McCoy was still pondering his fiancées words from the night before, when he pressed the button numbered 'ten' and the elevator doors closed. He didn't know if it was his own mortality or the fact he was about to make yet another major life change or if he was simply preoccupied with the glory days of his career due to the pending verdict in the Manning/Steele case, but Jack McCoy couldn't seem to keep his thoughts focused on the present.
His mind harkened back to his early days in the DA's office. Back to the day the first Mrs. Jack McCoy walked into his office, back to the first cases he'd won after being promoted to major felonies, back to the day Claire Kincaid had walked into his office and into his heart…
Of all the loves in his life, Claire stood out as the one that invoked the most regret. Although his mind told him the odds of the romance lasting had been even at best… give the age difference, hence the difference in life experience, hence the inevitable battle over children, career, in short, the future…given all of that, his heart still asked the question every now and then; what if they'd lasted? What if she'd lived? What if…
After the elevator door opened, McCoy shook his head impatiently and began down the hall he had walked for the better part of his adult life. He found comfort in the stillness, the calm before the storm, in an office that would become a whirlwind of activity in a few short hours. McCoy had opted to get up when Malinowski's alarm had gone off at five in hopes of finishing more of the paperwork that sat in his in tray before the crisis of the day forced him to abandon the effort once more.
Distracted and weary, McCoy reached for the handle without a second thought. It wasn't until he flipped the light switch that he realized his mistake.
God, every time he saw it, his hatred of it grew. Why the building maintenance supervisor had insisted on having that beautiful wood painted over with that God awful white, was beyond him. All the years, all the memories…it was as if they'd painted over his life with every stroke they gave the walls of his former office.
McCoy shook his head once more, as he moved towards the white board which was filled with notes in a code only Mike Cutter could decipher.
"I can remember when we settled for chalk," he said to himself as turned from the board and his eyes fell on the rack of hastily hung suits and ties. "Well, at least there's one thing in this room that's stood the test of time."
With a soft laugh, he leaned against the board and thought about the times he'd swung the door across frpm the rack open; continuing a usually heated debate, as he exchanged his office attire for street wear.
The remembered Donnelly's raised eyebrow the first time he did in front of her, that look that said 'Just because I won't say it, don't think I don't know exactly what you're doing, Jack McCoy'…Kincaid's look of indifference despite of the pink glow from her cheeks… twenty years ago…he could only image how his current fiancée would have reacted had fate brought them together as assistant and supervisor all those years ago…
"Jack?"
McCoy swung around with a start, nearly dropping the helmet and satchel he held. EADA Michael Cutter eyed his boss with obvious surprise, as well a dash of suspicion. The young man had seen McCoy in his street clothes only a handful of times. He still found himself amazed at the contrast between Jack McCoy 'suit' and Jack McCoy 'Evil Kievel wannabe'. He had to admit Jack McCoy could pull off the rakish biker guy look, even with his graying locks, better than most men Cutter's age.
"Jack, my assistant didn't say anything about an early meeting," Cutter began, as he added his jacket the collection on the rack and picked up a tie. "It's not even seven yet- "
"Relax Mike. No meeting, I just dropped Brooke at Grand Central and figured I'd come in early and catch up on some paperwork," McCoy replied as he gave the younger man a penetrating scare. "I assume your 'working dinner' was everything you hoped it would be?"
"My wh-," Cutter began, taken off guard.
"You had a working dinner with Connie. At least that's what you said when you got around to returning my call last night."
"Actually, dinner turned into hot dogs and lemonade," Cutter said knowing the most believable lie often start with a solid foundation of truth. "Connie had an important errand to run, so we walked and talked through some ideas she had on the closing. I came back here afterwards and printed the notes I'd taken on the Blackberry," he continued as he shifted through the pages on his desk. "You know Jack, those Blackberry's really are lifesavers. You really should consider getting one. Not only can you write a closing while you're walking around the park or a mall, theoretically you could write while you were getting a massage and –"
"Theoretically," McCoy countered as he blindly scanned the page Cutter handed to him. "I've been had enough assistants over the course of my career to know that Connie is about as far from the 'working dinner' kind as night is from day. Theoretically, if she utters the words 'sexual harassment' and your name in the same breath you'll find yourself out of this office before in the end of business- "
The younger man abruptly gave up the battle he'd been losing between tying his tie and trying to follow McCoy's increasingly menacing words.
"Why would Connie…why would you think," Cutter started with wide eyes and an exasperated tone that slowly changed to a tone of amusement, as he began to connect the dots. "Come on Jack, I know you have a reputation of riding the line…and not just in the courtroom…but I'm not you. Connie and I-"
"Excuse me," McCoy responded with an intimidating scowl. "First of all I've never been named in a harassment suit of any kind. Second of all, we weren't discussing my reputation, we were discussing what very quickly could become the end of your career in this office if I find out you are having an inappropriate relationship with a co-worker that could compromise-"
"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you," Cutter shot back incredulously, as the older man a look of equal defiance. "If you think I'm going to discuss my relationship with Connie or anyone else with you, you're in for a rude awakening and if you want to maintain that pristine record of not being slapped with a harassment suit, you better back off Jack or you'll be looking at one with my name on it."
"Fine," McCoy retorted indifferently. "Part of my job as District Attorney is to ensure this office maintains more than just the appearance of professionalism. All members of my staff should feel comfortable in their work environment. I won't knowingly give any member of this staff grounds for a hostile workplace suit much less- "
"Damn it Jack, from the minute I set foot in this office the environment has been hostile," Cutter snapped back without hesitation. "Listen, if you're having second thoughts about this promotion…if you'd rather have Carver or some other Bureau Chef in this office I wish you'd just clear the air instead of using Connie as an excuse to try to force me out."
McCoy's eyes widened as he met the other man's knowing gaze, as the impact of Cutter's words hit him. McCoy knew he'd been on edge since taking the spot across the hall. He'd even caught himself once or twice being overly critical of the new EADA, but until that moment it had never occurred to him that Mike Cutter would question McCoy's decision in making him his lead prosecutor.
"Mike, it's not a question of whether I want you-,"McCoy began, his eyes momentarily fixed on the newly laid flooring in a moment of shame.
"Come on Jack, be honest," the younger man interjected as he handed McCoy his final draft of the Manning/Steele closing. "We both this case is too important for any kind of screw ups. That's why you'd give your right arm to deliver the closing yourself. Obviously you don't trust me to- "
"Mike, I never said I didn't- "
"If you don't trust me with your former assistant, how can you trust me to close a case that could blow this city apart? Your office. Your choice," the younger man said as he pressed the pages into McCoy's hand before striding out the door.
