Chapter 8 – Showdown

Jack juggled his paper with the cups of coffee he had picked up on the way to Serena's apartment.  He paused to remember her apartment number, then walked up to the doorman, who let him in with a perfunctory nod.  To Jack's surprise, someone was already pressing Serena's buzzer.

"Detective Benson, I wasn't expecting to see you here.  New information about the case?" asked Jack.

Benson turned around, looking startled and, for some reason, vaguely guilty.  "Not exactly, no."  The inner door clicked open and Olivia opened it for the counselor.  She drew something from her pocket and handed it to him.  "These are Ms. Southerlyn's keys.  If you could return them to her for me…"  Without another word, she left.

Puzzled, Jack took the elevator up to the second floor.  He knocked on Serena's door, and she opened it saying, "Detective, thanks for…"  Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened.  "Jack.  Hi."

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Oh, sure.  Sorry."  Serena stepped aside to let him in.

"I heard about what happened last night—"  Apparently not everything that happened, Jack thought before he could help himself.  "—and I wanted to stop by, see how you're doing."  He handed her one of the coffees, and also her keys.  "Detective Benson wanted me to give you those."  There was a questioning note in his voice.

"Thanks," said Serena, rather shortly.  She dropped the keys into her purse and took her coffee to the kitchen.  Jack followed, expecting further explanation.  "I can hear the gears turning in your sordid mind, Jack," said Serena with her back to him.

"It's none of my business."  Though if Detective Benson was sleeping with a victim, Jack would be sure to make it his business.  As his assistant had once put it, it was an inherently unequal relationship, not to mention a breach of ethics.

"You're damn right it's none of your business," said Serena as she turned around, though she sounded more amused than angry.  "But for your information, I had a couple of painkillers in my system last night."  She held up her damaged hand; both bushy eyebrows went up.  "Detective Benson came to check up on me.  I fell asleep, she needed to lock the door on her way out.  It's not like I was going to leave the apartment, so she temporarily took my keys.  End of story." 

"I see."

"Jack McCoy, I do not need you hovering around like an overprotective brother," said Serena.

"Who's being overprotective?" said Jack with a hint of his old grin.  He and Serena hadn't had a less-than-professional discussion in a long while.  He was coming to regard her as something of a protégé, and he missed being able to add levity to their conversations, even just to draw out her considerable ire.

"Thanks for the coffee, Jack," said Serena, emphasizing his name pointedly.

"Far be it from me to impose," he responded, and went to the front door.  There he paused and added, "Serena, I'm glad you're all right."

She tilted her head and gave him the first real smile he'd seen since the night in the hospital.  "So am I."

The door burst open and bashed Jack in the head, sending him tumbling to the wooden floor.  His vision seemed to implode, going from color to full blackout in less than a second.  Serena shouted something unintelligible.

"I leave you alone for a few days and this is what I find?" said a distinctly male voice.  Jack shook his head, trying to clear it.  He was already digging in his pocket for his cellphone.  The blurry outline of a male in dark colors hovered over Jack.  It's him.  Jack heard Serena scream for help; he felt something brush his arm and latched onto it tightly.  Brian Pooler shook his leg as if he were trying to get something off of his shoe.  Jack hung on doggedly, clawing at Pooler's leg.  He had to give Serena time to get to a phone, or at least to get away.  Pooler kicked him; Jack let go with a grunt.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Serena dart into the kitchen.  There were hasty ripping sounds and she came back with a large knife.  Pooler reached for something tucked in the waistband of his pants.  There was the familiar click of a hammer being cocked, and Jack found himself staring up at the barrel of a revolver.  The apartment suddenly went from chaotic movement to total stillness.

"Serena, can't we just talk about this?" asked Pooler.  He looked like he was sweating and Jack estimated that it wasn't long before the man's tenuous grip on reality evaporated completely. 

Serena clutched her knife tightly enough to turn her knuckles white.  Then, very slowly, she set it aside.  "Of course, Brian," she said softly.  "Just…point that gun away from Jack."

Pooler looked down at Jack.  "Ah, Mr. McCoy, I'm sorry to have dragged you into all of this, but I'm prone to jealousy.  You understand."

"Mr. Pooler—"

"You know my name!"  Pooler looked delighted.  "Serena, honey, you've been talking about me at work."

"Well, you're an important part of my life," said Serena, fighting to form the words with a suddenly dry mouth.  "I've told a lot of people about you." 

"Like me."  Olivia Benson stood in the doorway, her gun in her hands.  She looked calm, steady, and Jack found himself admiring her poise.  "Put the gun down, Brian."

Pooler gave an exasperated sigh.  "Do you have the NYPD on retainer or something?  I'm beginning to think you like airing out all our private business in the workplace."

"Brian, backup is on the way," said Olivia firmly.  Her gut was telling her this wasn't going to end well.  "Now put down the gun."

Pooler craned his head around to smirk at the detective, but kept his revolver trained on Jack.  "Look, detective, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I am very obviously in control of the situation.  Just back off." 

"Brian," started Serena.  He made a hissing noise to cut her off.

"Brian, Brian," he repeated mockingly.  "For once, I'm gonna talk, okay?  Is that okay with you, Serena?  You gonna hit me again?"  He pointed with one finger to his black eye.  "'Cause let me tell you, physical violence is not going to do anything to iron out the kinks in our relationship."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," said Serena.  "Please, just leave my friends out of this.  We can be adults about this."  She gave him a hopeful smile. 

He seemed to waver; the revolver slowly tilted away from Jack's face.  Then a clattering sound erupted from the hallway and Pooler whirled around, reflexively bringing the revolver up.  Olivia took the shot, firing into Brian's chest twice.  He jerked backward, tripped over Jack's outstretched feet, landed in a broken heap on the floor.  Blood immediately pooled under his body.

Two uniformed officers ran to the open doorway, service weapons drawn.  "We got the radio call for backup," said the lead officer. 

Olivia motioned for him to stay back.  She edged forward, gun trained on Brian Pooler's body.  He was still alive, just barely.  Olivia nudged the revolver away from his limp hand.  "Call for a bus," she told the two officers in the hallway. 

Jack pushed himself up, edged along the wall to stand next to Serena.  Detective Benson turned to both of them.  "Are you all right?" she asked them, a tremor in her voice the only indication of the adrenaline that must be racing through her body.

Serena nodded mutely, one hand covering her mouth.  She couldn't look away from Pooler.  He made wet, sucking sounds as he tried to breathe.  "How did you know?" she asked at last.

"I saw him in the street and doubled back," said Olivia.  She held up a few fingers in front of Jack.  "Mr. McCoy?  Can you tell me how many fingers you see?"

"If I divide by two to account for the double image, then three," said Jack dizzily.  Serena led him to a wooden chair at the kitchen table.

"Get some towels," Olivia said, turning around.  She holstered her weapon, took the handful of washcloths that Serena passed to her, and pressed them to Pooler's chest.  He stared at Olivia with glassy eyes. 

"Serena," he whispered.