A/N – a simple, if dark, story, a crossover of sorts that touches canon but does not adhere to it. As my brother is a federal law enforcement agent, the details of a protective service agent are accurate. It's more a story of the endurance of the human spirit in the face of violence and upheaval and potential loss, written to help exorcise my own demons about the approaching deaths of two dear friends.
Crimson and Clover
-Chapter 1-
Carlo Viola summoned Jackie Aprile and Tony Soprano after a lengthy discussion with his underboss. It was time, they agreed, to test these young rising stars. "Let's see if these boys have the balls they think they do." Carlo's impatience was obvious and ominous.
When Tony and Jackie hustled into the "office" – the back room of Satriale's Pork Store – they stood in front of their boss and respectfully waited.
He stared at them, measuring them with his penetrating gaze. "You two think you're such hot shit," he said, "well, our New York friends have asked for help with a sensitive matter, help that can't be traced back to them. It's going to bring heat. Are you up to it?"
Jackie cut an appraising glance at his best friend, then looked at the boss again. "Yeah, we're up for it."
Carlo's smile was cold. "I love the confidence of youth. OK, hotshot, you need to whack two New York district attorneys. We know their movements, they're creatures of habit. We'll provide cold pieces. Take them out, and the case against our friend goes away. Little Stevie will give you the particulars. If you go down, we won't help you."
"We won't fail," Tony said. "When?"
"As soon as possible. Little Stevie will explain everything." He dismissed them with a nod. Little Stevie Spananero stepped up and jerked his thumb, leading them into the back alley behind the pork store. He provided photographs, daily routines, and weapons, then warned them they were on their own. Succeed, he said, and you'll get your button. Fail, and you do your time alone. It was a simple proposition, well within the capabilities of these young, ambitious men, but ever cynical Carlo had his doubts about the success of this mission, infecting Little Stevie. He was glad he wasn't part of the New York crew, the heat was going to be unbearable with this one. Tony and Jackie better prove their swaggering worth. Little Stevie watched them climb in Jackie's car and thought this is going to be a wild ride. It was the first time he'd doubted Carlo Viola's wisdom. Everyone would be caught in the fallout.
--xx—
It was nearly eight when Jack McCoy and Claire Kincaid finished for the day. "Devlin's?" he asked, referring to their favorite Irish pub.
She nodded, collecting files and attempting order in the wake of legal chaos. Jack changed into a pair of faded jeans, grabbed his jacket, and walked out with her. They signed out with Graham, then waited by elevators.
"Tired?" Jack asked.
Claire nodded. "Futility has that effect on me." She attempted a bright smile and failed. "You really think we'll get a conviction on Lupertazi?"
Jack shrugged as the elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. She stepped in ahead of him, then leaned against him as the doors closed on the office. "I guess we're working tomorrow?" She looked up as he put his hand on her back.
"Yeah." Jack watched the numbers descend. "We go to trial in two weeks, we have to be ready." The car braked slowly, and he said, "I hate working Saturdays, too, but what can I say?"
The doors opened on a nearly deserted lobby. "We'll make it up on Sunday," he said, smiling. "We'll spend the whole day in bed."
She playfully slapped his back. "Horndog." They left through the front doors. It was three blocks to Devlin's Pub. Jack held the door for her, and they walked into the boisterous, smoky pub they loved. It was a favorite with the district attorneys, a place where buttoned-down ADAs could relax without fear of subtle reprisals. Jack guided Claire to a couple of empty stools at the bar.
The bartender, Jamie, knew them well and poured their drinks as soon as he saw them. Jamie was the first to know they were falling in love, the first to realize when they'd finally consummated the relationship, listened unobtrusively as they talked of discretion, gossip, commitment, as well as picking up tidbits about the cases they were prosecuting. He liked them, rooted for them as they practiced discretion in the face of absurd regulations regarding subordinates and superiors, and turned a deaf ear to the casual bribes from other attorneys wanting to know what he overheard.
Jack was unusually quiet. Claire sipped her drink, then focused on him, putting her hand on his thigh. "What," she said.
Jack sighed, then sipped his single malt scotch. "Lupertazi, what else? We've already lost one witness."
"The others are under protection," she said. "He can't get to them."
Jack's smile was tinged with disbelief that she was still so naïve. "A determined man can get to anyone," he said, and signaled Jamie for another round. "Losing Alfredo was a big hit, but as long as we have the others, we should be able to convict him."
"What I don't understand is why he did the hit himself. He usually stays away from the dirty work."
Jack shook his head. "Wet work," he corrected, and picked up his fresh drink. "He whacked this guy because it was personal, the little bastard took out Carmine's nephew." He shrugged. "I agree, it's usually Johnny Sack's job, but I guess Carmine felt he had to make a show of strength."
"You've prosecuted mobsters before."
"I have. And I have to say I prefer the Italians to the Russians or Chinese, the Italians respect certain unwritten rules."
"Such as."
"Families are off limits, as are cops and the DA's office. This is going to be long and ugly, expect to work a lot of weekends."
Claire looked at her watch. She didn't want to spend the evening on this stool, watching Jack get morosely drunk as he contemplated the difficulties of successfully prosecuting the mob. She'd give him one more drink, then urge him to come home with her.
A/N- This will be a multi-chapter fic. I intend to publish two chapters at a time. Let me know what you think of it.
