A Bridge under Troubled Waters
-by J.P. D'Osty-Fernandez
Dedicated to all military personnel who have been afflicted with Agent Orange, PTSD and Gulf War Syndrome, and, as ever, to Diane Neal, the wonderful young actress who brings Casey Novak to life.
Standard: Disclaimer: The Law&Order characters belong to Dick Wolf.
The darkened skies above the freeway looked like they were about to shed a few drops of rain at any moment. In her car below, Casey felt like shedding a few tears, as she cruised away from the city.
Casey was going a few miles below the speed limit. She could make out a Japanese motorcycle on the shoulder of the road ahead, the rider, in jeans and a black leather jacket, still wearing his helmet with a full face shield.
Casey slowed down as she approached the rider and the silent motorcycle, and then pulled onto the shoulder behind them. She remembered driving with her father, and how, he would always stop by a downed bike, and see if they needed help. "Many of these guys" he explained, "are also Vets. Some of them ride bikes to get away from it all. Others join motorcycle clubs because that's about the only place they won't get hassled for serving in Vietnam."
The rider had noticed Casey's car, and now turned to face her as she shifted into neutral and rolled down her window. The face shield was still down on his helmet. "Poor guy!" Casey thought, "He probably doesn't want to get any wetter than he has to if it starts to rain.
Casey stuck her head out of the window.
"Can I call a garage for you?" she offered.
The rider took off his helmet. Once she saw his face, Casey glared at him.
"I'm happy I kept my helmet on until you were stopped!" declared EADA Jack McCoy. "I don't exactly want to end up as your hood ornament."
"You wanna get soaked?" asked Casey, as she prepared to shift into drive and get back on the road. "It looks like it's gonna pour at any moment. If it was a stray cat, I would have stopped and picked it up. But, you—"
"I appreciate your generosity and your forgiveness, Casey!" interrupted McCoy. "But I can't leave my bike here."
"So, you're just going to let it get showered? Geez, Jack, I may not be a master mechanic, but something tells me that engines out the open, like the one on your bike, don't go well with rain."
"They don't. But, the engine is fine. It's just that, for some reason my rear wheel is acting funny on me. I figure I can limp her into the next town, and they'll have a garage."
Casey looked up at the sky.
"The next exit is about twenty—twenty-five miles away. These skies, I don't think you'll make it there in time."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"There's a bridge over the highway about a mile or so away. If you can limp your bike that far, you can stay dry until the storm passes."
"Sounds good! Thanks for telling me, I didn't know that!"
"Then go ahead and mount up. I'll follow you until the bridge."
McCoy did not put his helmet back on.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of you driving a car behind me."
"You're right to be concerned, McCoy!" affirmed Casey, "But this is a rental, and I didn't take out insurance. If I hit you, I have to pay for the bodywork out-of-pocket. Besides, Branch would have my hide if I just left you here, and you caught pneumonia. He's not too happy with me these days."
"Fair enough."
With that, McCoy slipped on his helmet, remounted, and started his bike. After gunning the engine a couple of times, he slowly pulled back on the road. Casey followed him.
As she tailed McCoy, Casey thought malicious things about the EADA. Although she had a respect for his abilities as a lawyer, especially for his knack for pulling rabbits out of a hat at the last moment, Casey had had a strong dislike for him even before she met him. McCoy was a known ladies man and a charmer, who had a habit of seducing his female assistants. It was no surprise, Casey thought, that the jerk's wife had left him.
What made it worse was that McCoy still touted the leftist ideals of his formative years, the late sixties. But, as far as women were concerned, his attitudes had more in common with those of cavemen than with those of the "enlightened" sixties.
The dislike seemed to be mutual. Casey had wanted straight Homicide before Branch transferred her to Sex Crimes from White Collar. Sure, Branch said he had been "watching her for this job" even when she was in White Collar. But Casey had a nagging feeling that McCoy had had something to do with her being sent to Sex Crimes instead of Homicide.
And then, there was Serena Southerlyn. Casey was a good friend of Serena's. She had always admired the blonde's passion. Then, Branch fired her. Serena had called Casey that night, devastated. Casey told her to come over, and had held Serena as she cried and cried. Besides the abrupt termination itself, one thing that really pierced Serena's heart was the fact that McCoy had been nowhere to be found when Branch gave her her pink slip. Serena had mistakenly believed that McCoy would at least have been there, and have had the decency to tell her to her face that he supported Branch's decision.
"Just let it out, Serena! You're doing good! Just let it out!" Casey told her sobbing friend as she held her, Serena's head upon her shoulder.
Casey suggested that Serena stay at her place, and even gave up her bed for her, taking the couch that night. The next morning, over breakfast, she told Serena she had a law school classmate who was in the Civil Rights Division of Justice, and who had just told her the previous week he had an opening. Serena was very thankful, and jumped on the opportunity.
Then, Casey had gone to work, but not before she stopped at the local coffee place and obtained a large black coffee. Just by chance, she happened to stop by the lounge at McCoy's floor, looking for the sugar and cream she had "forgotten" at the coffee shop. And just by chance, she happened to be there at precisely the time McCoy habitually strolled in.
Casey took her sweet time at the counter, knowing full well she was obstructing McCoy from getting his cup. When he finally said "Excuse me, Casey," she turned around, and "accidentally" spilled her entire cup on McCoy, who proceeded to immediately pronounce a few choice, high-decibel profanities.
"Whoops! My bad, Jack!" Casey responded. "Friends should really look out for each other and make sure they don't get burned, wouldn't you say?"
McCoy, still smarting from the sudden, high-temperature, epidermal infusion of caffeine and his ruined trousers, looked directly into Casey's eyes. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
Maybe that was why he had come to visit her in the hospital after Milan Zegrin had attacked her. Or maybe, it was genuine sympathy. Casey had been touched by McCoy's kind gesture. But Jack McCoy was still in no danger of becoming Casey Novak's favourite person anytime soon. For one thing, he had been uncharacteristically and eerily silent about her recent defeat at the hands of the Defense Department. Casey had a feeling that McCoy was coiled up like a viper, just waiting for the perfect moment to spring on her and rub her defeat in her face with an "I told you so."
McCoy had pulled onto the shoulder under the bridge, and had hit the kill switch on his bike. He then dismounted, took off his helmet and turned to face Casey's car, which had pulled in under the bridge behind him as he was dismounting.
"C'mon! Get in!" ordered Casey through her rolled-down window.
"I wonder if this is the time I should be looking a gift horse in the mouth…" mused McCoy in response.
"And, you can act like the other end of a horse and get soaked. Or, you can show you have at least half a brain cell and get in." responded Casey.
"When you put it so politely, how can I refuse?" retorted McCoy, as he approached the passenger side of Casey's car.
"I have to say this is very kind of you Casey." he declared as he closed the door. It had started to rain. A few drops at first, then a deluge.
"My Dad used to do that all the time."
"He was a biker too?"
"Yeah, it was his way of getting away from it all. He gave it up when my oldest brother was born. But, when I was a kid and he was driving us someplace, he would always stop for a downed motorcyclist."
McCoy lifted his eyebrows in respect.
"Sounds like he was quite a man…and sounds like you are a chip off the old block."
Casey looked at him.
"I suppose that is a compliment…thanks!"
The pair sat there silently for a few moments, watching the sheets of rain.
"You know…" began McCoy, breaking the silence, "There are times I feel I was on the wrong side back then…"
"Back when?"
"In the sixties. We used to heap abuse at the soldiers. We were so enraged by what the government was doing in Vietnam, we took it out on the most convenient embodiment of government policy, people like your Dad. Now, with everything that's going on, I have the feeling that all we did was attack people who were victims just like those poor Vietnamese civilians—"
"Let's get one thing straight!" interrupted an angry Casey. "My Dad was no 'victim!' He volunteered to serve his country, and he had no regrets about it. The only thing he felt bad about was seeing so many of his friends getting killed. And many of these 'poor civilians,' as you call them, would suddenly pull RPG's out of their huts and shoot at him. They shot him down three times."
"Yes, but what choice did they have? We were invading their country—"
"What choice did they have? They could have just ignored our guys, and let them patrol. Eventually the politicians in Washington would have gotten tired of keeping half a million men tied up and Vietnam for no reason, and brought them all home. THEN the Vietcong could have overthrown the South Vietnamese government and worked their magic."
"It doesn't work that way, Casey." gently rebutted McCoy "Once the military sets up a base in a foreign country, it takes up a life of its own. It becomes another federal program, a de facto, unspoken entitlement. Look at NATO. The military knows very well that the entire reason for NATO evaporated when the Soviet Union fell. But NATO still endures. Why? Because officers need a 'field command' punch on their ticket if they have any hopes of making General before their career is over."
Casey considered this for moment, her eyes never leaving McCoy's.
"Well, that's one thing we can agree on. My father HATED officers. About the only time I heard him swear was when he talked about officers. The most polite thing he called them was 'ticket-punchers.'
"But Jack, how did you know my Dad was in Vietnam?"
There was more than a hint of suspicion in Casey's voice and eyes.
"Let's just say I took an interest in your last case…"
"Why, because of your days as a war protestor? Or because you relished the idea of me falling flat on my face?"
McCoy sighed.
"Casey, I have no interest in seeing you 'fall flat on your face.' I don't know where you got the idea that I ever did…"
"Well, rumour has it that you were the one who persuaded Arthur to shunt me sideways to Sex Crimes instead of Homicide. Seems to me, you thought I would upstage you."
"You need to get a better source of gossip, Casey. I think—and thought—that you would make a fine Homicide prosecutor. Hell, you handled a couple of murder cases in your tenure in Sex Crimes. And, contrary to popular belief, I have no objections to a subordinate with fire in the belly and the savvy to make it work—"
"Oh, really?"
"YEAH! 'Really!' Remember Abby Carmichael?"
"Yeah, she's a good friend of mine."
"No kidding! You two are exactly alike."
Casey lifted her eyebrow.
"Wow! I should call the Guinness Book of World Records! Jack McCoy paying ME TWO compliments within one hour? Now THAT's something you don't see every day!"
McCoy was unfazed by Casey's display.
"It's true! And if I could work with Abby, there is no reason I couldn't work with you, Casey. I would be very pleased to work with you.
"But there was just something about you, a certain dedication, a certain determination that told Branch that you were the right person to take over after Alex Cabot was murdered. No, believe me, Casey, Sex Crimes' gain was unquestionably Homicide's loss. But, given the work you have done over there, I would say that things could not have worked out better."
Casey contracted her eye muscles just as she did when she was assessing Cragen's promise that "what this detective did was necessary" that day in the batting cages.
"You seem to have a point…" she grudgingly conceded. Casey knew very well that McCoy was right. In the nearly two years she had been working Sex Crimes, she had gone from being extremely reluctant and desperately searching for an out, to a determination to stand by her position in the face of physical adversity and even of termination. But, she was not about to let McCoy see that.
"It's true, Casey. Seeing your work…especially with the Quinium case…it tells me that there will be someone there to pick up the torch when I retire."
Casey's eyes brightened, albeit cautiously.
"Well…thanks, McCoy…I get the feeling you are actually being sincere…why were you so interested in my case?"
"Because what you did was something I would do."
Casey could not suppress a doubtful, sardonic grin.
"You would knowingly take on a case that would never get beyond the Grand Jury stage? I thought you only took cases you knew you could win."
"I end up winning most of my cases because I happen to be very good at what I do." replied McCoy. "But, I don't win them all. Seven years ago, I tried to get a gun manufacturer convicted of murder because he knowingly produced a gun that could easily be converted to fire like a machine gun. The jury agreed with me, but the Judge set aside the verdict."
"I remember that." commented Casey. "I actually felt bad for you."
Now it was McCoy's turn to give an astonished, playful smile.
"The great Casey Novak feels bad for me? Maybe I'm the one who should be calling the Guinness Book."
Casey's eyes narrowed.
"But anyway," continued McCoy before Casey could add in a snide remark, "That is not the point. You saw that there was a great injustice being done, and you went right for the heard of the hydra, instead of just hacking away at the limbs. The subpoena to the Secretary of Defense personally, that REALLY impressed me, Casey."
Casey looked down, sadness coming over her face ever so slightly.
"Thanks…Jack…for all the good that it did…"
McCoy noticed the changed in Casey's demeanour.
"Casey, Arthur told me how you stood up to him after that. He said that the threat of a firing had no effect on your determination."
Casey was still looking downwards.
"His exact words" McCoy continued "were 'she stopped me dead in my tracks, just like Stonewall at First Manassas.' Coming from Arthur, THAT is something you don't hear every day."
"They still got to my witness…" Casey commented after a long silence. "I KNEW that this was never going to trial. THEY knew that too…But, they still went after my witness…"
Casey's eyes began to mist up.
"I failed them, Jack…I failed them…I had this one chance, and I blew it…"
A new and concentrated attention caused McCoy's brow to furrow now. He knew that Casey was not talking about her legal competence here.
"I wouldn't say that you blew it, Casey…You tried…that has to count for something…"
Casey brushed the tears away.
"My father…I couldn't help my father, Jack. Agent Blue, that's what gave him the bladder cancer that killed him. I thought I could do something about it if I got them, the DoD and the officers, for what they did to those two MP's and their families, but I couldn't help them anymore than I could help my father."
McCoy reached over and put his left hand on Casey's right shoulder. They were looking into each other's eyes now.
"I know, Casey…I know how that feels."
McCoy gave Casey a gentle squeeze. Casey gave McCoy a kind grin as she wiped away another tear.
"Do you remember Claire Kincaid?"
"I never met her, but I heard many good things about her."
"We were lovers."
Casey said nothing. McCoy continued.
"One night, I went drinking. It had been a really rough day…Claire was supposed to pick me up, but I had long since stumbled away by the time she got to the bar. That was the night she was killed by a drunk driver…
"A year later, there was this drunk driver who killed three people…That brought back what happened to Claire…I saw red, and I tried to get this man convicted of Murder One…Jaimie—Judge Ross, now—saw what was happening to me, and she tried to confront me, but I wouldn't listen. The Judge was Gary Feldman, who was running against Adam Schiff in the elections. He threw me a lot of questionable freebies so he could get a conviction of a drunk driver for his campaign, he even told me as much at the outset. At first, I didn't question the blatant ethical violations that were implied. I ignored Feldman's misconduct and played along because his bias worked in my favour…"
"I remember that case!" interrupted Casey, fully attentive and focused on McCoy now "But, you pulled back at the last minute, and did the right thing, Jack!"
"I should not have done the wrong thing to begin with! I put the whole DA's office at risk just because of my blind anger. I had no right to do that, Casey, and it is only a miracle that things turned out the way they did, and that Adam won despite me.
"You, on the other hand, did everything by the book. Yeah, it was personal for you too, but at no time did you compromise yourself or the DA's office by going along with questionable conduct..."
"Arthur has different ideas about that…" interjected Casey.
"Arthur, like Adam Schiff and Nora Lewin before him, has political concerns to worry about. That is not the issue. He got over it pretty quickly once he saw you weren't going to give in, and especially after you agreed to drop the subpoena to the Secretary…
"And even then, there was nothing legally or ethically questionable about the way you proceeded. Politically, yes it was insane. But legally, it was absolutely the right thing to do. There is no question about that."
McCoy looked down for a moment.
"And, Casey, I think that is the big difference between us…not only between you and me, but between your father and me. You have the courage to do the right thing."
Casey just looked at McCoy. She was stunned by his words.
"Jack…" she began, "I don't know what to say…"
Casey reached over and put her right hand on McCoy's left.
"Jack…" she began again "I don't think we're all that different…I don't know what I would have done if I had lost a significant other to a drunk driver…and do you remember Andy Abbott last year? I did a couple of things that weren't exactly on the square either…"
"Yeah, but after Milan Zegrin attacked you, you still went after the man who raped his sister just the same, just as determined as before…"
Casey winced when McCoy mentioned the name of the man who had so brutally assaulted her. McCoy saw this.
"I'm sorry Casey, I…"
"No, that's quite alright, Jack!" interrupted Casey "I'm…working on that with Liz Olivet. It is hell, but it's getting so I can hear his name and still control my…feelings at the same time. By the way, I appreciate that you came by the hospital to see me. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that. I had no reason to expect you to do that, especially after the coffee…but you did just the same. I guess I was wrong about you."
McCoy looked down.
"It was the least I could do…" he said after a while. "I think about Serena too, sometimes. You were right. I should have been there for her. I should have been a better friend to her…like you were and are."
Casey gave McCoy's hand a squeeze.
"Actually, Jack, she is doing quite well in the Civil Rights Division. I talked to her last weekend. She told me that Branch firing her was actually a blessing in disguise. She's working on housing discrimination cases these days, and she's loving it. She said "I think I finally found my place!' "
"That's nice to hear…" But there was a sadness in McCoy's voice.
"Of course," offered Casey "I am sure she wouldn't mind a letter, or a call from you. Believe it or not, she enjoyed working with you."
"I'd like to do that, Casey. But, even if I had any idea where to start after the way things ended, I don't have her contact info…"
A little smile cracked on Casey's face now, and her eyes narrowed reassuringly.
"Oh, you can leave that to me. I can give her a call and tell her you'd like to talk to her. I have a feeling she wouldn't mind having a chat with you at all."
McCoy squeezed Casey's hand back.
"Thanks, Casey!"
"Anytime, Jack!"
It had stopped raining now.
"Well," commented McCoy, "Looks like it cleared up. The next exit's twenty miles away?"
"Yah! And they have a garage there."
"That's good…I hope they know about bikes…"
"Well, I'm heading down to Crystal City…If you want, I can hang around, until you know for sure if they can fix your bike. If it takes more than a day, I can drop you off anywhere between here and there."
"Crystal City, Virginia?"
"Yep!"
"Strange!"
"What do you mean?"
"Not that many people from New York know about Crystal City, except if they happen to be staying there while visiting DC."
"That's exactly what I'm doing!"
"Funny…so am I!"
"Visiting friends?"
"No, I'm doing something I should have done a long time ago."
McCoy fell silent for a bit.
"I'm visiting the Wall. A college classmate of mine is up there, and I have been meaning to visit him ever since the Wall was built. I just never…I just…"
"I know, Jack, it's hard…I went there with my Dad ten years ago. It was TOUGH! It still is. But, I owe it to him, to them, to go and visit. I won't lie to you, it's going to be harder than usual this time, after everything that happened with the Quinium case.
"But, I still have to go and pay my respects."
McCoy looked at Casey. He reached out and lay his left hand on her right shoulder again.
"Well, Casey, this time, you won't be alone!"
Casey turned towards McCoy. Her right hand came up and grasped his left forearm just shy of his elbow.
"Neither will you, Jack! Neither will you!"