…As Peas in a Pod
Head pounding, feeling more than faintly nauseous…
At first, Jack McCoy thought it was one of his semi-regular attacks of migraine.
Then, he remembered the night before.
Some of it, at least…
I'm not at the bar now…
Cracking his eyes open cautiously. He was wrapped up in a blanket, stripped down to his skivvies, laid out on the couch of his living room, and he had no idea how he had gotten there.
I was at the bar counter, with Mike and Lennie…and…someone else..?
He tried to comb through fragments of memory, and what might have been dreams, and came up empty.
Must have been toxic drunk…
That was when the doorbell rang. The sound was an assault on his brain, and he burrowed under the blanket.
Go away…
Whoever had come calling wasn't going away; instead, chose to lean on the bell…
"Damn it!" McCoy struggled to his feet, blanket catching his legs, tangling his feet, and he tumbled right out of the couch, tangled up in the blanket like a fly in a spider's web…
"Shit!" McCoy managed to lurch back to his feet, the blanket making a graceless toga as he stomped to the door.
He wrenched the door open, ready to vent his rage at whoever was ringing that damned doorbell; only to freeze in mid-curse.
The man, arms full of grocery bags, looked back at Jack McCoy with a face exactly like his own, and McCoy just stood there, ears suddenly buzzing.
"Oh…no you don't…" the man grabbed McCoy's arm, dragged him to the nearest chair and sat him down firmly, kicking the door shut on his way in.
"You are not going to faint again," the man ordered.
"I…fainted?" McCoy had no memory of that.
"In the bar," the man set the grocery bags down on the kitchen counter. "Sorry I made you faint."
McCoy stared at the doppelganger.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Charlie Skinner," the man said.
"Jack McCoy," the attorney rubbed his aching head. "What are you doing in my kitchen?"
Skinner shrugged, setting out eggs, bacon, bread, and butter.
"I'm going to make a good breakfast for you," he said. "You need a good breakfast to ease the hangover you've probably got going right now."
"What I need is to be left alone," Jack McCoy growled. Skinner snorted and ignored him as he rooted around in the small kitchen, getting the bacon in a pan going, cracking eggs into a bowl, setting slices of bread into the toaster.
"I almost forgot…" Skinner held out a glass of water and two aspirin. McCoy took the aspirin, and stood, feeling slightly woozy.
"I'm going to take a shower," he announced. "Will you still be here when I'm done?"
Skinner nodded.
"Gotta make sure you eat…"
Oh…lord…
The coffee was brewed, the eggs and bacon cooked, the toast buttered when Jack McCoy returned, freshly shaved, and clad in jeans and blue button-down shirt.
"Just in time," Skinner set the plate on the table, along with a mug of fresh coffee. Jack McCoy looked at it all dubiously.
"Not sure I can eat," he admitted.
"Sure you can," Skinner took a seat. "You'll feel better if you do."
McCoy rolled his eyes at that, but sat at the table and slowly began to eat.
"Not bad, Mr. Skinner. You're a good cook."
"Thank you, Jack. Do you cook?"
"Not if I want to live," McCoy sighed. "I'm a certified hazard in the kitchen."
He took a sip of coffee.
"Making breakfast is all very nice, Mr. Skinner; but why are you here?"
"Looked in a mirror lately?" Skinner chuckled.
McCoy scowled, heavy eyebrows furrowing.
"Don't know what you're talking about…" he grunted; and now it was Skinner who sighed.
"I'm going to tell you a story, Mr. McCoy. It was November, Nineteen-forty, and my parents were visiting friends in Chicago. My Mother was pregnant at the time; twins, her obstetrician had said. She went into labor there, and gave birth to two identical twin boys, at Sisters of Mercy Hospital. The date was November the Fifteenth, Nineteen-forty. My brother was stolen out of the hospital the very next day. The police investigation was inept, and my brother was never found."
"You think I'm him?"
"Look in the mirror, Mr. McCoy. The truth is as plain as the noses on both of our faces."
"What do you want from me?"
"A blood test would be nice…"
McCoy choked on his coffee, and Skinner waited while the other man wiped his face with a napkin.
"No…" the other man finally said. "I don't see any reason why I should participate in this…lunacy…"
"Why not?" Skinner demanded. "Do you even know what it feels like to know you had a twin brother, and not even know where he is, or even if he's still alive?"
Suddenly, Skinner was…furious.
"My parents told me what happened when I was old enough to understand. When I was a kid, I used to have these fantasies about how I would find my missing twin brother and bring him back home to my parents…"
He sighed.
"They're dead, Mr. McCoy. They never found their missing twin son, and I…when they died, I kind of…gave up myself. I mean…what was the point? Then, I walked into that bar last night, and there…you…were. Why won't you take that blood test? If you're not related to me, you won't lose anything, and if you are related to me, you've gained a brother. What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of strangers demanding I take blood tests!" McCoy snapped. "I don't know you. Why should I trust you?"
"I don't know you either," Skinner nodded. "That's the whole point, isn't it? Either you're my brother, or you're not; and the only way to find out is to take that blood test. Maybe you don't want to know. But, Mr. McCoy, I do!"
"And, if I'm not your brother…" McCoy was glaring at him. "What then?"
"If we're not related…" Skinner bowed his head. "If we're not, I will turn around and walk away. All I ask is that you let us find out…one way or the other. I'll even pay for the blood test."
McCoy sat there, with that unnerving expressionless gaze.
"There's only one person I'd trust for this," he finally said. "But there's one little thing…"
"Okay…" All Skinner felt was gratitude that McCoy was finally agreeing to do this…
"So…what's the problem?" he asked, and McCoy smiled thinly.
"You won't like the venue…"
Jack McCoy and Charlie Skinner, both in the Morgue…
Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers…her reaction upon seeing the two men together had been priceless…
She had stood there, eyes wide, finger pointing betwixt McCoy and Skinner, back and forth between the two…
"I need blood work done," McCoy had explained. "For both of us."
Rodgers had pulled herself together.
"Stupid question, I know…" pinching the bridge of her nose. "But, officially, I need to know why."
"Why do you think?" McCoy put down the surge of irritation. The whole thing was rapidly segueing into complete surreality…
So…
Now jack McCoy and Charlie Skinner were sitting on examination tables, Skinner clearly nervous to be sitting on something last used by a corpse…
Blood had been drawn from both men, was now down at the labs for DNA testing. Skinner had left, in search of coffee, with the promise that he would be back in a few…
"Who is he, Jack?" Rodgers asked.
"Charlie Skinner," McCoy scratched the side of his head. "I think he's a newsman. We bumped into each other last night, and he thinks I'm his missing twin brother."
"Looking at you, Jack, looking at him," the M.E. drew a breath. "He could be right."
"No…" McCoy shook his head. "My Mother wouldn't do something like that; and my father…"
My old man was a sonofabitch, but not a stealer of children…
"How long before the results come in?" he couldn't bring himself to look at her face.
"A few hours, Jack. I could call you-"
"No," McCoy sighed. "I'll wait here."
It's too important…
Skinner had returned, with coffee for both of them, and now, they were both waiting, in Dr. Rodgers' office, for…
The truth, McCoy sighed. Whatever it turns out to be…
Dr. Rodgers entered her office, folder in her hands.
"The results?" McCoy stood, Skinner following suit.
"Yes," Rodgers opened the file, full of transparent sheets. McCoy knew what they were. He had used DNA results countless times in his trials.
Rodgers handed one transparent sheet to him, and another to Skinner.
McCoy looked at his sheet, tried to understand what all those squiggles and shadings meant.
"Here…" she took his sheet.
"This is your DNA Jack," she laid it on her desk. Then, she took Skinner's sheet.
"This is Charlie Skinner's DNA," she laid it on top of McCoy's DNA readout, and the two DNA readouts merged perfectly.
"The results make it official," Rodgers said. "Jack…Charlie Skinner and you are monozygotic twin brothers; otherwise known as Identical Twins."
Jack McCoy looked at the sheets thus arrayed on Rodger's desk; and all he felt was numb shock.
My Mother is not my Mother…My Father is not my Father…
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry…" Skinner said, and it looked like he really meant it, was really sorry he had upended McCoy's life like this.
"Nothing to be sorry about," McCoy shrugged the hand off, and began to walk away.
The truth was the truth, after all…
"Where are you going, Mr. McCoy?"
"Back to my office, Mr. Skinner," McCoy didn't look back. "You're more than welcome to accompany me. I'm going to find out who did this to… us."
"How?"
"I'm the Executive Assistant DA for the District of Manhattan, Mr. Skinner, and crime is my business…"