One week later
That last attack of migraine had been the worst attack Jack McCoy had ever experienced before; and that was saying something. He'd been living with this since he was nine years old.
This attack has lasted three whole days, forcing McCoy to call in sick; and he had never done that before. He'd never had to.
But this one wouldn't leave. Three whole days of lying huddled under warm blankets, whimpering in pain, three whole days where his skull felt like it might implode.
Then, on the third day, early afternoon, the pain just…went away.
Like flipping a switch, it was gone, like it had never been…
Dr. Omar Barrat, Chief Medical Officer at Manhattan Way Station had been alarmed at the migraine's duration.
So, after the migraine had receded, he ordered Jack McCoy to take a truly daunting series of cranial scans; x-ray, CAT scans, and PET Scans, along with a series of neurological exams, and a psychological examination carried out by none other than Dr. Emil Skoda.
Fact was, McCoy felt…different…somehow, after that three-day migraine attack, and he couldn't rightly explain why, or how.
That was what all those tests were for; to see what had changed.
All of that took another two days, much to McCoy's chagrin. But, the specialists couldn't find anything actionable, or dangerous; so McCoy wasn't facing euthanasia.
Yet…
That was always a possibility for someone like him.
At least he was cleared to return to work.
"Welcome back, Jack," Lennie was glad to see him.
"Thanks," McCoy smiled sheepishly. He wasn't used to people actually being glad to see him.
"How's the head?" Briscoe asked.
"Good, for now," McCoy sat at his desk. "What's new?"
"The Shepherd Case…"
McCoy listened as Briscoe filled him in. Michael Shepherd had killed his wife, strangled her. It was a pretty open and shut case; and the DA's Office had just issued a warrant for Shepherd's arrest.
"So we go and get him?"
"Exactly," Briscoe stood.
When it decides to hit the fan, it doesn't fool around, Detective Lennie Briscoe thought irritably.
Michael's Shepherd's arrest went south as soon as Shepherd saw the two detectives.
So, of course, he ran; and Detectives Briscoe and McCoy started running too.
Outside, on a hot, muggy, weekday summer afternoon.
Oh…joy…
Jack McCoy was faster than Briscoe, so he caught up first. But even Jack McCoy couldn't have predicted what Michael Shepherd did next.
Michael Shepherd, young, and built like a stevedore, spun around, grabbed McCoy by both arms, and…hurled him away as if he weighed nothing at all.
Right into the nearest brick wall.
After somehow managing to disarm him and grab both weapons; the standard issue .45, and the Blaster.
Oh…boy…
Briscoe halted, trying to assess the situation. McCoy had slid to the ground, clearly stunned; and Shepherd was standing a few feet away, waving McCoy's blaster around.
"Take it easy, pal!" Briscoe had his own gun out. "Don't make things worse than they already are."
"What the fuck is this?" Shepherd waved the blaster. "You guys hunting Darth Vader or something?"
That was when something…odd…happened.
Shepherd grunted and doubled over, as if something hit him in the solar plexus, the blaster flying out of his hand, then both the blaster and the .45 flew back to Jack McCoy.
What..?
Lennie shook himself.
That's for another day…right now, Shepherd's down…
He ran up and quickly cuffed Shepherd's wrists behind his back; taking the time and care to Mirandize him properly.
Other officers arrived to take Shepherd back to the 27th; which left Lennie free to look to his partner.
"You okay, Jack?"
McCoy was still sitting there, breathing hard, and looking a little frightened.
"Yeah…" he finally said, stashing his guns back where they belonged.
"He slammed you pretty hard, Jack," Lennie knelt by McCoy's side, and held up two fingers.
"How many do you see?"
"Two!" McCoy snapped as he grabbed Briscoe's hand and forced it back down.
Frightened eyes looked up at Briscoe.
"What's wrong, Jack?"
"Did you see anything…odd…Lennie?"
"Odd? Like what kind of odd? Are we having an Incursion?"
"No…" McCoy shook his head, trembling slightly. "I think I'd prefer that over this…"
"This?"
McCoy drew a shaky breath.
"I was down…" he said at last. "And I couldn't get up."
"You were stunned, Jack," Lennie spoke patiently. "Getting slammed into a wall will do that to you."
"Yeah…" McCoy nodded. "But I felt…something happen…in me…"
He brought a hand up to his head.
"In my head," he continued. "It felt like…I don't know…but Shepherd…he went down. Like a sack of bricks."
"I saw," Lennie felt a tingling sense of unease that slowly crawled up his spine. But he wasn't surprised at what Jack McCoy said next.
"I think it was me," McCoy said. "I think I did it…mentally. Like telekinesis, or whatever they call it nowadays."
"Jack…"
"No…Lennie…Please listen. All my life I've lived under the threat of extermination. I'm…dangerous. I can't donate blood, because my blood is tainted. I had a vasectomy because…well…any kids of mine would be monsters…"
The words were coming out in a breathless rush.
"I just attacked a man without lifting a finger, Lennie. What do you think the FBIA will think of that?"
He's afraid…
Gee, living under the axe like he has all these years? I'd be afraid too.
"I won't let them," Lennie spoke softly. "You are my partner. Besides, the only person you were dangerous to here was the perp who decided to resist arrest. You're fine, Jack. And, if they think otherwise, I'll just have to give'em a piece of my mind on the subject."
McCoy just sat there, eyes wide; and that, more than anything else he had seen broke Briscoe's heart.
"You're my friend, Jack," he spoke softly. "And a damn good cop. So, let's get you on your feet."
They'd better not even think of euthanizing Jack over this…
Lennie sighed as he helped McCoy back to his feet.
Euthanasia…
God…I hate that word…
