The Gift of the Magi
(The Law and Order Version)
Disclaimer: All right, not only did I borrow the characters, I borrowed the idea, too. Hopefully O. Henry and Dick Wolf will both forgive me.
Author's Note: This story takes it's cue from a classic short Christmas story. (My mother's all time favorite) I couldn't resist taking a spin at it, even though I'm usually somewhat bah-humbug when it comes to holidays. I can only hope I did the idea justice. Enjoy!
Jack McCoy poked his head out of his office, scanning the hallways for his assistant, Claire. Her desk was empty, her briefcase was gone, and although he tuned his ears for her footsteps coming around the corner, the office was quiet, save the usual clickety-clack of the secretary's typing.
Perfect, he thought, ducking back into his office. He pulled a catalog out of the bottom drawer of his desk and opened it, scanning the photographs. As he flipped through several more pages, he grew increasingly disgusted. Why was this so hard, he thought – he had bought gifts for every other woman in his life over the years, treating them to vacations or jewelry or whatever, and it had never been as hard to decide on something as it was this particular year. He hadn't even had this much trouble the year before, when he had found a perfectly nice necklace for Claire – a gift, he had noticed, that she had worn once and never again. Now that he thought about it, Sally, Diana and his ex-wife all had a habit of returning his gifts for something they liked better - maybe that was a sign that he should put some more thought into his Christmas shopping.
He stewed over the catalog for a while longer. Somehow nothing seemed exactly right, and the longer he looked the angrier he got. Christmas. Asinine commercial holiday. All this goodwill towards men and peace on earth crap while simultaneously encouraging people to spend all their money on some gift meant to prove to your loved one that they were worth x amount of dollars. There had to be a crime in this somewhere. Was it possible to indict the entire retail establishment? Larceny by false promise, that might work. Taking your money by promising the right amount of dollars spent will result in happy scenes from Norman Rockwell paintings. It sounded like a case he could win, given the chance.
"Jack? What are you looking at?"
Jack looked up, startled, to find Claire standing in his office, holding her briefcase and biting her lip to keep from laughing.
"Where did you come from?"
"I hated to disturb you. You looked so absorbed in…" She reached over and pulled the catalog off of his desk, turning it around to look at the cover, "your Macy's Christmas Catalog."
She tried to stifle a laugh but didn't succeed, and Jack grabbed the catalog back and shoved it in his desk, irritated.
"Fine, you've had your laugh for today," He said, and Claire laughed harder.
"I'm sorry, I just… I never pictured you so involved in a department store catalog."
"All right, I get the point," He said, taking the top file from the stack on his desk, "You can stop laughing now."
"I finished that research you asked for," Claire took a file from her briefcase and laid it on top of the stack, "And these are your copies of those pretrial motions we talked about this morning." Her attempt to sound serious and businesslike again failed when she let out another small snicker. Jack tried to ignore her.
"Thank you." He responded gruffly.
"I'll be at my desk if you need anything." She said as she left.
Jack, paging through a Christmas catalog. Now that was one thing Claire was not expecting to see. Who could he be shopping for, she wondered, hoping it wasn't her. After all, Jack didn't seem to have much taste when it came to gifts – that necklace from last year, oh, how could he ever think that was nice? Not that Claire was picky about jewelry, but that was possibly the single most hideous thing anyone had ever given her. It was true testament to her feelings for Jack that she had actually spent an entire day wearing the thing. Besides, she wasn't much interested in gifts – she'd made that clear enough over the year they'd been together. She valued the expensive dinner he treated her to for Valentine's Day – and the night that followed – more than some pointless romantic knickknack.
But this was Christmas, after all, Claire mused as she pulled her own catalog out of her desk drawer. She had already found the perfect gift for Jack – a new leather briefcase specially designed to hold the laptop computer he'd treated himself to just a few days before. It was expensive, but she'd figure out some way to afford it on her civil servant's salary – he would love it. More importantly, he would get some real use out of it, and there was nothing more satisfying than picking out a gift that was actually practical. She could already picture his smile when he opened the box – with that light in his eyes he reserved just for her, the light that never failed to send shivers up her spine.
Claire smiled to herself and slipped the catalog back in the drawer. She returned to her work, the image of Jack's smile still floating in the back of her mind.
Jack was stumped, still, a few days later. He had been more careful to confine his catalog browsing to non-working hours – and the few hours of the day he and Claire didn't spend together outside of work – but nothing had looked right, and he couldn't think of any more resources. Maybe Claire could give him a hint – as long as he worked the concept into the conversation without her realizing it. That wouldn't be easy – Claire was surprisingly intuitive – but he could try.
"Did you finish that sentencing report on Turner?" He asked her when they met in his office to go over the day's work late the next afternoon. There was a backlog of cases everyone was trying to rush through before the holidays – at least several hours worth.
"Right here," She handed him the file, "We agreed on two-to-six, right?"
"Right," Jack confirmed, setting the file on his stack of "Done" work without opening it.
"Don't you want to look at it?" She asked.
"Why?"
"Because you always look at it."
"I know your work," Jack shrugged, "It's fine."
Claire looked back at the paperwork in front of her, trying not to smile. For Jack, that was quite a compliment.
"Any thoughts on dinner?" He asked.
"Chinese?"
"Again?"
"Why not?"
"All right," Jack said, pulling the worn takeout menu from his desk drawer, "You order."
Claire reached for the phone.
"Any suggestions?" She asked.
"You know what I like." He smiled, and Claire shook her head.
While Claire gave the usual order to the restaurant, Jack tried to concentrate on the case in front of him. Tell his PD we're willing to go to trial with murder two, he noted, then offer man one, twelve to twenty-five. There was no way they'd ever actually get a murder two conviction, but no one else had to know that.
"Forty-five minutes?" Claire was saying, "Busy night? All right, thanks." She hung up, "They'll be here in forty-five minutes. Did you see the new evidence report for that case?"
"What new evidence report?" Jack asked. Claire reached over and pulled the report out from under the page Jack was working on and set it in front of him.
"The guy's girlfriend told the cops where they could find the murder weapon. His prints and the victim's blood on the pipe."
Jack pulled the note he'd made off the file and threw it in the wastebasket.
"Good," He said, "Now we don't have to even offer a plea."
"How did you not notice that? I put it on your desk this morning. Look." Claire flipped the file back to show the cover, upon which there was a post-it note smack in the center reading "JACK – review new evidence report," plain as day.
"Your mind is somewhere else this week," She teased. Jack just shook his head and moved on to the next file.
The arrival of dinner was a good excuse to take a short break. Jack stood and stretched as Claire signed for the delivery, catching a glimpse of the sky outside of his office window as he did so.
"Claire," He said, "Look."
"What?" She was busy verifying the contents of the containers.
"It's snowing."
"Really?" She set the chopsticks down and walked over to the window, "It is. I don't remember hearing the weather report say anything about snow today."
"Since when are weathermen right?"
Claire made a face at him, then looked out the window.
"It is really coming down," She commented, "It looks almost Christmas-y."
Jack looked at her. An opening, he thought.
"It does," he agreed, "Although it probably won't stick."
"Good," Claire walked back over to the desk and began heaping generous chopstick-fuls of noodles on to her plate.
"Why is that good? I thought white Christmases were the ideal." Jack sat down and took the noodle container from Claire.
"Excuse me," She said, "I wasn't done with that."
"You took more than half of it," Jack looked into the box, "You always hog all the noodles."
"I do not."
"You do. Now why is it good that we won't have snow for Christmas?"
"You want to try taking my car, bald tires and all, up to my mother's place in the snow?"
Jack made a face. He had forgotten. Claire's mother and her stepfather, Mac, were having a party on Christmas Eve – a big one – and he had agreed to go. Judging by the way Claire was stabbing at a dumpling with her chopsticks; she probably wasn't looking forward to the idea, either.
"Can we skip it?" He asked, and Claire shook her head.
"No. I promised my mother. Besides, I already went out and bought a dress."
"Somehow I can't picture that as an overriding concern with you."
"Normally it isn't," Claire agreed, "But this party is important to my mother. She gets to put on a big show for all of Mac's colleagues, and having her precious daughter properly outfitted is, well, part of the show. Anyway," she continued, her voice losing its sarcasm, "It's a really nice dress, and I'll never find another opportunity to wear it."
In any other circumstance Jack would have teased Claire for being at all clothes-conscious, which was not normal for her. It was nice to see the heart of an ordinary woman beating beneath the polished veneer of his assistant.
"What does it look like?" He asked, and Claire gave him a strange look.
"You care about my dress?"
"Well, you do, don't you?"
Claire rolled her eyes, "It's green. All right?"
"All right," Jack said, dropping the subject, "Pass the sweet and sour chicken, please."
The conversation had given Jack an idea, and a few days later he found himself presented with another opportunity after a scheduling conflict forced Claire to miss a lunch date with Elizabeth Olivet, who was reporting on an exam with a woman Jack was prosecuting who had killed her husband with a golf club and was now claiming insanity.
"So is there any truth to it at all?" Jack asked Elizabeth as the waiter served their salads.
"None whatsoever," Elizabeth shook her head, "She's as sane as they come. She even let slip which club she used. She was just angry because she found out he was having an affair with his golf instructor. It's a desperate attempt by her attorney to imagine a defense."
"Just what I like to hear," Jack smiled, "I love it when you bring me good news, Elizabeth."
"Always happy to oblige," Elizabeth smiled back.
"So, what are your plans for the holiday?" Jack asked, steering the conversation away from work, which surprised Elizabeth – he could see it in her eyes. But he was on a mission here – one that required a woman's advice.
"Just a family dinner," She said, "You?"
"I have a party I agreed to go to, apparently," Jack replied, "Other than that, I'm not sure. I was thinking of going in to the office for a few hours."
"Working on Christmas?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, don't try to analyze that, please."
"I won't." Elizabeth put down her fork and stared at him for a moment.
"What?"
"You have something you want to ask me." She said, "I can tell. Otherwise you never would have mentioned anything about the holiday."
Damn shrinks, Jack thought.
"You're right," He confessed, "I need some help."
"With what?"
"Shopping."
Elizabeth started to laugh.
"Shopping? Why do men always assume women are the only people who know anything about shopping?"
"Because it's true." Jack said, and Elizabeth laughed even harder, much to his chagrin. The look on his face only made her laugh harder, so he made a move to get up from the table. Elizabeth put her hand on his arm and shook her head, trying to regain her composure.
"I didn't expect that, Jack, I'm sorry. What did you need my help with?"
"I've been realizing I don't exactly have the best taste in gifts." He said.
"Well, all right, then, Did you need a suggestion?"
"What would go with a green dress?" He asked.
Elizabeth looked at him; certain Jack had never uttered those words before. Whoever he is buying for, she thought, she must have done something to his brain, because this is not the Jack McCoy I know.
"What kind of dress?" She asked.
"A dress." He said, "A green dress."
"You know…" Elizabeth said, her eyes lighting up, "I saw it in a window on the way here. I couldn't help but look, and it might be just what you're looking for. I'll show you after we're done here."
Elizabeth led Jack to a small jewelry shop a few blocks away, one with small display windows facing the street. In one window, the one Elizabeth pointed to, was a diamond and emerald bracelet.
"Now that would most likely go with any sort of green dress," She said, "Since I have no clue what the one you're describing looks like."
Jack nodded.
"I wouldn't mind that for a Christmas gift," Elizabeth continued, "It's beautiful."
If Elizabeth likes it, Jack thought, Claire probably will too. They're both professional, intelligent women – it's a gamble, but it's worth a try.
"Thanks, Elizabeth," He said.
"You're welcome. I'll give you a call when I finish the report on Mrs. Anderson."
Elizabeth turned to walk down the street, and Jack took a deep breath before walking into the store.
Later that night, Jack was at home, letting his mind wander. Although he appeared to be working on his cases for the next day, he was really thinking about the jeweler's sales pitch that afternoon – which had been so convincing he had put the bracelet on hold before he even heard the price. When the jeweler finally told him exactly how much twenty-four karat gold diamond and emerald tennis bracelets cost, he told him he had to think about it.
As he thought, budgeting in his head, he realized he had just enough to purchase the bracelet without blowing everything he had planned on spending for Christmas. It would be a stretch, but Claire was worth it.
He had just made up his mind to return to the jewelers the next day when the phone rang. Jack glanced at the clock – nearly midnight – and smiled. There was only one person who called him this late.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Dad! It's me."
"Sarah Katherine McCoy, do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Sure. It's almost nine o'clock."
"Not in California, Sarah. Here."
"Oh. Damn. I always forget that time difference. Sorry. Is it too late?"
"No, no, I'm just finishing some work."
"Dad, you work too hard."
"Someone has to pay his half of your tuition." He reminded her.
"Dad," Sarah began, her voice tentative, "I have to ask you something."
"What?"
"I need your help." She said, and Jack sighed. That "need" usually meant money.
"How much?" He asked.
Sarah named her amount, and then rushed to continue before he had a chance to reply.
"But Dad, it is for a good cause. Some of the other pre-med students are organizing a medical aid trip to Guatemala over spring break, and they invited me to join them. I really want to go."
"Did you ask your mother?"
"Dad… you know how Mom can be," Sarah moaned. Jack sighed. He did know all too well how his ex-wife could be.
"You didn't ask her, did you?"
"No. But she'll say no. She always does. Dad, you're my only hope."
Jack sighed again. Sarah was a smart girl – she knew his one weak point was his inability to say no to her.
"All right," He said, "I'll send you the money."
"Dad, you are the greatest. You really are. Oh, thank you!" Sarah squealed. They talked for a few more minutes and then Sarah hung up, hurrying off to a movie with her roommate.
Well, Jack thought, this changes things. Now I'll have to go into debt for the next three years to buy that bracelet, or… He looked around the room and his eyes landed on a box that was sitting, half unpacked, on top of one of the chairs no one ever sat on.
Maybe that will work, he thought.
Claire found herself, a few days later, standing in a long line at a catalog desk in a department store, glancing at her watch. If this clerk doesn't hurry up, she thought, I'm going to be late for a hearing and I'll never hear the end of it.
"Next," The clerk called, and Claire stepped up.
"I'm here to pick up this order." She said, handing her slip to the clerk, who looked at it, nodded, and disappeared into the back. A few moments later she reappeared, carrying a box.
"Here you go," She said, handing Claire the receipt.
"Wait. This is wrong," Claire said, "The price is wrong."
The clerk glared at her, then looked at the receipt.
"No, that's the price. These are popular this year."
"But the catalog said the price was much lower than this."
"How much?" The clerk asked, and Claire told her.
"Oh, no, that's the briefcase on the bottom of the page," She said, pulling a frayed copy of the catalog from under the desk, "See, you ordered briefcase C but that's the price for briefcase D."
Claire hoped she wasn't blushing. Sure, she had managed to graduate fourth in her class from Harvard Law School, but apparently that didn't mean she could read a catalog correctly.
"Thanks." She said to the clerk before grabbing the box and heading out of the store.
This is a problem, she thought as she walked back to the office, it was expensive to begin with. Now I'm going to end up with a credit card bill I'll never be able to pay. This is shaping up to be an expensive Christmas.
Unless… yes, she thought, I'll have to do that. Unless I want to be paying off this year's Christmas for the next several years.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, both Jack and Claire were more excited than they'd admit – certainly not to each other, and definitely not to themselves.
"I have an idea," Jack said after lunch, when he couldn't bear it any longer, "Why don't we exchange gifts now, before we have to get ready to go to your mother's party?"
"Good idea," Claire replied, "I'm all prepared."
"Me first," He said, "Sit down."
Claire sat on the couch, and Jack pulled the green velvet box from his desk drawer.
"Jewelry?" She said uncertainly, remembering the necklace from last year.
Jack handed her the box.
"Open it." He said. Claire did so.
"Jack," she gasped, "This… I mean… oh… why?"
"It goes with your dress," He supplied, "For tonight."
Claire looked down at the bracelet again, unable to even imagine how much this must have cost. Then she remembered.
"My dress is deep purple," She said, "This is an emerald bracelet. They won't go together." Despite how beautiful it is, she thought.
"No," Jack looked puzzled, "You said your dress was green."
"I returned it," She said sheepishly, "I had a little miscalculation involving costs. But here, open your present."
Jack tore the wrapping paper off the box and looked at the briefcase. Suddenly he started to laugh, which was not the reaction Claire had in mind.
"What!" She exclaimed more than asked.
"I returned my new laptop," Jack said, "To buy you that bracelet."
"You didn't. But you already opened it."
"I hadn't had time to use it yet," Jack reminded her, "Although it took the threat of a lawsuit to get the store to take it back. But they did."
"No."
"Yes." Jack nodded, and Claire started to laugh.
"I bought you a custom designed briefcase for a laptop you don't own, and you bought me a bracelet matching a dress I don't own." She said.
"That sums it up." Jack replied, and they both laughed.
"It's a good thing we have a sense of humor about this," Claire said, glancing at the clock, "And keep up that sense of humor, because now we're about to be late for my mother's party."
A few days later, in that space of a week between Christmas and New Year's, Jack walked into the office with an unusual spring in his step, a little later than usual. Claire, who had already been at her desk for an hour, watched him as he strolled past her to his door.
"Claire," He said, turning around as he opened the door, "Would you join me in here for a moment, please?"
Claire followed him in the office, and he shut the door behind her and smiled.
"I had an idea," He said, "A way to make up for our Christmas mishap. I returned both the briefcase and the bracelet and bought something else."
"What?" She asked.
Jack reached into his old briefcase, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Claire.
"I decided on something a little less extravagant," He said, "But we can't return it."
Claire opened the envelope. Inside was a travel agency itinerary confirming New Year's Eve and New Year's Day reservations at a lodge a few hours' drive upstate. There was also a brochure inside, with the usual glossy photographs that accompany hotel advertisements.
"Now I like this," She nodded.
"I knew you would. And one more thing."
Jack reached back into his briefcase and pulled out another small box.
"Not more jewelry." Claire shook her head.
"I couldn't resist. Don't worry – it wasn't nearly as expensive as the bracelet."
Claire opened the box and found a thin gold chain with a single diamond pendant – exactly her kind of jewelry, simple and understated.
"It's beautiful, Jack." She said, and Jack beamed.
"I'm improving," He said, somewhat proudly, "Even an old dog like me can learn a few new tricks."
"You are improving," Claire agreed, "I think there's hope for you yet, Jack."
"It all depends," Jack said.
"On what?"
"On who I'm shopping for."
Claire walked over and adjusted the window blinds until they were completely closed, and the light level in the office dropped.
"What's that for?" Jack asked.
"Merry Christmas, Jack," She said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss.
"Merry Christmas, Claire." He replied, before returning the favor.