1970

Two young attorneys on a Biker's Holiday. It was loads of fun. Until one of them wiped out…

"Jack!"

Jack McCoy didn't hear Paul Koppel's voice. He was in too much pain.

Pain splintered through his rib-cage, and up and down his right leg. All he could do was curl up, try to breathe through the pain.

He felt Paul's hands gently touching, running across his chest.

It only made him curl up more.

"Jesus…Ribs and right leg?"

"Broken?" It hurt to speak.

"Looks that way, Jack," Paul Koppel took off his bike helmet, helped McCoy take off his helmet too.

"How many fingers, buddy?" he held up his hand.

"Three," McCoy snarled through the pain.

"Good. Not seeing double," Koppel looked around.

The two lawyers had been on one of those twisty county lanes out in the ass end of nowhere when McCoy had wiped out. Now, they were both by the side of the road, McCoy shivering uncontrollably. Koppel took off his leather Jacket, wrapped McCoy up in it.

"A man could wait out here for hours before help arrived," Koppel muttered. "Don't think you have that kind of time, Jack."

He stood, and panic jolted through McCoy.

"Don't leave me!"

"I've got to Jack," Koppel bent, picked up a bike helmet. "You need medical attention. I'll get back as soon as I can."

"Paul…"

"I'll be back buddy. Just…hang on!"

Paul ran to his bike. Then he was off…

…..

Manhattan, 1994

Adam Schiff, sitting at a table of his favorite bar. Directly across from him was his brand spanking new Executive Assistant DA.

Jack McCoy.

After Ben Stone's abrupt departure, there was literally no one else Schiff could think of to fill the void.

"How are Anna and the kids?" he asked.

"They're all fine," McCoy smiled, just a trace of nervousness in him. "Becky's out to California now, with Jim; Pauly's at NYU, studying Law. Wants to follow in his Old Man's footsteps."

"The nest is emptying…" Schiff nodded knowingly.

"Yeah…Anna's not letting it get to her. She's got her art gallery to keep her occupied. We're fine."

"Good," Schiff sipped his scotch. "Ready to be my EADA?"

McCoy grinned.

"What do you think?"

…..

Claire Kincaid had arrived at the office bright and early. The stories about the new EADA were legion; his hyper-competitive nature, his habit of putting in…grueling hours at the office, and his nick-name…

Hang'em High McCoy.

What nobody had ever mentioned was that he was one very attractive man; tall, lean, hawk-nosed, with a shock of unruly black hair.

Married too…

Kincaid arrived in time to see Jack McCoy place two framed photographs in positions of importance on his desk.

One was the obligatory Family Photo, McCoy, his wife, Anna, and their two children. Rebekah and Paul.

The other had been taken some time in the late Sixties, or very early Seventies.

Two basketball players. One was clearly a young Jack McCoy, black hair flopping into his eyes. The other was slightly taller, larger across chest and shoulders.

"Paul Koppel…" There was sadness in Jack McCoy's eyes. "He was Point Guard for our team."

"Win any championships?"

"Three years running…"

He set the photo next to the family photo, placed just so…

"Is he practicing Law too?"

"No…" McCoy sighed. "He's dead."

The man squared his shoulders. Then he turned back to Kincaid.

"So, Miss Kincaid, bring me up to date. What cases do we have?"