Unfortunately, I do not own L&O. These are all Dick Wolf's propriety.
First of all: My english is awful, really awful. But I did my best making this story, so I hope you guys understand and like. This is a very silly and short story that came in one of my dreams and I decided to write about it.
McCoy sat at his desk brushing his hands on his eyes. His migraine was attacking again.
Seventeen years. Seventeen years without Claire. Seventeen years without her smile. Without her eyes. Without her voice. He felt so terrible for that night that he decided to hide his feelings for all those years. No one knew how he felt. Even himself. But these feelings came with his migraine. Maybe these feelings came because of the case. A man who had affairs with his assistants. McCoy way of being. And then he killed her. Not McCoy way of being. When he heard that man telling about his affairs, he immediately remembered of Claire. Maybe that's the reason of why he's feeling so bad after seventeen years. Or maybe because he was just getting old and vulnerable. Who knows?
He watched Connie read some files and write some stuffs. She remembered Claire. He didn't know why, but she remembered. Some of her ideas remembered Claire. Whatever. Or he was just getting crazy. After Claire's death, the only thing he thought was job. Job. And job. Before, it was the same. But Claire was there. His sweet Claire.
He leaned on his chair and put his fingers close to his mouth. His migraine was getting more painful... and painful... and painful...
"Jack! Jack!" a sweet voice called him.
"Yes..?!" Jack answered back. "Claire?! But.. what are you doing here, woman?"
He was surprised... and scared. She looked like a ghost, with very pale skin. She was standing down there, just holding her briefcase.
"I'm here to see you in your dream."
"Dream? What dream?"
"The one you are having now."
He looked confused. She rolled her eyes and tried to find the words to explain what the hell that was. She just said "I don't blame you for my death. I never did. If you had stayed in the bar, we could die together. Or just you. Anyway, I just want to tell you: stop to blame yourself. And… I love you."
His eyes opened quickly. Connie was standing at the door, looking at him.
"Are you ok?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes, I am."
"Do you wanna a drink?"
"Yes. I'll pay."
"No. I'll pay. After all, it's your birthday"
Gee, it was his birthday. Maybe that message from Claire was his birthday present from his mind. Or maybe he was really getting old and crazy. Whatever.
End.
Or not.