Tandem
Chapter 4
4/17/96
Bellevue, 11:30 AM
Agents Mulder and Scully arrived at JFK Airport, to be informed of Jack McCoy's return. Mulder remembered Jack McCoy from the Koster Incident of just a few years back.
Albert Koster was dead now, found in his cell, cause of death unknown; and Mulder had feared that McCoy's disappearance might mean an equally grim fate for him.
At Bellevue, seeing Jack McCoy like…this…eyelids taped shut, ventilator tube down his throat…that had brought back memories of Dana Scully after her abduction.
Various members of the Manhattan Judiciary, and others from the 27th Precinct, were there, keeping watch over the stricken man; a show of solidarity, support, and love for the comatose EADA.
"How is he?" Mulder had asked the dark-skinned woman who was currently keeping watch over Jack McCoy.
Lieutenant Anita Van Buren sighed sadly.
"The doctors say he's nonresponsive," she laid a gentle hand on McCoy's forehead, fingers smoothing unruly hair back. "I don't understand all the medicalese, but the gist is that they're going to take him off the ventilator. Mr. McCoy had a Living Will in case something like this ever happened."
Mulder nodded, glancing briefly at Scully. She had had one too. A doctor, her conditions for removal of life support had been rather more…stringent…than the average.
The beeping of the heart monitor, and the sound of the mechanical ventilator filled the small private room.
"When are they going to turn off the ventilator?" Scully asked.
"When Adam Schiff authorizes it," Van Buren continued to stroke McCoy's hair. "He should be signing the papers this afternoon, and I plan to be here, to say goodbye…"
3 PM
Adam Schiff sighed as he looked down at Jack McCoy.
It wasn't fair…
Schiff's wife had suffered a massive stroke the year before. She faced life in a coma, in a permanent vegetative state. Schiff had freed her from that, had signed the papers to take her off life support, so she could go on to her Maker. Jack McCoy had done his best to support Adam through all of that.
Now, Jack was the one lying there, on life support, now the machines were keeping him alive, and Adam knew what Jack would have wanted.
"After we turn off the Ventilator," Dr. Marks had told him. "We'll put him on oxygen, an oxygen mask, and see how he does. If he stops breathing, we'll put him back on the ventilator until we can harvest his organs…"
Schiff nodded wearily. McCoy had left wishes to be an organ donor upon his death…
Adam Schiff looked down at his friend.
Open your eyes, Jack. Say something…anything…
Don't die.
Please, don't die…
It was time.
Time to say goodbye…
Schiff laid a hand atop McCoy's hand, bent and kissed the man on the brow.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Claire Kincaid.
She hadn't wanted to do it, hadn't wanted to take him off life support. Now, here they both were, Anita Van Buren there too, as she had promised, watching Dr. Marks as he turned the ventilator off, pulled out the breathing tube, and replaced it with a simple oxygen mask.
Now, it was up to Jack McCoy, whether he lived or died…
Claire Kincaid was sitting by Jack McCoy's side, keeping watch over him. He'd been taken off the ventilator two days ago.
Much to everyone's surprise, and…hope…he was still breathing…still alive.
Still nonresponsive, cannulas in his nose. Claire talked to him; telling him all of the gossip, and news in the DA's Office, knowing that someone-either from the DA's Office, or from the 27th-would arrive to keep vigil over him when she had to leave.
There had been no discussion about it. A schedule had been arranged, between the attorneys at the DA's Office, and the 27th.
Claire had no idea what the others talked to Jack about; just that they did talk to him, as she did, hoping their voices would forge a path for Jack, a path he could take back into life…
The door to the private room opened, and Dana Scully entered, with two cups of tea.
"I figured you could use a tea right now," she looked at Jack McCoy. "Any change?"
"No…" Claire wanted to howl in despair. "He just…lies there."
"Give him time, Claire," Scully said. "Whatever they did to him, it was traumatic. He just needs some time…"
What they did to him…
Agent Fox Mulder had ordered a complete physical examination to be carried out on the comatose patient. The bloodwork, once done, had been promptly lost, much to Mulder's complete lack of surprise, and even Claire had to suspect that a monstrous cover-up was in the works.
But they, whoever they were, couldn't hide everything.
The bruises at wrists and ankles, for example. Someone had had Jack McCoy strapped down.
And there were the tiny, virtually invisible scars on his forehead.
Someone had drilled into Jack McCoy's skull…into his brain…
They tortured him…
All Claire could do was smooth his unruly hair back from his forehead, and talk to him, hope that her voice would bring him back.
"You love him," Scully's comment, so matter-of-fact, caught her off guard.
She and Jack had tried to be discreet about it. Interoffice affairs could be…difficult.
Especially after the incident with Diana Hawthorne. Hawthorne had been McCoy's assistant once; and her…mistake had gotten him disbarred.
That disbarment had been a temporary thing, and his innocence quickly proven. But, in that brief, in between time, Claire Kincaid had seen what Jack McCoy had never allowed anyone else to see; a vulnerable…frightened man.
"What's he like?" Scully asked.
"Jack?" Claire paused, then just let the words come out. "He's brilliant…an incredible jurist, passionate, and really…really complicated. He would give you the shirt off his back, but heaven help you if you get in his way. He can be a bit of an ass…"
"A lot like Mulder…" Scully sighed.
"Except for the believing in Little Green Men," Claire pointed out.
"Except for that," Scully agreed.
Claire bent over Jack, looking at his face, holding his hand.
His fingers twitched.
Dana Scully heard Claire Kincaid's tiny gasp.
"Claire?"
"His fingers!" Claire was shaking. "I felt them twitch."
Scully bent over Jack McCoy too. A brief tremor passed through his body; eyelids flickering, the dark lashes trembling…
"Claire, get a doctor. Now!"
She heard Claire run from the room, turned back to McCoy, in time to see his eyes flutter open, pupils dilated.
He made an indistinct noise, confusion and alarm in voice and body.
"You're at Bellevue Hospital," she gently held his head in both hands, focusing his attention on her, hoping he understood what she was saying.
His eyes on her face, blinking owlishly, even in the dim light.
"Musta been one hell of a migraine…" his voice, slightly slurred, was scratchy from long disuse.
Migraine?
The door opened, light from the hall flooding the small room as Claire Kincaid entered, followed by Adam Schiff and Dr. Marks.
McCoy hissed, and curled up, trying to shield his eyes from the light.
"Close the door," Scully ordered. "Keep the light down."
She bent over the patient.
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked.
Arm thrown over his eyes, McCoy peered up at her.
"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."
"Fair enough," Scully nodded. "I'm FBI Agent Scully."
"Think I remember you," McCoy grumbled. "You were with whatshisface Mulder?"
"Yes," Scully felt a faint grin twitch at the corners of her lips. "Now, tell me your name."
"John James McCoy," he said. "But everyone calls me Jack. That good enough?"
"Yes. Now, what was your last memory?"
"Of all the ridiculous…" McCoy snorted, hand still shielding his eyes. "It was in February, and I was dealing with the Migraine from hell…"
"You get migraines?" Scully was startled.
"Been a card-carrying member since the Seventies," McCoy's eyes were adjusting now. "I'm in a hospital?"
He tried to sit up, an alarmed look in his eyes when he realized how weak he was.
"That can wait a bit," Scully eased him back down, spread the blankets around him.
"Your friend are here," she added. "They've all been worried over you."
Two weeks later
Finally…
Jack McCoy sighed in relief as he ditched that too-well ventilated hospital gown for Jeans and a shirt.
He felt profoundly dislocated.
Three months of my life…gone.
Agent Fox Mulder had suggested he undergo regressive hypnosis, to try to recover his memories of that time; but McCoy sensed that Mulder had an agenda. So McCoy had offered a suggestion of his own.
An anatomically impossible one.
The look on Agent Mulder's face had been priceless…
Jack McCoy had no intention of being a mystery for Mulder to unravel.
He was a prosecutor, a damn good one, and he wanted to get back to being Adam Schiff's Executive Assistant DA.
Three months missing, and Adam refused to replace me…
"Ready to leave this place?"
Speaking of Adam…
There he was, ready to take McCoy to his brownstone. Jack's landlord had been nowhere near as loyal as Adam had been. His belongings had been packed and stored. A new tenant had Jack's apartment now.
"We'll find a nice place for you," Adam had assured him. "In the meantime, you can stay with me until you get your feet back under you."
Jack McCoy allowed Adam to guide him out of the hospital.
How did I end up with friends like this?
