Losing Claire
By: Olivia
Part 1-"Mine heart is heavy and mine age is weak;/Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me
speak."-William Shakespeare-"All's Well That Ends Well"
The phone rang. The ringing jarred Jack McCoy's nerves. He had been drinking heavily since
late afternoon, which he attributed to watching a man being executed by the State. And McCoy
had helped put him there regardless of the fact of how guilty the man had been. With that and
with Claire not answering his pages, it had not been a good day.
All he wanted right now was to make the ringing go away and get back to sleep. He reached for
the phone.
"Hello?" asked McCoy groggily.
He could hear some sort of muffled sob. He tried to clear his head and be more alert.
"Claire? Claire, is that you?"
"Jack, it's Lennie."
McCoy was confused. Why was the Detective calling him? But he could tell something was
wrong?
"Lennie, are you okay? Are you still at the bar?"
There was a pause.
"I'm at the hospital," Briscoe said. His voice started to break but he was trying to control it as
best he could. Of all the times he had given bad news to people, this time it was the worst. "Yer
gonna want to come down here."
"Lennie, are you in trouble? What's wrong?" McCoy wasn't quite certain why the Detective
would call him of all people if he was in trouble, but maybe it was the sort of trouble that the
DA's office would get involved in.
"It's Claire. I'm so sorry, Jack." The energy drained out of Lennie. The spoken words seemed
to drive this horrible nightmare into reality.
McCoy's heart stopped beating. It literally froze right there. The hangover disappeared in an
instant.
"What happened?" Jack asked in a whisper. He needed to know, but he didn't want to. She was
a young woman in the prime of her life. It couldn't be anything natural, as if anything was
natural about death, but the answers that whispered in Jack's ear were too horrible to mention.
He dealt with criminals day in and out. He knew the worst they could do.
"After you left the bar, Claire showed up looking for you. I...I messed up. I had a few drinks.
Claire offered me a ride home. We were driving along and...and all I remember is seeing the
headlights when a car broadsided us. Somebody must have seen the accident and called 9-1-1. I
got out of the car and went around to get her out too. I wanted to make sure she was okay,
but...there was too much blood. We're at the hospital. The doctors say it doesn't look good."
Part of McCoy snapped in two. His professional side demanded answers. Is the driver in
custody? If not, had the eye witnesses been questioned? What was being down to look for the
driver? But the personal side of McCoy won out.
"I'm coming right now. Where are you?"
McCoy got the information.
"I'm going to try and contact her parents," said Briscoe solemnly.
McCoy hung up the phone and ran down the steps to the garage. He got onto his motorcycle and
sped into the night.
Part II-"Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak/Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and
bids it break."-William Shakespeare-"Macbeth"
McCoy ran though the hospital corridors until he reached Claire Kincaid's room.
Briscoe was sitting inside quietly watching Kincaid's chest rise and fall as monitors and
machines beeped all around. Lennie looked up when Jack walked in and their eyes met. This
was it.
Lennie stood up, but Jack's attention fixed itself on Claire. Lennie hesitantly put a hand on
Jack's shoulders. "The doctors did everything they could, Jack. There was just too much
damage. She's slipping away. I'm so sorry."
"Did you reach her parents?" Jack asked quietly, never taking his eyes off Claire.
"No. They're not there. I left a message for them to contact me immediately, but this isn't the
type of news I wanna leave on their answering machine. For some reason Rey wasn't home, but
Van Buren and Schiff are on their way."
Jack nodded mechanically. "Could I have a few moments alone with her?"
Lennie nodded and left him alone. Jack sat down in the chair Lennie had vacated. It was next to
Claire's bed. There Claire lay motionless with tubes and wires coming out of her. Her short,
black hair was disheveled. Her chest rose slowly up and down unnaturally.
With one hand, he held Claire's hand and with the other hand he smoothed away her hair from
her face. She was becoming blurry. Jack couldn't figure out why for a second and then he
realized that he was crying. It didn't matter. He was losing Claire right before his eyes.
He berated himself. If only he hadn't talked her into staying with the job a month ago. If only
he hadn't allowed her to attend the execution. If only he hadn't tried to get her to come to the bar
all day. If only he had waited a few more minutes at the bar, he would have met up with her. If
only he wasn't such a jerk. If only he hadn't pushed her. If only. If only.
What had he said when she hadn't shown up at the bar, "to hell with her?" He felt as if he might
have well have been the driver of the car that crashed into her. And where ever he or she was,
Jack was cursing that person.
And he thought about Claire. Two years they had worked together. And for one of those years
they had been more than colleagues, more than friends. And it had all come to this.
And again he though of how much of a jerk he was and how Claire would never really know how
truly sorry he was.
He thought of cases they had tried together-fights they had and laughter they had shared. They
had triumphs and tribulations. They had won cases and lost cases together.
And then he thought of only Claire Kincaid, the Claire Kincaid that was separate from the work.
But it was almost impossible to do. She and he were the same-never truly separated from the
cases they prosecuted.
The cases themselves brought out their own true feelings, beliefs, and convictions. It was as if
with each case a piece of themselves was being tried. Just like today. Watching that man be
executed had changed them all a little. They saw first hand the consequences of their actions,
their work. They hadn't physically killed that man, but they had put him in that position. The
Detectives caught the criminal who the District Attorneys prosecuted right into his grave. If this
wasn't State sanctioned punishment, they all would have been on trial for his murder.
And for some reason today it didn't comfort him that this was the law and that the man had
deserved to die. But this man dying could not right the wrong that he had done. He could not
bring the woman he had killed back to life. Jack had seen his own piece of guilt reflected in
Claire's eyes when he had let her out of the car earlier that day. He should have never have
given her the rest of the day off. She would have been miserable, but at least she would have
been alive.
Claire. Claire. Claire.
Jack thought of the other assistants he had been romantically involved with over the years. They
had all broken up with him. They left him and the job because it was one and the same. Even
though he had convinced Claire to stay this past month, he could tell she was still thinking about
leaving, especially after this morning. Would she have left him as well? Would she have just
been another name on a long list of failed relationships?
He knew one thing though, he would have fought for her. If she wanted to leave the job he
would have coped with it. He was married to his job, but he would fight for her. He would make
the time for her and for the job. If she didn't want to be by his side at work, he wanted her by his
side off of work. When something was important you made time for it.
Jack felt Claire slipping away and he grasped her hand tighter. He wanted to hold on to her, as if
by doing so he could keep her in this world. He wanted her to wake up and tell him this was all a
huge mistake. She would smile at him and tell him she was perfectly fine and ready to go off
with him. Jack wanted to hold on to her integrity, her honesty, her laughter, her smiles, her
goodness, her sense of justice, her toughness, her compassion, her intelligence, and her spirit. He
wanted to hold on to Claire Kincaid and not let her slip off quietly into the night.
Jack leaned over Claire. He kissed her lips and then her forehead gently. He laid his head next
to her and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Claire Kincaid."
He suddenly felt his hand being grasped and just as suddenly fall limp. Then all he could hear
was the monitors going crazy.
Jack put his arms around Claire's neck and buried his head in her neck. He was only vaguely
aware of the doctors and nurses pulling him off of Claire.
Part III-"Weep I cannot,/But my heart bleeds."-William Shakespeare-"The Winter's Tale"
Jack stumbled out of the hospital room rubbing his eyes. Lennie walked up to him and gently led
him to a bench outside Claire's room. Lennie knew there was no hope left.
"I'm sorry, Jack. You'll never know how sorry I am. My life has turned into one big long
apology. I messed up when I took that drink tonight. And then I had to have a few more ya
know. And if I hadn't been drinking, Claire would've never offered me a ride home. I should
have taken a cab like you."
Jack shook his head. "We could sit here all night assessing blame. I blame myself for bugging
Claire all day to come down to the bar. And then she finally shows up when I'm not there. It's
not you're fault, Lennie. You may have had a few drinks, but you weren't driving that car that
hit Claire, and you I might add."
"I would have gladly taken her place if I could."
"That's not what I meant. As much as I hurt for Claire, I'm glad you're okay."
Lennie gave him a wry smile of thanks.
"Any word on the driver of the car that hit you?"
"No, but they have people out looking. I called in a few favors. We'll find whoever did this. I
wish I could remember more, but all I keep seeing are those damn headlights. It looks like I'm
not even a good witness."
"I've been thinking about the driver. I sorta realized something today with the execution and all.
Finding the person responsible doesn't undo this. Finding the driver won't bring Claire back. I
think that is what she feared, what she was disillusioned by. For all our work we never undo any
damage, or right any wrong. The crime has already been committed. Punishing the person just
turns into an act of revenge. But there is no true justice."
Lennie shook his head. 'That's where you're wrong, Counselor. You can't think like that. What
you do, what I do, it's important. If we didn't work to solve crimes and punish the offenders, the
world be chaos. No one would be responsible for their actions. A killer would kill, and kill, and
kill again. Predators would prey on the innocent and unsuspecting. There would be no peace.
There must be accountability."
There was a pause.
"Lennie, did you...did you and the others know about Claire and I?" Jack asked sadly, almost
fearfully.
Lennie nodded his head. "It was something we didn't feel right discussing. It was your lives and
your work never suffered. You two were always professional."
This time it was Jack who nodded knowingly. "I've been thinking that maybe I was no better
than Judge Thayer. Perhaps I took advantage of my age and position with Claire. It was
unprofessional and irresponsible."
"Hey," Lennie said sternly. "That's not fair. You are no Judge Thayer. Judge Thayer was
controlling and manipulative. What you had with Claire was mutual. I'm not claiming to be an
expert in the matters of the heart, as my two ex-wives will attest to, but I saw the way Claire
looked at you sometimes. It was mutual."
But McCoy was just getting started. "Even if that is true, what does that have to do with
anything! Remember Diana? When she was my assistant she tampered with that witness to get
the testimony, which wound up putting an innocent man, I might add, in jail. And why did she
do it? To please me!"
Lennie stared at him. "Claire was no Diana, Jack. Remember the rest of the trial. You were
blamed for the tampering. And what did Claire do? She didn't lie to protect you, which she very
easily could have. Instead she fought hard with the truth and wound up keeping both of your
reputations intact. She didn't do it to please you. She didn't do it to seek your approval. She did
it as her own person and she did it as your friend, without compromising herself or you."
Lennie continued quietly, but insistently. "You've been sitting here trying to figure out what's
wrong with yourself. You're blaming yourself. You're wondering why you get involved with
your assistants. It's simple. You are married to your work, Counselor, and that's why you get
involved with them. It's not because your some male chauvinistic pig that takes advantage of
your young, good-looking female assistants. It's because you are so tied to your work that you
become attracted to the person that's there by your side day and night helping you win cases,
helping you punish criminals. You're there with that person seven days a week, fifteen hour
days. You're looking for your partner in life and you find that in your assistants. You are able to
share your day with your assistants much more than you could share it with someone who
doesn't work with you. Experiences shared are much more important than simply relating them.
And with all the confidentiality, you couldn't talk to anyone else outside of the people you work
with. You and Claire work together towards the same goal-serving justice. You're in the
rowboat with her paddling in the same direction. And sometimes that makes all the difference in
the world, Counselor."
Jack nodded smiling sadly. "You're right, Detective. But you forgot to mention that eventually
things go south in the relationship. My assistants wind up leaving me, just as Claire was going to
do."
Lennie gently said, "But you've summed up the entire point right there. You don't know what
Claire was going to do. Just because she might have been thinking about leaving the job, doesn't
mean that she wanted to leave you. She did show up at the bar looking for you after all. And for
what it's worth, I think she really did love you."
Jack looked at Lennie to see if he was just saying what he wanted to hear. But he could tell from
his face that he wasn't.
Their attention was grabbed by the door to Claire's room opening. McCoy and Briscoe stood up
as a doctor moved towards them.
"I'm very sorry. The damage was just too severe. We did all we could."
But they stopped hearing the doctor as a hospital orderly rolled a stretcher with a white sheet
overtop out of the room. McCoy took a few steps toward it as a hospital employee pushed it
towards and elevator to take it to the morgue. Briscoe was right behind him. They watched as
the orderly waited for the elevator.
Briscoe stopped McCoy with his voice. "I was talking to her, to Claire, before the car hit us. I
was telling her how I was so bad at relationships with real people. I was better with dead people,
which is why I'm good at my job. And then I realized at that moment how happy I was. I told
Claire how she was sorta like a daughter to me. I realized how important my work relationships
are to me-my partners, Mike and now Rey, and Van Buren, and Claire, and even you. I'm good
at those relationships because, like you, I'm married to my work, and were all working towards
the same goal-justice. The people, the friendships, they're important to me. They're not less
valid because their work relationships. It was the drink talking, but I meant what I said to her. I
told her I thought of her as my own daughter. I was proud of her and proud to know her."
The elevator dinged and the orderly pushed Claire's empty shell onto it. The doors closed.
"I loved her, Lennie."
Lennie put his hand on Jack's shoulder
"I know you do. We all loved her, each in our own way."
By: Olivia
Part 1-"Mine heart is heavy and mine age is weak;/Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me
speak."-William Shakespeare-"All's Well That Ends Well"
The phone rang. The ringing jarred Jack McCoy's nerves. He had been drinking heavily since
late afternoon, which he attributed to watching a man being executed by the State. And McCoy
had helped put him there regardless of the fact of how guilty the man had been. With that and
with Claire not answering his pages, it had not been a good day.
All he wanted right now was to make the ringing go away and get back to sleep. He reached for
the phone.
"Hello?" asked McCoy groggily.
He could hear some sort of muffled sob. He tried to clear his head and be more alert.
"Claire? Claire, is that you?"
"Jack, it's Lennie."
McCoy was confused. Why was the Detective calling him? But he could tell something was
wrong?
"Lennie, are you okay? Are you still at the bar?"
There was a pause.
"I'm at the hospital," Briscoe said. His voice started to break but he was trying to control it as
best he could. Of all the times he had given bad news to people, this time it was the worst. "Yer
gonna want to come down here."
"Lennie, are you in trouble? What's wrong?" McCoy wasn't quite certain why the Detective
would call him of all people if he was in trouble, but maybe it was the sort of trouble that the
DA's office would get involved in.
"It's Claire. I'm so sorry, Jack." The energy drained out of Lennie. The spoken words seemed
to drive this horrible nightmare into reality.
McCoy's heart stopped beating. It literally froze right there. The hangover disappeared in an
instant.
"What happened?" Jack asked in a whisper. He needed to know, but he didn't want to. She was
a young woman in the prime of her life. It couldn't be anything natural, as if anything was
natural about death, but the answers that whispered in Jack's ear were too horrible to mention.
He dealt with criminals day in and out. He knew the worst they could do.
"After you left the bar, Claire showed up looking for you. I...I messed up. I had a few drinks.
Claire offered me a ride home. We were driving along and...and all I remember is seeing the
headlights when a car broadsided us. Somebody must have seen the accident and called 9-1-1. I
got out of the car and went around to get her out too. I wanted to make sure she was okay,
but...there was too much blood. We're at the hospital. The doctors say it doesn't look good."
Part of McCoy snapped in two. His professional side demanded answers. Is the driver in
custody? If not, had the eye witnesses been questioned? What was being down to look for the
driver? But the personal side of McCoy won out.
"I'm coming right now. Where are you?"
McCoy got the information.
"I'm going to try and contact her parents," said Briscoe solemnly.
McCoy hung up the phone and ran down the steps to the garage. He got onto his motorcycle and
sped into the night.
Part II-"Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak/Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and
bids it break."-William Shakespeare-"Macbeth"
McCoy ran though the hospital corridors until he reached Claire Kincaid's room.
Briscoe was sitting inside quietly watching Kincaid's chest rise and fall as monitors and
machines beeped all around. Lennie looked up when Jack walked in and their eyes met. This
was it.
Lennie stood up, but Jack's attention fixed itself on Claire. Lennie hesitantly put a hand on
Jack's shoulders. "The doctors did everything they could, Jack. There was just too much
damage. She's slipping away. I'm so sorry."
"Did you reach her parents?" Jack asked quietly, never taking his eyes off Claire.
"No. They're not there. I left a message for them to contact me immediately, but this isn't the
type of news I wanna leave on their answering machine. For some reason Rey wasn't home, but
Van Buren and Schiff are on their way."
Jack nodded mechanically. "Could I have a few moments alone with her?"
Lennie nodded and left him alone. Jack sat down in the chair Lennie had vacated. It was next to
Claire's bed. There Claire lay motionless with tubes and wires coming out of her. Her short,
black hair was disheveled. Her chest rose slowly up and down unnaturally.
With one hand, he held Claire's hand and with the other hand he smoothed away her hair from
her face. She was becoming blurry. Jack couldn't figure out why for a second and then he
realized that he was crying. It didn't matter. He was losing Claire right before his eyes.
He berated himself. If only he hadn't talked her into staying with the job a month ago. If only
he hadn't allowed her to attend the execution. If only he hadn't tried to get her to come to the bar
all day. If only he had waited a few more minutes at the bar, he would have met up with her. If
only he wasn't such a jerk. If only he hadn't pushed her. If only. If only.
What had he said when she hadn't shown up at the bar, "to hell with her?" He felt as if he might
have well have been the driver of the car that crashed into her. And where ever he or she was,
Jack was cursing that person.
And he thought about Claire. Two years they had worked together. And for one of those years
they had been more than colleagues, more than friends. And it had all come to this.
And again he though of how much of a jerk he was and how Claire would never really know how
truly sorry he was.
He thought of cases they had tried together-fights they had and laughter they had shared. They
had triumphs and tribulations. They had won cases and lost cases together.
And then he thought of only Claire Kincaid, the Claire Kincaid that was separate from the work.
But it was almost impossible to do. She and he were the same-never truly separated from the
cases they prosecuted.
The cases themselves brought out their own true feelings, beliefs, and convictions. It was as if
with each case a piece of themselves was being tried. Just like today. Watching that man be
executed had changed them all a little. They saw first hand the consequences of their actions,
their work. They hadn't physically killed that man, but they had put him in that position. The
Detectives caught the criminal who the District Attorneys prosecuted right into his grave. If this
wasn't State sanctioned punishment, they all would have been on trial for his murder.
And for some reason today it didn't comfort him that this was the law and that the man had
deserved to die. But this man dying could not right the wrong that he had done. He could not
bring the woman he had killed back to life. Jack had seen his own piece of guilt reflected in
Claire's eyes when he had let her out of the car earlier that day. He should have never have
given her the rest of the day off. She would have been miserable, but at least she would have
been alive.
Claire. Claire. Claire.
Jack thought of the other assistants he had been romantically involved with over the years. They
had all broken up with him. They left him and the job because it was one and the same. Even
though he had convinced Claire to stay this past month, he could tell she was still thinking about
leaving, especially after this morning. Would she have left him as well? Would she have just
been another name on a long list of failed relationships?
He knew one thing though, he would have fought for her. If she wanted to leave the job he
would have coped with it. He was married to his job, but he would fight for her. He would make
the time for her and for the job. If she didn't want to be by his side at work, he wanted her by his
side off of work. When something was important you made time for it.
Jack felt Claire slipping away and he grasped her hand tighter. He wanted to hold on to her, as if
by doing so he could keep her in this world. He wanted her to wake up and tell him this was all a
huge mistake. She would smile at him and tell him she was perfectly fine and ready to go off
with him. Jack wanted to hold on to her integrity, her honesty, her laughter, her smiles, her
goodness, her sense of justice, her toughness, her compassion, her intelligence, and her spirit. He
wanted to hold on to Claire Kincaid and not let her slip off quietly into the night.
Jack leaned over Claire. He kissed her lips and then her forehead gently. He laid his head next
to her and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Claire Kincaid."
He suddenly felt his hand being grasped and just as suddenly fall limp. Then all he could hear
was the monitors going crazy.
Jack put his arms around Claire's neck and buried his head in her neck. He was only vaguely
aware of the doctors and nurses pulling him off of Claire.
Part III-"Weep I cannot,/But my heart bleeds."-William Shakespeare-"The Winter's Tale"
Jack stumbled out of the hospital room rubbing his eyes. Lennie walked up to him and gently led
him to a bench outside Claire's room. Lennie knew there was no hope left.
"I'm sorry, Jack. You'll never know how sorry I am. My life has turned into one big long
apology. I messed up when I took that drink tonight. And then I had to have a few more ya
know. And if I hadn't been drinking, Claire would've never offered me a ride home. I should
have taken a cab like you."
Jack shook his head. "We could sit here all night assessing blame. I blame myself for bugging
Claire all day to come down to the bar. And then she finally shows up when I'm not there. It's
not you're fault, Lennie. You may have had a few drinks, but you weren't driving that car that
hit Claire, and you I might add."
"I would have gladly taken her place if I could."
"That's not what I meant. As much as I hurt for Claire, I'm glad you're okay."
Lennie gave him a wry smile of thanks.
"Any word on the driver of the car that hit you?"
"No, but they have people out looking. I called in a few favors. We'll find whoever did this. I
wish I could remember more, but all I keep seeing are those damn headlights. It looks like I'm
not even a good witness."
"I've been thinking about the driver. I sorta realized something today with the execution and all.
Finding the person responsible doesn't undo this. Finding the driver won't bring Claire back. I
think that is what she feared, what she was disillusioned by. For all our work we never undo any
damage, or right any wrong. The crime has already been committed. Punishing the person just
turns into an act of revenge. But there is no true justice."
Lennie shook his head. 'That's where you're wrong, Counselor. You can't think like that. What
you do, what I do, it's important. If we didn't work to solve crimes and punish the offenders, the
world be chaos. No one would be responsible for their actions. A killer would kill, and kill, and
kill again. Predators would prey on the innocent and unsuspecting. There would be no peace.
There must be accountability."
There was a pause.
"Lennie, did you...did you and the others know about Claire and I?" Jack asked sadly, almost
fearfully.
Lennie nodded his head. "It was something we didn't feel right discussing. It was your lives and
your work never suffered. You two were always professional."
This time it was Jack who nodded knowingly. "I've been thinking that maybe I was no better
than Judge Thayer. Perhaps I took advantage of my age and position with Claire. It was
unprofessional and irresponsible."
"Hey," Lennie said sternly. "That's not fair. You are no Judge Thayer. Judge Thayer was
controlling and manipulative. What you had with Claire was mutual. I'm not claiming to be an
expert in the matters of the heart, as my two ex-wives will attest to, but I saw the way Claire
looked at you sometimes. It was mutual."
But McCoy was just getting started. "Even if that is true, what does that have to do with
anything! Remember Diana? When she was my assistant she tampered with that witness to get
the testimony, which wound up putting an innocent man, I might add, in jail. And why did she
do it? To please me!"
Lennie stared at him. "Claire was no Diana, Jack. Remember the rest of the trial. You were
blamed for the tampering. And what did Claire do? She didn't lie to protect you, which she very
easily could have. Instead she fought hard with the truth and wound up keeping both of your
reputations intact. She didn't do it to please you. She didn't do it to seek your approval. She did
it as her own person and she did it as your friend, without compromising herself or you."
Lennie continued quietly, but insistently. "You've been sitting here trying to figure out what's
wrong with yourself. You're blaming yourself. You're wondering why you get involved with
your assistants. It's simple. You are married to your work, Counselor, and that's why you get
involved with them. It's not because your some male chauvinistic pig that takes advantage of
your young, good-looking female assistants. It's because you are so tied to your work that you
become attracted to the person that's there by your side day and night helping you win cases,
helping you punish criminals. You're there with that person seven days a week, fifteen hour
days. You're looking for your partner in life and you find that in your assistants. You are able to
share your day with your assistants much more than you could share it with someone who
doesn't work with you. Experiences shared are much more important than simply relating them.
And with all the confidentiality, you couldn't talk to anyone else outside of the people you work
with. You and Claire work together towards the same goal-serving justice. You're in the
rowboat with her paddling in the same direction. And sometimes that makes all the difference in
the world, Counselor."
Jack nodded smiling sadly. "You're right, Detective. But you forgot to mention that eventually
things go south in the relationship. My assistants wind up leaving me, just as Claire was going to
do."
Lennie gently said, "But you've summed up the entire point right there. You don't know what
Claire was going to do. Just because she might have been thinking about leaving the job, doesn't
mean that she wanted to leave you. She did show up at the bar looking for you after all. And for
what it's worth, I think she really did love you."
Jack looked at Lennie to see if he was just saying what he wanted to hear. But he could tell from
his face that he wasn't.
Their attention was grabbed by the door to Claire's room opening. McCoy and Briscoe stood up
as a doctor moved towards them.
"I'm very sorry. The damage was just too severe. We did all we could."
But they stopped hearing the doctor as a hospital orderly rolled a stretcher with a white sheet
overtop out of the room. McCoy took a few steps toward it as a hospital employee pushed it
towards and elevator to take it to the morgue. Briscoe was right behind him. They watched as
the orderly waited for the elevator.
Briscoe stopped McCoy with his voice. "I was talking to her, to Claire, before the car hit us. I
was telling her how I was so bad at relationships with real people. I was better with dead people,
which is why I'm good at my job. And then I realized at that moment how happy I was. I told
Claire how she was sorta like a daughter to me. I realized how important my work relationships
are to me-my partners, Mike and now Rey, and Van Buren, and Claire, and even you. I'm good
at those relationships because, like you, I'm married to my work, and were all working towards
the same goal-justice. The people, the friendships, they're important to me. They're not less
valid because their work relationships. It was the drink talking, but I meant what I said to her. I
told her I thought of her as my own daughter. I was proud of her and proud to know her."
The elevator dinged and the orderly pushed Claire's empty shell onto it. The doors closed.
"I loved her, Lennie."
Lennie put his hand on Jack's shoulder
"I know you do. We all loved her, each in our own way."