inside, but outwardly frowned a little as he nodded at Briscoe. "Already?"
"Counselors. Yep. That was a hell of a show," Briscoe said. "They almost *ran* back in."
Jack took Claire's arm lightly as he steered back toward the courtroom. Briscoe and Curtis followed, and both men noticed the touch. Briscoe smiled outwardly and Rey shook his head.
The jury had only been out twenty minutes. Frank Young was guilty by decision of his peers. Sentencing would take place later, and McCoy had every intention of asking for the death penalty if Adam Schiff approved.
Claire Kincaid knew this, without being told. As she talked to the detectives about the man they had collared, she watched Jack from the corner of her eye as he packed his files and notes up. He looked excited, almost flushed. *Jesus, this is really what keeps him going,* she thought.
She had finished speaking to Curtis and Briscoe and they were leaving when Jack handed her briefcase to her. He was smiling and completely unable to contain his easy, complete, Cheshire-cat satisfaction at doing his job well.
"Thanks. Jack--you shouldn't look so happy--it was no cakewalk," she said, only a little annoyed. His grin grew wider and he leaned close, conspiritorial.
"Why should I let Carron know that?" In spite of the courtroom, Claire let out a tiny chuckle and smiled. Carron was conferring with his client and when he looked at them, Claire knew he was afraid. *Then again,* she thought briefly, *when Jack gets going he's a real terror.*
"Come on. We can decide on how to present the penalty to Adam. Or--" Jack's smiled faltered a second--"do you want me to present it to him by myself? It wouldn't be a huge problem."
Claire sighed, slinging her briefcase on its strap over her shoulder and leading the way out of the courtroom. "No," she finally said, somewhat resigned. "I suppose--well, don't worry, Jack. I'll be there, even if I can't muster up any enthusiasm."
Jack sighed inwardly. He didn't want to get into it right now--he felt too good, too excited. And it was late.
As they reached their offices, Jack walked Claire over to hers and stood pensively for a moment. Claire waited for him to speak, hand on doorknob.
"Dinner? We won't talk shop, I swear. Anywhere you want, for putting up with my insanity over this case. I owe you," he finished, looking intently at her. Claire reached out and held his hand briefly, only a moment before letting go. They still tried their best to pretend nothing was happening--at least at work. He leaned closer, waiting, hoping.
"All right--I'm fine, Jack. I can't convince you not to eat veal either--some things just aren't meant to change." She smiled up at him, briefly tugged his tie, and went into her office. Jack smiled lopsidedly and went into his.
Claire knocked softly and entered at Jack's "come in," carrying her biker jacket. He was pulling his belt on, already in his standard white button-down shirt, faded jeans hugging his legs--*doesn't he have anything to wear besides those?* Claire half-wondered. She sat down, looking much more relaxed in her jeans--*then again, I should talk,* she thought--and blue t-shirt lightly tucked into the jeans. Jack pulled the belt around hard and cinched it. He looked down at his waist, amazed that the belt was secured on the last hole and he still felt he'd lose his jeans. He looked up and sheepishly grinned.
"And to think I was worried about getting fat when I got old," he said, getting his leather jacket from its hanger as Claire flopped tiredly down on his couch. Jack pulled on his jacket and sat down on the opposite end, pulling Claire's legs up so that her feet in their tiny tennis shoes rested on his lap. He rubbed her knee affectionately, noting the exhaustion in her eyes.
"Are you sure you're up for dinner? You look tired," he asked softly, aware that every time a capital case with death potentially attached came through, Claire felt slightly lost and defeated even in their combined victory. She sighed heavily and let her head fall back.
"Yes. I'm tired and I want to eat. So you buy." She was smiling when her head came back up. "And no veal, Jack."
McCoy leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, lingering to pick up the scent of her light perfume. It never failed to enervate him. He stood and pulled her up, bringing her in for a nearly breathless embrace. She was laughing when he let go.
"All right! You don't have to crush me to get me to go with you." She slapped his arm hard and he laughed and hugged her again, spinning once and letting her back down.
"You really--you're good for me, Claire, you know that?" he said appreciatively. Claire was taken slightly by surprise at his intensity as he said it. She knew she was better at hiding emotions than he was--but sometimes, it pleased her to no end to both watch Jack get emotional outside court and to feel herself loosening up as well. They were good for each other.
"Right, Jack. You're still taking me to dinner, Romeo."
Jack got his helmet and took her arm, tucking it in his. "Your charger awaits. Sorry it's only a bicycle built for two."
"That's perfect."
Part 2
They decided while tooling around town to go to a small and quiet place they had come to enjoy as cozy and personal. It wasn't the best place, but it had connotations of romance for them--it was the first place they had gone out to eat as a couple, and they had since become semi-regulars. Jack pulled into the slightly shabby parking lot in front of the restaurant and sighed in anticipatory pleasure as he removed his helmet.
"I love this place. I can still taste the first thing I ordered here--General Tso's Chicken. God, it was wonderful--" he looked meaningfully at Claire as she smoothed her hair back and hopped off the bike "--do you remember?" Jack threw his leg over the bike and put Claire's helmet in the seat compartment, running one hand over his slightly ruffled hair.
"Yes. The food's *so* good here, Jack. Come on, love, I'm hungry...we can reminisce inside." Jack took her hand and kissed it, then held it tightly as they walked in, looking quite relaxed and casual for two assistant District Attorneys.
The place was incredibly dim and suffused with a hazy light and muffled noise. Jack squinted around until he saw a booth and guided Claire over. They had hardly sat down when a waiter sidled up with an enormous smile.
"Hello! It's good to see you again--let me see...whisky neat and a gin and tonic?" he asked quickly. Even though Claire didn't feel particularly like drinking, she laughed and nodded, amused that the waiter remembered. Jack smiled as well and both ordered immediately, not interested in changing their usual order.
When the waiter had gone, Jack turned his electric-bulb smile to Claire and reached out to take one of her hands. "How are you, babe?"
Claire smiled back, finding Jack's silly smile irresistible. "Fine. You look like you're gonna explode, Jack. That's the biggest grin I've ever seen on you."
Jack laughed, his humor immense. He leaned over and kissed Claire, neither concerned about being seen now. For a moment they held the kiss over the table, drinking in each other's scents. Claire finally sat back and allowed her humor to show a little in the form of a small, wise grin.
"Love you," Jack said. His eyes were almost sparkling with humor and cheer, and a little bit of wild happiness. Claire smiled wider and under the table, stretched one leg out until she could rest it on one of Jack's legs. He slipped one hand off the table and simply placed it on her ankle, pleased to be able to touch her.
"I love you too. You wanna give that calf a bit of a rub? I *hate* being in heels all day."
Jack chuckled and used both hands to gently massage Claire's knotted calf muscle. "For you, anything, really."
They were working on their soup when Jack started to watch someone who was watching them from the bar. He glanced at Claire and then back at the man, who sat leaning against the bar, drinking a beer. Jack unconsciously slowed his eating as he felt a strange but unmistakable defensiveness grow in him. He reached out a hand for Claire's as he watched the man.
"Hm? What is it, Jack?" Claire asked, wondering at his distracted look. Jack shook his head slowly.
"Nothing...how's the soup?"
"Excellent--oh, and here comes the food!"
For a few minutes Jack stopped watching the man as they dug into their food. They were talking quietly when he noticed the man had shifted places slightly, moving to a stool at the bar that put him in Claire's line of sight. To watch him now, Jack had to turn his head, and he did not want to bring Claire's attention to the man. He tried to watch him from the corner of his eye as they ate and made small talk, but he had to turn his head.
Claire looked up and noticed Jack's slightly cocked head. It took her a second to see who he was trying so hard not to be seen watching, and finally noticed the scruffy man at the bar.
"Jack? What's wrong?" she asked. Jack whirled his head around so fast Claire was able to catch a guilty look on his face before it masked over into the standard Jack grin.
"Huh? Oh, I thought we'd seen that guy in court. Sorry, I'm being a lousy dinner date."
"No, you're fine...hmm. He doesn't look familiar to me. Eat, Jack. The general calls," Claire chided, motioning to Jack's half-eaten dinner. Jack reluctantly looked down and began to eat slowly, resisting the impulse to stare again.