Soul's Standing
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. If I did, I wouldn't own debt.
Set after "Dignity," based on the exchange between Mike and Connie, borrowing previous items, including an exchange between Jack and Rey in "Thrill."
Many thanks to Merqurius for proofreading this!
--
Jack McCoy shook his head as the turmoil between his top two prosecutors took an unsettling, silent turn. No good would come out of it if Michael Cutter and Connie Rubirosa kept their personal conflict within.
Sitting alone in his office, Jack thought back to another case where a personal faith debate hit close to home for him, too. Then again, it seemed as though he had a case like that on a yearly basis, having lengthy talks with whomever he was partnered with at the time.
Jack looked up and saw Connie standing expectantly at his door. "You know you can come in anytime you need to," he told her.
Connie nodded as she took a few hesitant steps towards him. It was then that he noticed the white envelope in her hand.
"I hope that isn't what I think it is," he told her, a sense of déjà vu from when he approached Arthur with a similar envelope in hand after being pulled from a case.
"It is," she told him. "I'm requesting a transfer."
"Why?" he asked, declining to hold his hand out to make it easier for her.
"Obviously, Mike and I have our differences." She paused before adding, "So do we."
Jack grunted. "To quote Arthur, if I wanted a 'yes man,' we'd have parted ways long ago. I expect you two to have differences. It helps in looking at a case from different points of view. Besides, you two make a good team in presenting the right balance during trial"
"Somehow, I don't think that's what you're thinking now. But, you have to understand that I know I was right in doing what I did."
Jack raised an eyebrow at that. "Really? So we should be putting more victims on trial? Did we do that with Leon Vorgitch, the cold-hearted killer or Samantha Weaver's target or-?"
"You went after Weaver needlessly," Connie said before she could stop herself. "Jack-."
He gave her a thin smile, glad that he chose the right cases for the knee-jerk reaction he sought. "You didn't quit then, so why do you think you should - or I would let you - quit now?"
"Jack, this case was personal. It challenged me, my beliefs. Unlike you or Mike, I can't leave my soul in the umbrella stand when I come in every day. I just can't."
Jack sighed, motioning for her to have a seat while he poured them each a cup of coffee. "You were never expected to do that any more than-." This time he failed to come up with a suitable analogy. "There are just some limits I expect that would be respected in this office. What you did crossed a line."
"So, let me transfer before you can fire me then," Connie told him. "My strengths would work better with White Collar Crimes and-."
"As if a change in divisions would 'wash away' whatever you're feeling now? Who are you trying to fool, Connie, you or me? And no, I'm not going to fire you. I'm sorry."
"You know," Connie said, "so am I."
Jack winced, not so much for the apology as for the tone she said the words in, the memory that came back to mind. "I'm going to tell you something, and before you give me that reminder of your dislike of 'war stories,' this isn't that. Well, not exactly."
----
(a few years earlier)
"I haven't decided what I'm going to do," Jack admitted in reference to Joey Timon's confession caught on tape. He began his ritual of loosening up at the end of another long day, wanting to leave as much of work behind him as possible. The sooner he lost the suit as uniform, the sooner he walked past his visitor who was still in uniform in more ways than one, the happier Jack would be.
"I gotta say I side with the church on this one," Detective Rey Curtis said. "This isn't the way to do it."
Jack hadn't expected that from the officer, given the perfection of the confession to the crime. Then again, it wasn't as though Rey Curtis was visiting strictly as an officer of the law at this time, either.
"Because it offends your sense of religious beliefs," Jack asked, not wanting to know as he put on his old, worn coat, as if subconsciously putting on that first layer of armor. What he said next startled him. "Even my own? I'm not saying that's a reason."
"Give Lennie and me some more time," Curtis pleaded, sounding so much like a rookie. At least when Briscoe argued for time, it was because there was a definite chance of finding something new. "We'll make the case."
"I appreciate what you're doing," Jack said, a sigh of reluctance made silently as Curtis stood his ground, stood in his way of a quick escape. Jack held a hand up, as if that gesture alone would help in pushing the young man back. "But, it's out of your hands."
Curtis didn't budge. "Look, you're a Catholic," he said with such authority and assumed confidence that Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek wondering who this 'kid' thought he was.
"Not while I'm at work; I'm sorry." Jack went for the door, asking himself why he apologized to Curtis. He didn't owe the officer or anyone an explanation to his beliefs and standings, such as they were. Jack was set to dismiss the entire discussion the moment he crossed that threshold.
"You know," Curtis said, "so am I."
Jack stopped. Was Curtis saying he was sorry? If so, what gave him that right? Was he telling McCoy he was Catholic? He already learned that from Lennie when the kid signed on to the 2-7.
"What you believe in, your faith," Curtis continued, ignoring the obvious cue, "sometimes, that's all you got to go on. You can't just forget about it whenever you like."
Jack gave the young man one last look, furrowing his brow, glanced at the floor, and then pivoted to leave before he said what was truly on his mind.
--
(present)
For the next hour, the exchange Jack shared between him and a detective years ago served as the segue he needed to get Connie to examine her choice in greater detail.
"You're the one who always said to remember to put the 'heart' back in the cases we presented before the jury," Connie countered. "How is this any different?"
Jack sighed. "Because this time the heart hijacked the logic of the case. A doctor, a father, a husband was murdered, Connie. Playing into the defense team's reasoning that the man deserved it wasn't part of our routine, was it?"
Connie shook her head. "What defense said had merit, Jack. If it helps by my warning you that I'll probably argue against this sort of thing more and more, I'll understand if you want to dismiss me."
Jack kept his expression as neutral as he could. Here he was aiming for the middle only to see the intelligent woman go to the other extreme.
Alas, she still left the letter on his desk, forcing Jack to look for a 'plan b' to deal with this current rift. The last thing McCoy wanted to do was watch another fine prosecutor walk out that door, only to possibly return for the defense sometime down the road.
--
(In the past)
"You look like something the cat dragged in," Briscoe said as McCoy took the empty seat beside him at the bar.
"Thanks," Jack said dryly. "I knew I should have just gone straight home."
"Ah, but you didn't and gave me a call, so talk," Lennie said, motioning for the bartender to put a drink down before Jack. "We've had crappier cases than this before, Jack."
The Irishman scoffed. "At least the insanity of trying to make sense of them wasn't as…crazy."
Lennie laughed. "What's eatin' at you, McCoy? You're usually the one who could plow through any brick wall the Constitution or other 'little formality' would try to put up between you and a conviction." He took a long sip from his club soda. "Even when some of those dumb choices end with a miraculous payoff."
Jack nodded as he lifted his own drink. "You're not going to forgive me for the Mitchell Titus decision, are you."
"I'm not going to let you forget the crappy deal you made with a cop killer," Lennie corrected him. "What, the fact that you guys lost the best piece of evidence convinced you of something worse to come?"
Jack emptied half of his glass before answering. "I can finally see why there are days you want to shoot Curtis."
Lennie gave Jack's shoulder a hardy slap while laughing out loud. "Oh man, maybe we should get you a double next round. What the heck happened?"
Jack shook his head, focusing, instead on other cases that dared test their moral compass, aware that as he did so, the veteran detective probably fished out the clues needed to get to the crux of the problem.
When Jack finished, Lennie gave him a long, hard look. "It's part generational, part need to be guarded, but Jack, you're the only one who knows why you do what you do. Same thing for me and to have someone else try and shove you towards something different, something you're not - don't."
"Meaning I shouldn't tick off Adam by giving him a letter of resignation, perhaps," Jack quipped.
Lennie grunted. "I'd shoot you first only because you'd set me up with having to get along with someone else when we've already got our own rhythm. We know we can't run away from ourselves, Jack. When you take a stand, it's sometimes against yourself."
"Did you and I swap drinks?" Jack waved a hand to dismiss the remark, beating Lennie to the tab. "I don't know, Lennie. I wonder what the final case will be that makes me walk away from this once and for all."
---
(Present)
"Walk with me," Jack told Michael Cutter at day's end.
He'd had enough, the restless night's sleep thanks to Connie's letter, the awkward moments between Mike and Connie whenever they were in the same room, all of it. So Jack decided to go for the next best thing - making his top duo face their conflict head on.
He didn't know where this partnership would stand after this, but he wasn't about to let Connie slip away into an unnecessary transfer or have Mike let it happen unawares. So, in setting this last-minute, mandatory late-night chat, Jack could only hope to return to the office the next morning and see things standing as they should.
Leaving Mike and Connie to their much-needed talk, Jack couldn't help but wonder for a fleeting moment, what Reynaldo Curtis was up to nowadays.