From There to Here
Disclaimer: I don't own them (or anything much else, either)
Author's Note: (For people who are observant, you may notice this story was up before, for about five minutes. This time I promise it will stay) This story began as an attempt to dig deeper into the beginnings of the friendship between Jamie and Jack, but then it just ran away with me. I suppose you could call it a "post-post Aftershock" story, because it focuses on events that take place shortly after, in and around the episode "Causa Mortis."
Also – Jack's sections of this story are very angst-y. You've been warned.
Chapter 1: A Thousand Little Ways
Jamie Ross was coming to the realization that the New York County District Attorney's office was a confusing place to work. Nearly four months after being hired, she was still getting lost in the hallways, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people surrounding her. At Gorton and Steinhart she'd been lucky enough to have her own office, and she'd grown accustomed to the privacy and quiet. Here she'd been assigned to a temporary cubicle, surrounded by other ADA's all doing their best to get noticed.
It was already four in the afternoon and Jamie was starting to glance at the clock, looking forward to going home. That morning Katie had decided to throw a tantrum because Mommy was going, and it tore Jamie apart to leave her crying daughter behind. She trusted her live-in babysitter absolutely, but being a working mother still wasn't always easy.
"Jamie. Can you take this arraignment?" David, her supervisor, dropped a file on her desk, jolting Jamie out of her thoughts.
"Sure," Jamie said automatically as she took the case file and paged through it, "Wait. This is a capital charge. Shouldn't this go up to major felonies?"
"It should," David acknowledged, "But they're short up there right now. I think you can handle it."
"I'll get started on it right away." Jamie smiled at David, who nodded back and went on with his pile of case files to the next cubicle.
Jamie paged through the file again. The police report was startling, to say the least – someone had killed a mother of four simply to steal her car – but there was even a tape of this woman pleading with her killer for her life.
Jamie shook her head as she finished reading. She thought as a defense attorney she'd seen just about everything, but this was the last straw. This was a chance, she decided – a chance to finally do some good and put a murderer behind bars (or maybe even six feet under) instead of making excuses for them.
Purely on a personal note, Jamie also realized, a capital case was a good way to get noticed and maybe, just maybe get out of this cubicle in the district attorney's office's version of purgatory.
She would start by making sure this SOB didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of bail. The arraignment was scheduled for first thing in the morning – more than enough time to get a brief together. Jamie grabbed her briefcase and headed for the law library.
Meanwhile, a few floors above, Jack McCoy was trying everything he could not to look out the front window of his office.
For the past few weeks he'd been working with the blinds closed, until someone had stopped by and asked him why. Jack had stammered some excuse about light in the hallway distracting him, but he realized that he would have to open the damn things sooner or later. So today he had left them open, but instead of confronting the view he was working as much as he could with his back to the window.
He knew it was ridiculous. If Claire were here even she would agree. He could picture exactly the way she would roll her eyes at him over it.
And yet he could not let himself look at that empty desk. Ridiculous or not, he couldn't do it.
Better to just keep working, Jack thought, as he buried his nose in a case file. Better to just keep on working and not think about anything but the intricacies of various "C" and "D" level felonies.
Strangely enough, for some reason, those "D" felonies took all of his concentration. They were the sort of things he would normally have expected Claire to take care of on her own, the types of cases he would once have been able to handle in his sleep. Now it was suddenly exhausting just to figure out which line to complete on a form. It was all a burden, an effort.
Jack sighed and took another swig from his third cup of coffee that day. Shape up, he chided himself, you have work to do.
Jamie arrived bright and early for the arraignment the next morning and squeezed her way through the crowded courtroom to wait for her case to be called. She sat next to two other ADA's who seemed more interested in their conversation than the case files they had in their hands.
'There's an open position up in major felonies, did you hear?" One asked the other, and Jamie's ears perked up. David had said they were short, hadn't he?
"Ooh, wouldn't that be an assignment."
"Easy for you to say. You did just get promoted over to Auto Crimes, didn't you?"
"I wouldn't call it a promotion, Olivia. I'd call it a lateral move. Same status, different department."
"Well, you're lucky. You know who's just dying for that open spot, don't you?"
"Let me guess. It wouldn't be Carmichael, would it?"
They both laughed.
"Exactly," Olivia said, "Ever since Ricci got promoted over to Rackets she has been out of her mind over it. But she won't get it."
"No, she won't. And neither will you or I, at least not right now."
"My case is up. I'll talk to you later."
Olivia stood up and bolted for the podium, and the other woman smiled over at Jamie.
"I hate waiting, don't you?"
Jamie nodded in agreement.
"I hope they hurry," The woman continued, "I have a grand jury in two hours. They called me for this at the last possible second. What's your case?" She looked over at Jamie.
"First degree murder." Jamie replied, and the other ADA's eyes widened.
"Ooh," She said, "Now that beats penny-ante drug cases and stolen cars, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so." Jamie said.
"My name is Paige Kendall," The woman said, holding her briefcase on her lap with one hand and extending the other out to Jamie, "I'm up in auto crimes. You know, grand theft auto, driving under the influence, that sort of thing. The biggest felony I ever see is vehicular homicide. You?"
"Jamie Ross," Jamie shook Paige's outstretched hand, "I'm in the general pool right now. Waiting for a permanent assignment."
"Well, they must have some faith in you to hand you that to begin with." Paige said.
"I've been a criminal defense attorney for five years." Jamie said, and Paige nodded again.
"Oh. Welcome to the other side of the aisle, then," Paige smiled, "And that's my case. Nice meeting you."
Jamie returned to reviewing her brief for the few minutes she had until she heard her own case called.
"People vs. Fernando Salva, murder in the first degree, robbery in the first degree."
"What's your plea, Mr. Salva?" Judge Gance asked as she peered at Fernando Salva from the height of her bench.
"Not guilty." He said.
"No bail, Your Honor, the people want Mr. Salva remanded to custody." Jamie spoke up.
"Your Honor," retorted Salva's attorney, a man who looked as if he was old enough to have assisted Clarence Darrow himself, "Mr. Salva has no record, he has lived in the same apartment with his grandmother since the age of ten…"
"And he kills people," Jamie interjected, peeved by his attitude, "This is a capital charge. Mr. Salva killed a total stranger, a mother of four, to steal her car."
"Unlike my young colleague," Salva's attorney shot back, "I believe in litigation before incarceration, as did the founding fathers."
Oh please, Jamie thought, "US v. Salerno, there's no constitutional right to bail."
"But in the State of New York…" He continued, and Jamie cut him off once again.
"The New York appellate division ruled similarly in People ex Shapiro v. The Keeper of City Prisons. I've prepared a brief."
The bailiff took Jamie's brief and handed it to Judge Gance, who looked at it with a fond smile on her face.
"Keeper of City Prisons," She said, "I haven't heard that cite since law school."
"Your Honor," the Defense Attorney sputtered a bit, "My client meets all of the customary standards for bail. I mean, I'd have prepared a brief…"
Judge Gance stopped him with a glare.
"You should have, Mr. Mercer," She said, "Defendant is remanded to custody." She banged her gavel and called for the next case, and Jamie couldn't help but shoot a self-satisfied smirk at Fernando Salva.
This time, she thought to herself, if I have anything to say about it, the system will work the way it's supposed to.
Jamie knew it was a bit forward of her, but after the arraignment she called Adam Schiff's office. She had barely seen the district attorney since he'd hired her, after her third interview four months earlier, but he had always taken the time out to say hello to her and ask how things were going the few times she had seen him. Most of the other ADA's in her position were lucky if he knew their names.
"So, Miss Ross, have a seat," Adam said, gesturing towards the couch in his office and sitting down in the leather easy chair opposite, "What is this about?"
"I wanted to talk to you about the Salva case, Mr. Schiff," Jamie began, but Adam stopped her.
"First of all, it's Adam. Mr. Schiff sounds too formal. Now, you want to stay on the case?"
"Yes…" Jamie stared at him, surprised at his intuition, "How did you know?"
"Just a hunch. Not everyone prepares briefs for arraignments. The case is being assigned to Jack McCoy. He needs a second chair; I'll talk to him and let you know."
"Thank you, Mr. Schiff… Adam." Jamie stood, and Adam shook her hand.
"Don't worry," He said, "Jack will say yes."
He has to, Adam thought, if I tell him to.
Jamie went back to her desk and began preparing the Grand Jury slip. Her mind started to replay her conversation with Adam as she worked.
Jack McCoy, she thought, now she had heard of him. Who hadn't? His reputation was big enough that nearly everyone knew of him, even if they had never seen him. On one of Jamie's first days in the office, David was showing her around the hallways, pointing out each different department and bureau – Auto Crimes here, Narcotics here, Rackets here, Vice over there – they had seen Jack in the hallway. David had pointed him out to her.
"That's Jack McCoy."
"Oh." Jamie didn't grasp the significance of the name at the time.
"He's Adam's top EADA," David explained, "Adam assigns him all the rough cases."
"Oh." Jamie said again, looking over at the man with more understanding, if not much interest. He was pushing the button on the elevator, talking animatedly to the person with him. Although Jamie hadn't thought much of the encounter at the time, now she went over it again in her mind, trying to reform her mental picture. She had heard something about him recently – what was it? Oh - he was a witness to the state's first execution a few weeks ago and went right back to work – David had mentioned that. The execution had been the big event around the office, and nearly everyone Jamie had spoken to that day had said at least something about it.
Well, it wasn't much of a picture, Jamie thought, but at least she had an idea of what he looked like, and what he might be like. If anything, her curiosity was piqued.
While Jamie was trying to form her mental image of Jack McCoy, Adam was waiting in his office. It was about time he stopped coddling Jack, stopped making sure anything above a "C" felony was assigned to someone else. It had been a few weeks, that had to be enough time to get used to the idea that life goes on.
Or at least, the work goes on. He had three other ADA's all scrambling to cover the reassigned caseload, and he had asked more than enough of them already. It was time to toss Jack back into the ring. It might help him out, get his mind moving again. First step – assign a new second chair. That step would be the hardest, Adam thought, chances are he's going to resent almost anyone I give him, might as well get it over with.
Adam heard the door to his office open and close and he turned to see Jack. Damn – the man looked like he hadn't slept in days. Maybe he hadn't.
"You're taking the Salva case." He told him.
"Salva'll plead out. An answering machine could handle it." Jack said.
"Nothing on the front page of the Post is that easy. You'll need a second chair."
Jack flinched. His first instinct was, as Adam had predicted, to say no. He didn't want anyone – anyone – taking Claire's place.
"I'm doing fine on my own," He said. Adam, expecting this, already had an argument ready.
"You're not getting paid all that money to look up cases in the library."
"If I need somebody," Jack said, "I can borrow Crocker for the afternoon."
"Crocker." One of the ADA's who's already working his butt off to cover the twelve cases I had to reassign to him, Adam thought, "What do you know about Jamie Ross?"
"Not much," Jack replied, searching his mind for the name, "She used to work at Gorton and Steinhart."
"She was married to Neil Gorton. She asked to stay on the case."
Jack now remembered a few more things he had heard about Jamie Ross, although it was hard to remember exactly where he had heard them – events beyond the last few weeks were a little hazy in his memory.
"She's been in the office for less than six months."
"She's had five years as a criminal defense attorney. Eight homicide trials, seven acquittals." Adam sighed, remembering that he had hired Jamie four months earlier hoping a position would become available for her in major felonies, although he certainly didn't expect it to open up the way it had.
"And a kid at day care," Jack said, "I need someone who can put in the late hours."
I know what that means with you, Adam thought, but felt a little guilty about thinking it. The man probably wasn't going to be putting in late hours with anyone anytime soon.
"Watch the answering machine," He answered, "I like her. So will you."
Jack understood from his tone that there was nothing more to say about the situation, and he would have a new second chair, like it or not.
"I have one more question." Jack said.
"Go ahead."
"Did you find out who's been assigned to the Kennedy case?"
Adam sighed. He had made the decision to treat the Kennedy case, as Jack referred to it, the same as any other case of vehicular manslaughter that happened to come through his office. He couldn't be accused of favoritism just because the woman Michael Kennedy happened to slam into when he ran a red light was someone from his office.
"No," Adam said, "You can ask Arlene Wolensky in Auto Crimes. It's her case, I'm sure she assigned it to one of her ADA's."
"One of her ADA's?" Jack asked, and Adam gave him a warning look.
"What do you think she'd do with it? Handle it herself?"
"I would."
"No, you wouldn't," Adam shook his head, "You've got blinders on."
Blinders, Jack thought. It was just like Adam to try to prove there was no such thing as special treatment in his office when this was a case that demanded it.
"Fine," Jack shrugged, "I'll go talk to Arlene."
"You do that." Adam said as Jack left the office.
Jamie was still working on her grand jury slip when the phone rang on her desk.
"Jamie Ross."
"Miss Ross, You can move your things upstairs whenever you're ready." It was Adam's secretary.
"Thank you," Jamie couldn't help smiling.
"You're welcome, Miss Ross." He said, and hung up. Jamie glanced around and saw an empty box in a stack a few feet from her desk. David walked up as she began piling her things into it.
"Good news?" He asked.
"I've been assigned as Jack McCoy's second chair. I get to stay on the Salva case."
"That is good news. Good luck. And don't forget that picture of Katie."
Jamie grabbed the frame and put the photo in her box. When she looked up, David had already disappeared down the hallway. So much for goodbyes, she thought.
It had been a while since Jack had been down to the Auto Crimes bureau – and a long time since he'd talked to Arlene Wolensky. Arlene – a Senior ADA – had been with the office at least as long as Jack, and had been handling major felonies all the way back in the 1970's. Since then she'd moved around to head nearly every department at least once.
She had also once been a good friend of Jack's ex-wife, Elise, back when Elise was still with the DA's office. She and Arlene would have a girl's night out whenever one of them won a case, and Jack could still remember how much Elise enjoyed making him wait up for her instead of the other way around. Sometimes, it seemed, she would do it out of spite – which is probably why he and Elise had been divorced for more than fifteen years.
"Jack," Arlene said when she saw him, "How are you."
"I've been better," Jack answered as he sat across from her desk.
"How is Elise?" Arlene asked.
"She's fine," He answered, although it had been a while since he'd spoken to her. They only had one thing in common now – their daughter – and as long as he sent his share of her tuition bills, Elise didn't see any reason to discuss her.
Arlene nodded and folded her hands on her desk.
"So, Jack, what did you come to see me about?"
"I had a case I wanted to talk to you about – Michael Kennedy?"
"Kennedy, Kennedy… refresh my memory, please." Arlene swiveled around in her chair and began digging through her file cabinet.
"Vehicular homicide, several weeks ago, ran a red light with a BA level of point one four…"
"Here it is," Arlene pulled the file, "All right. It looks like that case was assigned to Paige Kendall, one of my ADA's… and she's waiting for a sit down with his public defender. Looks like a plea, in my opinion. Why?"
"A plea?" Jack asked.
"Yes, it's a standard case," Arlene continued to look over the case file, "I advised her to take vehicular manslaughter, one to three, et cetera, et cetera… she's got four other cases almost exactly like it. I've got twenty times that in my office." Arlene looked up at Jack, "So you didn't answer my question. Why the interest in this case?"
There was no good way to answer that question, Jack thought, still stinging from Arlene's description of the case as "standard." As if there wasn't a human being on the other end of that paperwork.
"The victim in this case is someone from my office," Jack said, although that didn't begin to describe it.
Arlene, who had laid the case file open on her desk, glanced down and quickly shut it. Jack couldn't understand why at the time, but he later realized it was to spare him. The case file contained the ME's report, complete with photos, and although Arlene was a long way from guessing the truth, she understood right away that no one wants to see a friend or a co-worker laid out like that.
"I'm sorry," She said automatically, "I'll tell Paige to give you a call when she knows anything."
Jack nodded, even though that wasn't the answer he was looking for. He knew how prosecutors talk to the families and friends of victims, and Arlene was using those words, that tone of voice. When this Paige Kendall called him, she would use those words too, and Jack suddenly understood just how empty and ridiculous they sounded. But she was just doing her job. He had a job to do, too.
"Thanks, Arlene. I should get back to work."
"Sure, Jack. Nice to see you again." Arlene turned around and slid the file back into her filing cabinet as he left.
Jack made his way back to his office with Arlene's "standard" still echoing in his head. In her defense, she didn't know why he was asking at the time – and when she did, her entire tone changed. The look she gave him – he had come to know it well in the past few weeks. It was the look Monica, his administrative assistant, gave him every morning. The look Adam had been giving him ever since he heard the news. That uncomfortable "I don't know quite what to say" look that only made everything worse.
As he turned the corner, he saw Jamie Ross through the glass wall of the "office" that, not three weeks ago, had belonged to Claire – the empty desk he had been trying so hard not to look at. This woman was unpacking a box like she belonged there - setting a plant, of all things, in the corner of the desk.
At least it wouldn't be empty anymore, he thought, although he wasn't sure if that was better or worse. He watched her for a moment, then knocked on the glass to get her attention.
Monica had directed Jamie over to her new desk and advised her, with a stiff sort of politeness, to make herself at home, which is exactly what Jamie was doing when she heard the knock on the glass and looked up to see Jack McCoy. Something about him was different than the image she had cobbled together from her memory, but he didn't give her time to think about it. He gestured for her to follow him into his office, and she grabbed the case file and walked over to him.
"We're presenting the Salva case to the grand jury this afternoon," He said as he opened his office door to let her in. Okay, Jamie thought, if this can be considered an introduction, I'll just run with it.
"I prepared the slip," She said, handing it to him, "It's my first capital case. I wanted to make sure I dotted all the "i's."
Jack glanced over the slip. Before his meeting with Arlene he'd had a few moments to read the case file, and he saw an error on the form.
"It's fine," He said, "Just amend it to murder two."
"Murder in furtherance of a robbery is murder one."
Jack took his jacket off and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wasn't in the mood to argue, but she was not making this easy.
"The statute reads 'With intent to cause the death of another person.'" He said.
"Salva bashed Rankin's head in and left her for dead. His intent couldn't have been clearer." Jamie was having trouble believing what she was hearing.
"It would be if he had used his gun." Jack replied.
"I didn't realize I was still in the business of arguing the defense's case." Jamie shot back.
"We're in the business of proving things beyond a reasonable doubt," Jack said, "We can prove murder two, depraved indifference without breaking a sweat."
"So give the jury the option with a lesser included charge," Jamie countered, "I don't mind breaking a sweat if at the end of the day we put Salva's lights out."
"An eye for an eye." Jack couldn't help but think how strange it was having someone in front of him arguing for the death penalty, the reverse of the arguments he was used to having over the past year. Don't think like that, he warned himself, not now.
"No." Jamie said, "One worthless life for the six he destroyed. You heard the tape. She showed him pictures of her kids, for God's sake."
"A good emotional argument," Jack was firm, "It doesn't prove the prima faccia case."
Jamie sighed with exasperation at this unexpected response.
"I'm surprised," She said, "I mean, with all due respect, you witnessed Mickey Scott's execution and went right back to work."
Jack shook his head, flinching inwardly at the memory of that day.
"I haven't gone soft, Ms. Ross. I can believe in the death penalty without being sanguine about it."
"Well, don't temper your enthusiasm on my account." Jamie regretted the tone of her voice almost as soon as she had said those words, even though she meant them.
"This is not a capital case," Jack said firmly, and Jamie shook her head at him and left the office, almost slamming the door on her way out.
She sat down at her desk, still fuming over the way the conversation had deteriorated, when Jack's office door opened again. She turned to see him standing in the doorway.
"Amend it to murder two," He repeated, "And the grand jury is at 4:30PM."
"All right," Jamie nodded, "But are you absolutely sure…"
"I'm sure, Ms. Ross." Jack ducked back inside his office and shut the door.
Jack had heard the tape, and he wasn't surprised that his new assistant was so ready to stick a needle in Fernando Salva's arm – the impassioned pleading of a woman trying to save her life was enough to move anyone. And the idea of a mother showing her murderer pictures of her children – no wonder she was affected.
For his part, Jack found himself wondering now what it must feel like to face that – to try to plead and bargain your way out of a desperate situation. Claire, he knew, didn't even have time to plead, or bargain, or even think. What had she seen in that last moment of her life? What had she remembered?
Maureen Rankin had pleaded with God, pleaded with her killer. She thought of her children, her husband. Was it worse to have that time to remember? Or was it worse to have it all disappear in a split second?
It was an academic argument, Jack thought, and there's no point to it. He looked back out the window for a moment, then turned his attention to preparing his presentation for the grand jury.
You have to snap out of this, he reminded himself, you still have a job to do.
"Do grand juries usually return murder two indictments that fast?" Jamie asked Jack as they rode the elevator back to the office. She wasn't surprised, honestly, that it had taken less than a half an hour to make their decision, but she couldn't help but wonder how fast they might have returned an indictment for murder one.
"That tape is convincing," Jack said, walking slightly ahead of Jamie as the doors opened. When he got to his office, he turned around to look at her.
"We should be expecting a call from Abe Mercer," He said, "Looking for a sit-down."
"A plea?" Jamie asked, hoping Jack would say no.
"Not unless it's twenty-five to life," He replied, "I don't see a reason to go any lower than that."
Jamie had to hide her sigh of relief. At least she and Jack appeared to agree on something.
"It's six o'clock," he said, glancing at his watch, "Why don't you call it a night?"
"At six o'clock?" Jamie asked, "I thought you'd just be getting started."
"Tomorrow will be a long day," He shook his head, "Consider it your orientation."
Jamie watched as he shut the door behind him. Exactly what could he mean by that?
Twenty-four hours later Jamie had her answer. The first thing Monica had done that morning was drop a stack of at least fifteen case files on her desk.
"What are these?" She asked. Monica sighed.
"They all have your name on them," She smiled and turned around, and Jack walked up as she left.
"Bring yourself up to speed on those," Jack said, "Then I have a few things I'd like to go over with you."
Jamie nodded and took a file from the top of the stack.
By the end of the day she felt almost as if she'd been run over by a truck. Jack had spent most of his day questioning every suggestion she made, although she suspected he did it just to get a better idea of her thought processes and opinions. Maybe it was his orientation day, but for her it was just the day from hell. Even now, at six o'clock in the evening, there were still stacks of paperwork piled everywhere, and she hadn't made a dent in any of it.
"Coffee?" She looked up to see Jack standing by her desk, holding two cups. He held one out to her.
"Thanks." Jamie said as she took the cup from him.
"I told you today would be a long day," He sat in the chair next to her desk, "Don't say I didn't give you fair warning."
"You did," She acknowledged, "How late were you here last night?"
"Why do you ask?"
Jamie hesitated. The question had flown out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it, and she had only asked it because he looked so tired. She noticed he'd had a cup of coffee in his hands most of the day – this had to have been number three or four – but it wasn't any of her business.
Jack didn't wait for her answer.
"Late," He said, then changed the subject, "I got that call from Mercer today. He's going to call back when he's ready to meet."
"You'd think he'd be raring to go, with his client in jail."
"You would think," Jack agreed, "But the ball is in his court. Salva's not going anywhere, thanks to you."
"I doubt Judge Gance would have given him bail."
"Having a brief prepared couldn't have hurt. Anyway, I'll let you know when he calls."
Jack stood up and left Jamie to work through her files for a while longer.
The coffee wasn't working. It hadn't worked this morning to get rid of the hangover and it wasn't working now. Of course, the fact that it took at least half a bottle of scotch to fall asleep each night probably had something to do with the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him.
Last night he had stayed in the office late, but not because there was work to do –even now, with the Salva case, his workload was still much lighter than it had been – but because going home was just another reminder. One of a thousand little reminders that managed to sneak their way into his world when he wasn't expecting them.
His apartment had never been the warmest of places, but it was comfortable. Claire had once said "It just screams bachelor, Jack," but that was the way he liked it. Now it was just empty. Cold, dark, and empty.
This, Jack realized, was another one of those ridiculous things. It wasn't as if they had lived together. But somehow, as time went on, she had insinuated herself into his place and he into hers, especially in the last few months. Three months ago she had surprised him by arranging some pictures on the walls and some family photos on a bookshelf – a very un-Claire-like thing to do, he had thought at the time, but the small gesture made the place look more like a home.
"Is this what they call a woman's touch?" He asked, and Claire made a face at him.
"Well, don't get used to it." She smiled, elbowing him gently in the ribs.
So with the exception of some photographs on a shelf, nothing had changed, physically. There was just an overpowering, pervasive sense that something was missing. Maybe it was absurd, but he couldn't get that out of his mind, and he avoided going home to that cold, dark apartment.
Bars were better. At least there was activity there, people talking and sometimes laughing, sometimes shouting, the sound of life, fueled by alcohol, circulating around him. By the time the bartenders would ring out last call, the pain in the idea of returning to that apartment was dulled somewhat.
Dulling that pain was the best he could hope for.
Disclaimer: I don't own them (or anything much else, either)
Author's Note: (For people who are observant, you may notice this story was up before, for about five minutes. This time I promise it will stay) This story began as an attempt to dig deeper into the beginnings of the friendship between Jamie and Jack, but then it just ran away with me. I suppose you could call it a "post-post Aftershock" story, because it focuses on events that take place shortly after, in and around the episode "Causa Mortis."
Also – Jack's sections of this story are very angst-y. You've been warned.
Chapter 1: A Thousand Little Ways
Jamie Ross was coming to the realization that the New York County District Attorney's office was a confusing place to work. Nearly four months after being hired, she was still getting lost in the hallways, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people surrounding her. At Gorton and Steinhart she'd been lucky enough to have her own office, and she'd grown accustomed to the privacy and quiet. Here she'd been assigned to a temporary cubicle, surrounded by other ADA's all doing their best to get noticed.
It was already four in the afternoon and Jamie was starting to glance at the clock, looking forward to going home. That morning Katie had decided to throw a tantrum because Mommy was going, and it tore Jamie apart to leave her crying daughter behind. She trusted her live-in babysitter absolutely, but being a working mother still wasn't always easy.
"Jamie. Can you take this arraignment?" David, her supervisor, dropped a file on her desk, jolting Jamie out of her thoughts.
"Sure," Jamie said automatically as she took the case file and paged through it, "Wait. This is a capital charge. Shouldn't this go up to major felonies?"
"It should," David acknowledged, "But they're short up there right now. I think you can handle it."
"I'll get started on it right away." Jamie smiled at David, who nodded back and went on with his pile of case files to the next cubicle.
Jamie paged through the file again. The police report was startling, to say the least – someone had killed a mother of four simply to steal her car – but there was even a tape of this woman pleading with her killer for her life.
Jamie shook her head as she finished reading. She thought as a defense attorney she'd seen just about everything, but this was the last straw. This was a chance, she decided – a chance to finally do some good and put a murderer behind bars (or maybe even six feet under) instead of making excuses for them.
Purely on a personal note, Jamie also realized, a capital case was a good way to get noticed and maybe, just maybe get out of this cubicle in the district attorney's office's version of purgatory.
She would start by making sure this SOB didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of bail. The arraignment was scheduled for first thing in the morning – more than enough time to get a brief together. Jamie grabbed her briefcase and headed for the law library.
Meanwhile, a few floors above, Jack McCoy was trying everything he could not to look out the front window of his office.
For the past few weeks he'd been working with the blinds closed, until someone had stopped by and asked him why. Jack had stammered some excuse about light in the hallway distracting him, but he realized that he would have to open the damn things sooner or later. So today he had left them open, but instead of confronting the view he was working as much as he could with his back to the window.
He knew it was ridiculous. If Claire were here even she would agree. He could picture exactly the way she would roll her eyes at him over it.
And yet he could not let himself look at that empty desk. Ridiculous or not, he couldn't do it.
Better to just keep working, Jack thought, as he buried his nose in a case file. Better to just keep on working and not think about anything but the intricacies of various "C" and "D" level felonies.
Strangely enough, for some reason, those "D" felonies took all of his concentration. They were the sort of things he would normally have expected Claire to take care of on her own, the types of cases he would once have been able to handle in his sleep. Now it was suddenly exhausting just to figure out which line to complete on a form. It was all a burden, an effort.
Jack sighed and took another swig from his third cup of coffee that day. Shape up, he chided himself, you have work to do.
Jamie arrived bright and early for the arraignment the next morning and squeezed her way through the crowded courtroom to wait for her case to be called. She sat next to two other ADA's who seemed more interested in their conversation than the case files they had in their hands.
'There's an open position up in major felonies, did you hear?" One asked the other, and Jamie's ears perked up. David had said they were short, hadn't he?
"Ooh, wouldn't that be an assignment."
"Easy for you to say. You did just get promoted over to Auto Crimes, didn't you?"
"I wouldn't call it a promotion, Olivia. I'd call it a lateral move. Same status, different department."
"Well, you're lucky. You know who's just dying for that open spot, don't you?"
"Let me guess. It wouldn't be Carmichael, would it?"
They both laughed.
"Exactly," Olivia said, "Ever since Ricci got promoted over to Rackets she has been out of her mind over it. But she won't get it."
"No, she won't. And neither will you or I, at least not right now."
"My case is up. I'll talk to you later."
Olivia stood up and bolted for the podium, and the other woman smiled over at Jamie.
"I hate waiting, don't you?"
Jamie nodded in agreement.
"I hope they hurry," The woman continued, "I have a grand jury in two hours. They called me for this at the last possible second. What's your case?" She looked over at Jamie.
"First degree murder." Jamie replied, and the other ADA's eyes widened.
"Ooh," She said, "Now that beats penny-ante drug cases and stolen cars, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so." Jamie said.
"My name is Paige Kendall," The woman said, holding her briefcase on her lap with one hand and extending the other out to Jamie, "I'm up in auto crimes. You know, grand theft auto, driving under the influence, that sort of thing. The biggest felony I ever see is vehicular homicide. You?"
"Jamie Ross," Jamie shook Paige's outstretched hand, "I'm in the general pool right now. Waiting for a permanent assignment."
"Well, they must have some faith in you to hand you that to begin with." Paige said.
"I've been a criminal defense attorney for five years." Jamie said, and Paige nodded again.
"Oh. Welcome to the other side of the aisle, then," Paige smiled, "And that's my case. Nice meeting you."
Jamie returned to reviewing her brief for the few minutes she had until she heard her own case called.
"People vs. Fernando Salva, murder in the first degree, robbery in the first degree."
"What's your plea, Mr. Salva?" Judge Gance asked as she peered at Fernando Salva from the height of her bench.
"Not guilty." He said.
"No bail, Your Honor, the people want Mr. Salva remanded to custody." Jamie spoke up.
"Your Honor," retorted Salva's attorney, a man who looked as if he was old enough to have assisted Clarence Darrow himself, "Mr. Salva has no record, he has lived in the same apartment with his grandmother since the age of ten…"
"And he kills people," Jamie interjected, peeved by his attitude, "This is a capital charge. Mr. Salva killed a total stranger, a mother of four, to steal her car."
"Unlike my young colleague," Salva's attorney shot back, "I believe in litigation before incarceration, as did the founding fathers."
Oh please, Jamie thought, "US v. Salerno, there's no constitutional right to bail."
"But in the State of New York…" He continued, and Jamie cut him off once again.
"The New York appellate division ruled similarly in People ex Shapiro v. The Keeper of City Prisons. I've prepared a brief."
The bailiff took Jamie's brief and handed it to Judge Gance, who looked at it with a fond smile on her face.
"Keeper of City Prisons," She said, "I haven't heard that cite since law school."
"Your Honor," the Defense Attorney sputtered a bit, "My client meets all of the customary standards for bail. I mean, I'd have prepared a brief…"
Judge Gance stopped him with a glare.
"You should have, Mr. Mercer," She said, "Defendant is remanded to custody." She banged her gavel and called for the next case, and Jamie couldn't help but shoot a self-satisfied smirk at Fernando Salva.
This time, she thought to herself, if I have anything to say about it, the system will work the way it's supposed to.
Jamie knew it was a bit forward of her, but after the arraignment she called Adam Schiff's office. She had barely seen the district attorney since he'd hired her, after her third interview four months earlier, but he had always taken the time out to say hello to her and ask how things were going the few times she had seen him. Most of the other ADA's in her position were lucky if he knew their names.
"So, Miss Ross, have a seat," Adam said, gesturing towards the couch in his office and sitting down in the leather easy chair opposite, "What is this about?"
"I wanted to talk to you about the Salva case, Mr. Schiff," Jamie began, but Adam stopped her.
"First of all, it's Adam. Mr. Schiff sounds too formal. Now, you want to stay on the case?"
"Yes…" Jamie stared at him, surprised at his intuition, "How did you know?"
"Just a hunch. Not everyone prepares briefs for arraignments. The case is being assigned to Jack McCoy. He needs a second chair; I'll talk to him and let you know."
"Thank you, Mr. Schiff… Adam." Jamie stood, and Adam shook her hand.
"Don't worry," He said, "Jack will say yes."
He has to, Adam thought, if I tell him to.
Jamie went back to her desk and began preparing the Grand Jury slip. Her mind started to replay her conversation with Adam as she worked.
Jack McCoy, she thought, now she had heard of him. Who hadn't? His reputation was big enough that nearly everyone knew of him, even if they had never seen him. On one of Jamie's first days in the office, David was showing her around the hallways, pointing out each different department and bureau – Auto Crimes here, Narcotics here, Rackets here, Vice over there – they had seen Jack in the hallway. David had pointed him out to her.
"That's Jack McCoy."
"Oh." Jamie didn't grasp the significance of the name at the time.
"He's Adam's top EADA," David explained, "Adam assigns him all the rough cases."
"Oh." Jamie said again, looking over at the man with more understanding, if not much interest. He was pushing the button on the elevator, talking animatedly to the person with him. Although Jamie hadn't thought much of the encounter at the time, now she went over it again in her mind, trying to reform her mental picture. She had heard something about him recently – what was it? Oh - he was a witness to the state's first execution a few weeks ago and went right back to work – David had mentioned that. The execution had been the big event around the office, and nearly everyone Jamie had spoken to that day had said at least something about it.
Well, it wasn't much of a picture, Jamie thought, but at least she had an idea of what he looked like, and what he might be like. If anything, her curiosity was piqued.
While Jamie was trying to form her mental image of Jack McCoy, Adam was waiting in his office. It was about time he stopped coddling Jack, stopped making sure anything above a "C" felony was assigned to someone else. It had been a few weeks, that had to be enough time to get used to the idea that life goes on.
Or at least, the work goes on. He had three other ADA's all scrambling to cover the reassigned caseload, and he had asked more than enough of them already. It was time to toss Jack back into the ring. It might help him out, get his mind moving again. First step – assign a new second chair. That step would be the hardest, Adam thought, chances are he's going to resent almost anyone I give him, might as well get it over with.
Adam heard the door to his office open and close and he turned to see Jack. Damn – the man looked like he hadn't slept in days. Maybe he hadn't.
"You're taking the Salva case." He told him.
"Salva'll plead out. An answering machine could handle it." Jack said.
"Nothing on the front page of the Post is that easy. You'll need a second chair."
Jack flinched. His first instinct was, as Adam had predicted, to say no. He didn't want anyone – anyone – taking Claire's place.
"I'm doing fine on my own," He said. Adam, expecting this, already had an argument ready.
"You're not getting paid all that money to look up cases in the library."
"If I need somebody," Jack said, "I can borrow Crocker for the afternoon."
"Crocker." One of the ADA's who's already working his butt off to cover the twelve cases I had to reassign to him, Adam thought, "What do you know about Jamie Ross?"
"Not much," Jack replied, searching his mind for the name, "She used to work at Gorton and Steinhart."
"She was married to Neil Gorton. She asked to stay on the case."
Jack now remembered a few more things he had heard about Jamie Ross, although it was hard to remember exactly where he had heard them – events beyond the last few weeks were a little hazy in his memory.
"She's been in the office for less than six months."
"She's had five years as a criminal defense attorney. Eight homicide trials, seven acquittals." Adam sighed, remembering that he had hired Jamie four months earlier hoping a position would become available for her in major felonies, although he certainly didn't expect it to open up the way it had.
"And a kid at day care," Jack said, "I need someone who can put in the late hours."
I know what that means with you, Adam thought, but felt a little guilty about thinking it. The man probably wasn't going to be putting in late hours with anyone anytime soon.
"Watch the answering machine," He answered, "I like her. So will you."
Jack understood from his tone that there was nothing more to say about the situation, and he would have a new second chair, like it or not.
"I have one more question." Jack said.
"Go ahead."
"Did you find out who's been assigned to the Kennedy case?"
Adam sighed. He had made the decision to treat the Kennedy case, as Jack referred to it, the same as any other case of vehicular manslaughter that happened to come through his office. He couldn't be accused of favoritism just because the woman Michael Kennedy happened to slam into when he ran a red light was someone from his office.
"No," Adam said, "You can ask Arlene Wolensky in Auto Crimes. It's her case, I'm sure she assigned it to one of her ADA's."
"One of her ADA's?" Jack asked, and Adam gave him a warning look.
"What do you think she'd do with it? Handle it herself?"
"I would."
"No, you wouldn't," Adam shook his head, "You've got blinders on."
Blinders, Jack thought. It was just like Adam to try to prove there was no such thing as special treatment in his office when this was a case that demanded it.
"Fine," Jack shrugged, "I'll go talk to Arlene."
"You do that." Adam said as Jack left the office.
Jamie was still working on her grand jury slip when the phone rang on her desk.
"Jamie Ross."
"Miss Ross, You can move your things upstairs whenever you're ready." It was Adam's secretary.
"Thank you," Jamie couldn't help smiling.
"You're welcome, Miss Ross." He said, and hung up. Jamie glanced around and saw an empty box in a stack a few feet from her desk. David walked up as she began piling her things into it.
"Good news?" He asked.
"I've been assigned as Jack McCoy's second chair. I get to stay on the Salva case."
"That is good news. Good luck. And don't forget that picture of Katie."
Jamie grabbed the frame and put the photo in her box. When she looked up, David had already disappeared down the hallway. So much for goodbyes, she thought.
It had been a while since Jack had been down to the Auto Crimes bureau – and a long time since he'd talked to Arlene Wolensky. Arlene – a Senior ADA – had been with the office at least as long as Jack, and had been handling major felonies all the way back in the 1970's. Since then she'd moved around to head nearly every department at least once.
She had also once been a good friend of Jack's ex-wife, Elise, back when Elise was still with the DA's office. She and Arlene would have a girl's night out whenever one of them won a case, and Jack could still remember how much Elise enjoyed making him wait up for her instead of the other way around. Sometimes, it seemed, she would do it out of spite – which is probably why he and Elise had been divorced for more than fifteen years.
"Jack," Arlene said when she saw him, "How are you."
"I've been better," Jack answered as he sat across from her desk.
"How is Elise?" Arlene asked.
"She's fine," He answered, although it had been a while since he'd spoken to her. They only had one thing in common now – their daughter – and as long as he sent his share of her tuition bills, Elise didn't see any reason to discuss her.
Arlene nodded and folded her hands on her desk.
"So, Jack, what did you come to see me about?"
"I had a case I wanted to talk to you about – Michael Kennedy?"
"Kennedy, Kennedy… refresh my memory, please." Arlene swiveled around in her chair and began digging through her file cabinet.
"Vehicular homicide, several weeks ago, ran a red light with a BA level of point one four…"
"Here it is," Arlene pulled the file, "All right. It looks like that case was assigned to Paige Kendall, one of my ADA's… and she's waiting for a sit down with his public defender. Looks like a plea, in my opinion. Why?"
"A plea?" Jack asked.
"Yes, it's a standard case," Arlene continued to look over the case file, "I advised her to take vehicular manslaughter, one to three, et cetera, et cetera… she's got four other cases almost exactly like it. I've got twenty times that in my office." Arlene looked up at Jack, "So you didn't answer my question. Why the interest in this case?"
There was no good way to answer that question, Jack thought, still stinging from Arlene's description of the case as "standard." As if there wasn't a human being on the other end of that paperwork.
"The victim in this case is someone from my office," Jack said, although that didn't begin to describe it.
Arlene, who had laid the case file open on her desk, glanced down and quickly shut it. Jack couldn't understand why at the time, but he later realized it was to spare him. The case file contained the ME's report, complete with photos, and although Arlene was a long way from guessing the truth, she understood right away that no one wants to see a friend or a co-worker laid out like that.
"I'm sorry," She said automatically, "I'll tell Paige to give you a call when she knows anything."
Jack nodded, even though that wasn't the answer he was looking for. He knew how prosecutors talk to the families and friends of victims, and Arlene was using those words, that tone of voice. When this Paige Kendall called him, she would use those words too, and Jack suddenly understood just how empty and ridiculous they sounded. But she was just doing her job. He had a job to do, too.
"Thanks, Arlene. I should get back to work."
"Sure, Jack. Nice to see you again." Arlene turned around and slid the file back into her filing cabinet as he left.
Jack made his way back to his office with Arlene's "standard" still echoing in his head. In her defense, she didn't know why he was asking at the time – and when she did, her entire tone changed. The look she gave him – he had come to know it well in the past few weeks. It was the look Monica, his administrative assistant, gave him every morning. The look Adam had been giving him ever since he heard the news. That uncomfortable "I don't know quite what to say" look that only made everything worse.
As he turned the corner, he saw Jamie Ross through the glass wall of the "office" that, not three weeks ago, had belonged to Claire – the empty desk he had been trying so hard not to look at. This woman was unpacking a box like she belonged there - setting a plant, of all things, in the corner of the desk.
At least it wouldn't be empty anymore, he thought, although he wasn't sure if that was better or worse. He watched her for a moment, then knocked on the glass to get her attention.
Monica had directed Jamie over to her new desk and advised her, with a stiff sort of politeness, to make herself at home, which is exactly what Jamie was doing when she heard the knock on the glass and looked up to see Jack McCoy. Something about him was different than the image she had cobbled together from her memory, but he didn't give her time to think about it. He gestured for her to follow him into his office, and she grabbed the case file and walked over to him.
"We're presenting the Salva case to the grand jury this afternoon," He said as he opened his office door to let her in. Okay, Jamie thought, if this can be considered an introduction, I'll just run with it.
"I prepared the slip," She said, handing it to him, "It's my first capital case. I wanted to make sure I dotted all the "i's."
Jack glanced over the slip. Before his meeting with Arlene he'd had a few moments to read the case file, and he saw an error on the form.
"It's fine," He said, "Just amend it to murder two."
"Murder in furtherance of a robbery is murder one."
Jack took his jacket off and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wasn't in the mood to argue, but she was not making this easy.
"The statute reads 'With intent to cause the death of another person.'" He said.
"Salva bashed Rankin's head in and left her for dead. His intent couldn't have been clearer." Jamie was having trouble believing what she was hearing.
"It would be if he had used his gun." Jack replied.
"I didn't realize I was still in the business of arguing the defense's case." Jamie shot back.
"We're in the business of proving things beyond a reasonable doubt," Jack said, "We can prove murder two, depraved indifference without breaking a sweat."
"So give the jury the option with a lesser included charge," Jamie countered, "I don't mind breaking a sweat if at the end of the day we put Salva's lights out."
"An eye for an eye." Jack couldn't help but think how strange it was having someone in front of him arguing for the death penalty, the reverse of the arguments he was used to having over the past year. Don't think like that, he warned himself, not now.
"No." Jamie said, "One worthless life for the six he destroyed. You heard the tape. She showed him pictures of her kids, for God's sake."
"A good emotional argument," Jack was firm, "It doesn't prove the prima faccia case."
Jamie sighed with exasperation at this unexpected response.
"I'm surprised," She said, "I mean, with all due respect, you witnessed Mickey Scott's execution and went right back to work."
Jack shook his head, flinching inwardly at the memory of that day.
"I haven't gone soft, Ms. Ross. I can believe in the death penalty without being sanguine about it."
"Well, don't temper your enthusiasm on my account." Jamie regretted the tone of her voice almost as soon as she had said those words, even though she meant them.
"This is not a capital case," Jack said firmly, and Jamie shook her head at him and left the office, almost slamming the door on her way out.
She sat down at her desk, still fuming over the way the conversation had deteriorated, when Jack's office door opened again. She turned to see him standing in the doorway.
"Amend it to murder two," He repeated, "And the grand jury is at 4:30PM."
"All right," Jamie nodded, "But are you absolutely sure…"
"I'm sure, Ms. Ross." Jack ducked back inside his office and shut the door.
Jack had heard the tape, and he wasn't surprised that his new assistant was so ready to stick a needle in Fernando Salva's arm – the impassioned pleading of a woman trying to save her life was enough to move anyone. And the idea of a mother showing her murderer pictures of her children – no wonder she was affected.
For his part, Jack found himself wondering now what it must feel like to face that – to try to plead and bargain your way out of a desperate situation. Claire, he knew, didn't even have time to plead, or bargain, or even think. What had she seen in that last moment of her life? What had she remembered?
Maureen Rankin had pleaded with God, pleaded with her killer. She thought of her children, her husband. Was it worse to have that time to remember? Or was it worse to have it all disappear in a split second?
It was an academic argument, Jack thought, and there's no point to it. He looked back out the window for a moment, then turned his attention to preparing his presentation for the grand jury.
You have to snap out of this, he reminded himself, you still have a job to do.
"Do grand juries usually return murder two indictments that fast?" Jamie asked Jack as they rode the elevator back to the office. She wasn't surprised, honestly, that it had taken less than a half an hour to make their decision, but she couldn't help but wonder how fast they might have returned an indictment for murder one.
"That tape is convincing," Jack said, walking slightly ahead of Jamie as the doors opened. When he got to his office, he turned around to look at her.
"We should be expecting a call from Abe Mercer," He said, "Looking for a sit-down."
"A plea?" Jamie asked, hoping Jack would say no.
"Not unless it's twenty-five to life," He replied, "I don't see a reason to go any lower than that."
Jamie had to hide her sigh of relief. At least she and Jack appeared to agree on something.
"It's six o'clock," he said, glancing at his watch, "Why don't you call it a night?"
"At six o'clock?" Jamie asked, "I thought you'd just be getting started."
"Tomorrow will be a long day," He shook his head, "Consider it your orientation."
Jamie watched as he shut the door behind him. Exactly what could he mean by that?
Twenty-four hours later Jamie had her answer. The first thing Monica had done that morning was drop a stack of at least fifteen case files on her desk.
"What are these?" She asked. Monica sighed.
"They all have your name on them," She smiled and turned around, and Jack walked up as she left.
"Bring yourself up to speed on those," Jack said, "Then I have a few things I'd like to go over with you."
Jamie nodded and took a file from the top of the stack.
By the end of the day she felt almost as if she'd been run over by a truck. Jack had spent most of his day questioning every suggestion she made, although she suspected he did it just to get a better idea of her thought processes and opinions. Maybe it was his orientation day, but for her it was just the day from hell. Even now, at six o'clock in the evening, there were still stacks of paperwork piled everywhere, and she hadn't made a dent in any of it.
"Coffee?" She looked up to see Jack standing by her desk, holding two cups. He held one out to her.
"Thanks." Jamie said as she took the cup from him.
"I told you today would be a long day," He sat in the chair next to her desk, "Don't say I didn't give you fair warning."
"You did," She acknowledged, "How late were you here last night?"
"Why do you ask?"
Jamie hesitated. The question had flown out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it, and she had only asked it because he looked so tired. She noticed he'd had a cup of coffee in his hands most of the day – this had to have been number three or four – but it wasn't any of her business.
Jack didn't wait for her answer.
"Late," He said, then changed the subject, "I got that call from Mercer today. He's going to call back when he's ready to meet."
"You'd think he'd be raring to go, with his client in jail."
"You would think," Jack agreed, "But the ball is in his court. Salva's not going anywhere, thanks to you."
"I doubt Judge Gance would have given him bail."
"Having a brief prepared couldn't have hurt. Anyway, I'll let you know when he calls."
Jack stood up and left Jamie to work through her files for a while longer.
The coffee wasn't working. It hadn't worked this morning to get rid of the hangover and it wasn't working now. Of course, the fact that it took at least half a bottle of scotch to fall asleep each night probably had something to do with the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him.
Last night he had stayed in the office late, but not because there was work to do –even now, with the Salva case, his workload was still much lighter than it had been – but because going home was just another reminder. One of a thousand little reminders that managed to sneak their way into his world when he wasn't expecting them.
His apartment had never been the warmest of places, but it was comfortable. Claire had once said "It just screams bachelor, Jack," but that was the way he liked it. Now it was just empty. Cold, dark, and empty.
This, Jack realized, was another one of those ridiculous things. It wasn't as if they had lived together. But somehow, as time went on, she had insinuated herself into his place and he into hers, especially in the last few months. Three months ago she had surprised him by arranging some pictures on the walls and some family photos on a bookshelf – a very un-Claire-like thing to do, he had thought at the time, but the small gesture made the place look more like a home.
"Is this what they call a woman's touch?" He asked, and Claire made a face at him.
"Well, don't get used to it." She smiled, elbowing him gently in the ribs.
So with the exception of some photographs on a shelf, nothing had changed, physically. There was just an overpowering, pervasive sense that something was missing. Maybe it was absurd, but he couldn't get that out of his mind, and he avoided going home to that cold, dark apartment.
Bars were better. At least there was activity there, people talking and sometimes laughing, sometimes shouting, the sound of life, fueled by alcohol, circulating around him. By the time the bartenders would ring out last call, the pain in the idea of returning to that apartment was dulled somewhat.
Dulling that pain was the best he could hope for.