Uberrimae Fidei

Uberrimae fidei - Of the utmost good faith


Claire Kincaid is dreaming.

She dreams she is lying naked in a hotel bed in Tulsa with Jack McCoy.

She wakes up and it's true.

"I called you," she confesses to Jack. He is running his fingers slowly through her hair as she lies in his arms, and Claire feels as if she might be about to start purring like a cat with the pleasure of it, of his touch, of him, right there with her. "A lot."

"I know," Jack says. "You never said anything, though."

"How did you know?" Claire asks.

"I could tell," Jack says. "No-one breathes like you do."

She tilts her head back to look at him, stunned that her imagined connection was real, and he grins down at her and adds, "Also? I have caller ID."

Claire stares at him and then begins to giggle uncontrollably. "Bastard," she gasps, sits up and yanks the pillow from behind him and tries to hit him with it. He fends her off. Then they're wrestling, and he has her pinned down and then they aren't wrestling any more, not exactly …

Later, she rolls over and props herself up on her elbows to look at him. Jack gives her a sleepy grin but when she doesn't return it he sits up a little, blinks himself fully awake.

"I can't come back to the DA's office," Claire says. She can't say to him, I can't come back to the story. I'll start waking up eating cornflakes if I get in the way of the story. I have stay out of sight. "I just can't, Jack."

"I know," Jack says. He rolls over and sits all the way up and for a moment Claire thinks he's angry with her, that he's turning his back so she won't see it. Then he takes something from his wallet on the nightstand and lies back down beside her. "I saw this in the paper," he says, gathering her into his arms again. "I cut it out for you." He hands her a newspaper cutting. Claire blinks at it and reads, "Manhattan Women's Refuge -- position available -- in-house attorney."

"I'd be really good at this job," Claire says.

"I know," Jack tells her, running his hand slowly up and down her spine. "You'd be fantastic at that job."

"You cut it out for me?" she asks him.

"Well, I had an ulterior motive when I accepted the speaking invitation." He looks away, as if she's going to be angry with him. "I knew you'd be here. And I thought – I didn't presume this, but I thought – maybe I could get you to come back to New York."

"You came to Tulsa to see me?" Claire asks, grinning with delight.

"Yeah," Jack admits.

"I came to Tulsa to see you," Claire tells him. Jack stops looking shamefaced and starts looking smug and Claire starts laughing again and leans up to kiss him good and hard.

When she pulls away he's looking serious.

"So will you come back to New York?" he asks.

"You better believe it," Claire says.

"I never knew why you left." He smooths her hair back from her face and then presses his lips to her temple. "I still don't understand why you left."

"I can't tell you," Claire says.

"You couldn't tell me then," Jack says.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't."

"You left so suddenly," Jack says. "A lot of people think you died in that car accident, you left so fast."

"Let them think that," Claire says. "Let them, please, Jack, I'm serious. I'll come back to New York with you – but not to my old life. That's gone. That woman – let her stay dead. Please."

"I don't understand," Jack says, looking puzzled, and a little irritated – because, Claire knows, if there's one thing he really hates it's feeling like someone else knows more than he does.

"Please, Jack," she says again. "Please."

He studies her for a long minute, and then she sees him let it go. He kisses her temple again, and then her cheek, and then her lips. "Keep your secrets," he whispers, his lips barely brushing hers. "I know everything I need to."


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