Post-"Cherished"
"High Heels"
The phone buzzed, you couldn't really call the noise it made a 'ring', and Abbie jumped an inch in her chair. She picked it up cautiously and held it to her ear. "Yes?" she asked, in a long, but appropriate, southern drawl.
"Miss Carmichael? It's McCoy. Adam wants to see you in his office. Now."
"McCoy? Look, Jack, if we're going to work together for any extended period of time, I can't call you by your last name. It reminds me of gym in high school. And no, that's not a good thing. If you're for the gym atmosphere, keep up the Miss Carmichael bit. We'll see how long you can hold out before you crack and a "Why Abbie, darling, you look absolutely ravishing in that ensemble" slips out."
A snort was covered up on the other end. "Okay, Abb-ie. You win. But don't push it with the ensemble remark. It might come back and bite me in the ass. Just go down and talk to Adam. The worst he can do is speak to you in your native accent, right?"
"I resent that, Jack." Abbie snapped. She slammed the phone down. Who did he think he was? Insulting her Texas roots and southern twang. Besides, she thought it was catchy. And it had helped in Narcotics. That was for sure. 'I'll save this argument with Jack for later,' Abbie muttered.
Being new, she often got lost. It took her five minutes to reach Adam's office; a trip that shouldn't have taken the better side of a minute. Abbie walked in, was acknowledged by the all-too-familiar male nod (did men really think a nod could take the place of a handshake or a simple "hello"?), and sat down, realizing that was all the recognition she was going to get.
"Jack said you wanted to, uh, talk?" Abbie offered. 'I can't possibly be in trouble already,' she thought.
Adam looked up from his desk but didn't say anything.
'Oh, Christ, I'm going to be fired after my first case,' Abbie thought nervously. She began to explain herself, "Listen, Mr. Schiff, I'd like to apologize for not consulting with you or Jack before I executed my duties as your new ADA. Also, for obtaining-"
"Adam. Please, Abbie. I may have seniority, but Mr. Schiff makes me sound like I created the idea of the "Criminal Justice System". And one thing you have to learn around here? Don't apologize. Act as you see fit. Don't second-guess yourself. Hesitation is one of the biggest publicity gimmicks. The papers would be all over this office they caught whiff that my new ADA wasn't sure of herself. Besides, I just wanted to congratulate you for keeping tough skin throughout this case. Jack's wears a rigid façade, but on the inside, he's nothing but a motorcycle-loving softie."
"Jack? Rides a motorcycle?" Abbie choked out amidst laughter. This was too good. She made a mental note to bring it up with Jack if he ever tested her patience or skill. "Well, thank you, Adam. Fresh out of the Narcotics box, I was hoping I'd make a good first impression. I'll go tell Jack the good news: I'm here to stay!" Abbie chuckled. There was something about Adam that she admired, even though she had only worked with him for a short time. He was more experienced, being the all-powerful DA that he was, but he held his position with class.
* * *
"Jack, you better be careful. There's more to that woman than a pretty face and a Texas accent. She has real firepower, not to mention potential. Try not to smother her, okay? Give her a shot and loosen the reigns a little."
Jack relied on Adam to be consistent. Adam always took a special interest in the new ADAs: watching out for them, making sure they were adjusting, not allowing Jack to manipulate them. "Adam, how long have I been working for you? You know I'd never 'smother' her," Jack paused as he was interrupted by a small snort and headshake form Adam, then continued, "Besides, we've already bonded. She gave me a high-five at the end of the trial. How's that for firepower? Abbie's a real character."
"Just don't let her get the best of you." Adam warned.
"She couldn't handle the best of me," Jack joked. He exited Adam's office with a smile on his face. Every time a new ADA entered the scene, a piece was added to his metaphoric puzzle and he learned something valuable. Jack hoped Abbie could fill those (almost always high-heeled) shoes. * * *
Abbie liked to get to her office early. It gave her a chance to think before the noise that was tagged on to the DA's office commenced. She plopped gracefully into her desk chair and rolled things over in her mind. Adam and Jack. Jack and Adam. They were an interesting pair. Adam with his almost grandfatherly-like qualities towards her, and Jack with his surprise at her social ways. She had heard stories about Adam and knew he could be tough, but she assumed if you stayed on his good side, he'd continue to be amiable. Or as amiable as the criminal justice system would allow. Jack on the other hand had a much different reputation. She heard rumors that he was romantically involved with his assistants, he was a stickler for perfection, and he had some strange obsession with his head of thick hair. And now, he was a motorcyclist. Abbie shook her head as she pictured Jack sitting on his motorcycle, hair flowing in the breeze, while Adam looked on, the picture of mock-repulsion.
She walked out of her office and down the hallway. She appreciated the stillness, the quiet. Her heels click-clacking against the floor provided a steady rhythm. Abbie began humming an old tune her mother used to lull her to bed with. 'If she could only see me now,' Abbie mused. 'A big New York ADA with a plush office, complexly interesting bosses, and dressed in a snappy suit complete with heels'. Abbie laughed at the mental picture of herself. She had come a long way; from episodes in college that haunted her, from law school, from Narcotics, from Texas. But she was proud. Abbie stepped outside into the brisk New York cold and stopped to appreciate the beauty. The sun was rising, well on its way overhead, and the innocent blue sky was the picture of serenity. She realized how Jack had begun to grow on her and embraced the idea of a friendship with such a diverse man. The dangerous amount of cases she would try, and hopefully bring justice to, also became apparent to her. The transition from Narcotics to the DA's office was not going to be easy; being Jack McCoy's ADA was be a significant role to fill. Abbie glanced up at the sun, but forced to turn away from its intensity, looked at her feet. Her feet decked out in fancy-pants high heels. Certainly, she had come a long way, but the real journey had just begun.
The phone buzzed, you couldn't really call the noise it made a 'ring', and Abbie jumped an inch in her chair. She picked it up cautiously and held it to her ear. "Yes?" she asked, in a long, but appropriate, southern drawl.
"Miss Carmichael? It's McCoy. Adam wants to see you in his office. Now."
"McCoy? Look, Jack, if we're going to work together for any extended period of time, I can't call you by your last name. It reminds me of gym in high school. And no, that's not a good thing. If you're for the gym atmosphere, keep up the Miss Carmichael bit. We'll see how long you can hold out before you crack and a "Why Abbie, darling, you look absolutely ravishing in that ensemble" slips out."
A snort was covered up on the other end. "Okay, Abb-ie. You win. But don't push it with the ensemble remark. It might come back and bite me in the ass. Just go down and talk to Adam. The worst he can do is speak to you in your native accent, right?"
"I resent that, Jack." Abbie snapped. She slammed the phone down. Who did he think he was? Insulting her Texas roots and southern twang. Besides, she thought it was catchy. And it had helped in Narcotics. That was for sure. 'I'll save this argument with Jack for later,' Abbie muttered.
Being new, she often got lost. It took her five minutes to reach Adam's office; a trip that shouldn't have taken the better side of a minute. Abbie walked in, was acknowledged by the all-too-familiar male nod (did men really think a nod could take the place of a handshake or a simple "hello"?), and sat down, realizing that was all the recognition she was going to get.
"Jack said you wanted to, uh, talk?" Abbie offered. 'I can't possibly be in trouble already,' she thought.
Adam looked up from his desk but didn't say anything.
'Oh, Christ, I'm going to be fired after my first case,' Abbie thought nervously. She began to explain herself, "Listen, Mr. Schiff, I'd like to apologize for not consulting with you or Jack before I executed my duties as your new ADA. Also, for obtaining-"
"Adam. Please, Abbie. I may have seniority, but Mr. Schiff makes me sound like I created the idea of the "Criminal Justice System". And one thing you have to learn around here? Don't apologize. Act as you see fit. Don't second-guess yourself. Hesitation is one of the biggest publicity gimmicks. The papers would be all over this office they caught whiff that my new ADA wasn't sure of herself. Besides, I just wanted to congratulate you for keeping tough skin throughout this case. Jack's wears a rigid façade, but on the inside, he's nothing but a motorcycle-loving softie."
"Jack? Rides a motorcycle?" Abbie choked out amidst laughter. This was too good. She made a mental note to bring it up with Jack if he ever tested her patience or skill. "Well, thank you, Adam. Fresh out of the Narcotics box, I was hoping I'd make a good first impression. I'll go tell Jack the good news: I'm here to stay!" Abbie chuckled. There was something about Adam that she admired, even though she had only worked with him for a short time. He was more experienced, being the all-powerful DA that he was, but he held his position with class.
* * *
"Jack, you better be careful. There's more to that woman than a pretty face and a Texas accent. She has real firepower, not to mention potential. Try not to smother her, okay? Give her a shot and loosen the reigns a little."
Jack relied on Adam to be consistent. Adam always took a special interest in the new ADAs: watching out for them, making sure they were adjusting, not allowing Jack to manipulate them. "Adam, how long have I been working for you? You know I'd never 'smother' her," Jack paused as he was interrupted by a small snort and headshake form Adam, then continued, "Besides, we've already bonded. She gave me a high-five at the end of the trial. How's that for firepower? Abbie's a real character."
"Just don't let her get the best of you." Adam warned.
"She couldn't handle the best of me," Jack joked. He exited Adam's office with a smile on his face. Every time a new ADA entered the scene, a piece was added to his metaphoric puzzle and he learned something valuable. Jack hoped Abbie could fill those (almost always high-heeled) shoes. * * *
Abbie liked to get to her office early. It gave her a chance to think before the noise that was tagged on to the DA's office commenced. She plopped gracefully into her desk chair and rolled things over in her mind. Adam and Jack. Jack and Adam. They were an interesting pair. Adam with his almost grandfatherly-like qualities towards her, and Jack with his surprise at her social ways. She had heard stories about Adam and knew he could be tough, but she assumed if you stayed on his good side, he'd continue to be amiable. Or as amiable as the criminal justice system would allow. Jack on the other hand had a much different reputation. She heard rumors that he was romantically involved with his assistants, he was a stickler for perfection, and he had some strange obsession with his head of thick hair. And now, he was a motorcyclist. Abbie shook her head as she pictured Jack sitting on his motorcycle, hair flowing in the breeze, while Adam looked on, the picture of mock-repulsion.
She walked out of her office and down the hallway. She appreciated the stillness, the quiet. Her heels click-clacking against the floor provided a steady rhythm. Abbie began humming an old tune her mother used to lull her to bed with. 'If she could only see me now,' Abbie mused. 'A big New York ADA with a plush office, complexly interesting bosses, and dressed in a snappy suit complete with heels'. Abbie laughed at the mental picture of herself. She had come a long way; from episodes in college that haunted her, from law school, from Narcotics, from Texas. But she was proud. Abbie stepped outside into the brisk New York cold and stopped to appreciate the beauty. The sun was rising, well on its way overhead, and the innocent blue sky was the picture of serenity. She realized how Jack had begun to grow on her and embraced the idea of a friendship with such a diverse man. The dangerous amount of cases she would try, and hopefully bring justice to, also became apparent to her. The transition from Narcotics to the DA's office was not going to be easy; being Jack McCoy's ADA was be a significant role to fill. Abbie glanced up at the sun, but forced to turn away from its intensity, looked at her feet. Her feet decked out in fancy-pants high heels. Certainly, she had come a long way, but the real journey had just begun.
