Carpeted
Office of EADA Jack McCoy
One Hogan Place
4 pm Friday 27th October 2006
After dealing with a case conference at the courthouse on his way back from Abbie Carmichael's office, McCoy was tempted to call into McMurtrey's Bar on his way back to Hogan Place. He resisted, but back in his office he dug the scotch bottle out of his bottom drawer and poured himself a generous slug. As he picked up the glass he noticed again the missing cufflink on his right wrist and searched one handed through the top drawer. Damn it! When was the last time he'd seen it?
There's no good way to tell you this …
He knocked back the scotch and picked up the phone, dialling internally. " Colleen. Where's Mr Chen?"
"I think he's in one of the conference rooms, Mr McCoy," Colleen said. "He came by about an hour ago. We don't have an office for him – "
"Get him in here," McCoy said, and hung up the phone. The cufflink wasn't on his desk, either. Dammit! I only started wearing these damn snooty shirts because Alex gave me those damn cufflinks!
She had been so eager to see him open the Christmas gift she'd bought that first December, so crest-fallen when his poorly-concealed bemusement clued her to look at his wrists and realise that he'd never need or wear them. There was nothing for McCoy to do but buy a few shirts with old-fashioned cuffs.
I never was any good at disappointing her. Nowhere near as good as I should have been. If he'd been better at ignoring what Alex wanted, what Alex said, then -
- trunk of a car and the smell of blood and vomit and tape pulled so tight her mouth gapes with it -
McCoy considered and rejected another drink, shoved the bottle back in the drawer and turned to the pile of blue-backs on his blotter delivered in his absence.
He was fully absorbed when Qiao Chen cleared his throat. McCoy looked up, startled, and saw the young ADA standing in front of his desk. " Mr Chen," he said. "How was arraignment this morning?"
Chen hesitated. "All things considered I think it went as well as could be expected," he ventured at last.
"Your expectations of the arraignment process seem to differ from mine, Mr Chen," McCoy said, slinging a completed form across his desk. " Edward Walters got released on his own recognisance. Right?"
"Yes," Chen said.
"And now, Mr Chen, I'll bet you're wondering how I know that, since you have not been to see me all day, or sent the file in."
"I guess someone told you?" Chen said.
"Someone told me," McCoy agreed. He finished another form, slapped it on the pile. "We need to get a few things very clear, Mr Chen."
"Yes, Mr McCoy," Chen said.
"You fucked up this morning."
"I did my best, Mr McCoy, the judge – "
"You weren't prepared to handle the kind of hail-Mary we had on Walters this morning. That's not your fault. What is your fault is telling me you were ready."
"I didn't think – " Chen said, stammered, and tried again. "I didn't think I wasn't."
"How many felony arraignments have you handled?" McCoy asked.
"Until this morning I haven't actually … " The young man's voice trailed away.
"This is not a case for you to learn on!" McCoy snarled.
"No, Mr McCoy," Chen said meekly.
"You will tell me when you have less than perfect confidence in your ability to handle any aspect of this case."
"Yes, Mr McCoy," Chen said.
"And, particularly important, you will keep me informed. I don't ever again want to hear about a development in the case third hand. It is now seven hours since Edward Walters was R.O.R. I am your first phone call. The file comes directly to my desk. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr McCoy," Chen said.
"That's all, Mr Chen," McCoy said. "Leave the case file with Colleen."
"What about – " Chen started, cleared his throat. "What about the rest of the case? Am I off the case?"
McCoy looked at him. A dull ache started in his temple. Am I off the case? Suddenly, he wanted to go down the hall to the office Regan Markham was using. How's Mary? … You should tell me … But Regan was at home, where he'd sent her, where she was safe. And Chen was here, and that was his own decision, and he had to make the best of it.
"You're not off the case," he said.
Chen beamed with relief, and turned to leave. McCoy let him get to the door before he spoke again.
" Mr Chen?"
Chen turned.
"There's not change at the hospital," McCoy said. He watched Chen wonder for a second too long what he meant. "I knew you'd want to know."
When the door had closed behind Chen and McCoy was alone again he reached again for the bottom drawer. Edward Walters on the street. Qiao Chen on the case. Casey Novak slamming his door and Abbie Carmichael issuing non-negotiable dinner demands. He piled them all up but eventually he ran out of problems and his mind turned from Captain Cragen complaining to Arthur Branch to –
Mary Firienze in the hospital.
Dark hair and tape – blonde hair shaved to show sutures – green carpet stained rust red with blood –
He ran his hands over his face, wiping away the cold sweat that had sprung out on his forehead.
"Alexandra Cabot has been shot dead," Branch said bluntly.
McCoy poured another drink, carefully, concentrating against the fine tremor in his hand.
"We've found a car," Anita Van Buren said.
"There's no good way to tell you this…"
He swallowed the scotch and rested his forehead against the cool glass. Just get through this case. Just put this bastard away. Just keep them safe. That's all you have do. Just get through this case.
One case among the thousand he had dealt with. Just one case.
Just get through this one case.
No problem.
Sure.
No fucking problem.
A/N: The slight rewrites to this chapter are due to the insight of Lynn, who has helped me with the inspiration I needed to turn Chen from a cipher to a character. Thanks, Lynn!