Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own "Law and Order". I don't. (But if I did, Claire would have been written off the show differently. I would NOT have ripped Jack's heart out by killing her off!)
A/N: I've wanted to write Jack/Claire for a while, but no ideas ever came to me. Sadness. LOL But obviously, I finally did get an idea, and here it is! Some of you already know this, but I enjoy watching "L+O" reruns on TNT. This past week, they showed "Coma", which features my second favorite couple (my OTP is Mike/Connie )—Jack and Claire! I'm a pretty big Claire fan. I just think she is so awesome, and I love the dynamic she and Jack had. Talk about balance—talk about the yin to Jack's yang! Am I right? LOL Anyway, here is a one-shot of sorts—my first J/Cl one! I hope you like it!
For all J/Cl fans out there, Sam Waterston, and Jill Hennessy.
Coping
"Hi," the Homicide ADA greeted the bartender, as she seated herself at the counter of a local bar.
She set her briefcase down on the floor next to her and placed her purse in her lap.
"I'll have a vodka and cranberry, please—heavy on the vodka, lighter on the cranberry. Thanks," she told the bartender.
She sighed heavily.
The bartender left and then promptly returned with her drink, and she took her wallet out of her purse.
"Thanks," said Claire Kincaid, placing a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."
She sipped her drink slowly, welcoming its sharp taste and the burning sensation it caused when she swallowed it.
Damn, this crap hit the spot…
Huzzah for drinking your sorrows.
Bottoms up.
Cheers.
What was it the French said? À votre santé? Yes, that was it. À votre santé!
"I had a feeling you'd be here," said a familiar male voice—a familiar male voice that sometimes haunted her dreams, along with the person to whom it belonged.
Claire turned around.
"So—relentless prosecutor and psychic? Any other hidden talents I'm not aware of yet?" she bantered half-heartedly towards her boss and partner, EADA Jack McCoy.
Jack seated himself next to her.
"Are you angry with me?" he asked her. "After all, you did say you were against having the bullet removed. You said you didn't like Mrs. Dobson's odds, I moved to have the surgery done, and then you came and told me yourself that she died on the operating table and that the bullet wasn't even a match to Mr. Dobson's gun…"
"At first? Yes, I was mad at you. But I spent a few nights not sleeping and staring at the ceiling, mauling the whole the case over to my mind, and I know now that you aren't to blame at all. I hate it that it had to be done, but she never would've recovered anyway. She was a vegetable. So it was a lose-lose situation…You were right. The person responsible for putting that bullet in her brain in the first place is responsible for her death—not you…" she took another sip of her drink and said, "And thanks to some really good digging by Briscoe and Logan, we now know who that sorry waste of space is…That smug son-of-a-bitch had his junkie friend shoot his wife—the mother of his children—in the head, causing irreversible damage to her brain, leaving the children he claims to care so much about to grow up without their mother…He slapped her around, and he murdered her all because she wouldn't 'stay in her place'—in the home. Just because she finally came to see him for the rat bastard he is, and she wanted out…He completely destroyed her, and he completely covered his tracks. Plus, fate decided it wanted to use us as chewtoys because mister junkie-turned-comedian-turned-hit man just had to die of hepatitis…So the son-of-a-bitch just gets off completely scot-free—he just gets away with it…"
She sighed.
"They really do just get the better of us sometimes, Claire. That's just the way it works sometimes," said Jack.
He then got the bartender's attention and ordered a scotch on the rocks.
Claire waited until the bartender was out of earshot and then said, "I wasn't born yesterday, Jack. I'm aware of that. The justice system is fallible—they told us that in law school. However, they didn't tell us we have to be desensitized to it. I have emotions, Jack—I'm going to react to things."
"I know," Jack said apologetically. "Actually, I like that about you."
Surprised, Claire looked at him for a moment.
"Thanks," she said.
"It's true," said Jack.
Claire turned her focus to her drink, hoping she wasn't blushing.
Jack paid for his drink, also telling the bartender to keep the change.
"God, I swear, so many men turn marriage into a complete joke," Claire then said.
"Present company included?" asked Jack.
Claire looked at him shrewdly.
"That depends," she said. "Would you do it again? Are you sorry you did it in the first place?"
"Absolutely not to the first, yes to the second," Jack replied. "I'll be the first to admit it—I was a complete prick."
Claire sighed.
"Well at least you're sorry," she said. "It seems like none of them ever are…"
"We're not all alike, you know," Jack then said.
Claire swallowed a sip of her drink and then looked at him.
"I know that," she said.
They looked at each other for a moment and then mentally shook themselves, returning their attention to their drinks.
They drank in silence for a little bit.
Claire then set down her empty glass and sighed.
"Claire," Jack said.
Claire looked at him.
"Yeah?"
"If it makes you feel better, I'm disgusted as hell, too," said Jack. "I actually had a drink and a talk with Adam before I came here."
"You did?"
"Yeah. This case upsets me, too. I think it's disgusting, unfair, and maddening as hell that that sick son-of-a-bitch is getting away with everything he did. It infuriates me to no end, actually…"
"God damn," Claire said, sighing heavily.
"You'll get through it, Claire. You will. We both will," Jack said.
Claire looked at him.
Seeing the sincerity and compassion in his expression, she knew he was right.
She rewarded him with the smile that made his heart pound like crazy.
"Thank you, Jack," she said.
"Not at all, Claire," Jack said softly.