"Their One-Man Jury"
A Law & Order Fanfiction
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler

Four Assistant District Attorneys wandered into a bar together and, disregarding all bad three-line jokes with obvious punch lines that could have come of such a meeting, settled onto bar stools, one after another.

"So, here's the way I see it," Jack McCoy offered as they finished ordering their drinks, pulling an unfamiliar billfold from his pocket. He flipped it open on the bar, revealing nothing within other than two greenbacks: one worth 20, and the other worth a cool 10. "We should take it to the lost and found at the courthouse and see if anyone claims it. If no one does, then we can split the money evenly."

Casey Novak rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked, Jack," she pointed out with a flip of her hair, "you can't split 30 four ways. And that's why I should keep it." She reached for the wallet, retracting only when Tracey Kibre – seated between the tall homicide ADA and the presumptuous redhead – smacked her hand lightly.

"Need I remind you, counselor, that possession is nine tenths of the law?" Ron Carver smirked as special victim's ADA crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed. "I was, originally, the one who picked it up. And until Jack snatched it out of my hands – "

"I did not snatch," Jack stressed, "but rather, repossessed goods not belonging to you."

" – it was in my possession." The drinks arrived, and he swigged his Miller straight from the bottle. "If the money belongs to any of us, it's me."

"Oh, please." Tracey snorted and reached for her double vodka on the rocks. "You're the one who was going to pilfer it for yourself, anyway. If I hadn't have spotted you, you'd have kept it." The Major Case ADA glanced quickly away, and the dark-haired attorney tossed her head. "I detect a guilty conscience, now don't I?"

Casey stifled a fairly haughty chuckle. "Oh, because you weren't going to split it with him, fifty-fifty?" she questioned coyly, leaning forward on the bar. Kibre adverted her eyes, looking off in the exact opposite direction as the recently-spurned Carver. "That's what I thought." She sipped her white wine spritzer gingerly. "If Jack and I hadn't shown up, you would have gotten away with robbery."

"You want to keep the money, Casey," Jack pointed out. His scotch glass thumped loudly on the wooden bar. "If their wanting the money is robbery, you're just as guilty."

"You're too much of a do-gooder, McCoy," Tracey accused, pointing a long finger at him. "Always fixated on doing the right thing. You're a lawyer. Try to be underhanded for once."

"And you wonder why our profession has such a bad name," Carver muttered irritably.

Casey turned on him immediately, slamming her glass onto the bar. "This from Major Case's butt-boy!" she shot, glowering. "Maybe our profession has a bad name because you're too busy sucking up to the detectives over there, eh? I've heard rumor that Goren can do pretty much anything under the sun and get away with it just because you're fond of him!"

Ron sputtered, choking on his beer. "I am not!"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Ron," Tracey added in, leaning back so she, too, could glower at the still-coughing ADA. "You and Goren, Casey and Stabler, Jack and Green… You all have your ridiculous little soft spots. It's a wonder any of your evidence is admissible, with all the stunts your offices pull."

"Stabler?" Casey nearly knocked over her drink. "That berserker?"

Carver, regaining whatever composure he'd had before trying to literally inhale his beer, lowered his eyes behind his glasses. "The only reason I haven't thrown Goren in county lockup for one reason or another is that most of Major Case would skin me alive for harming their precious genius."

"And don't even start on me about Green!" Jack announced loudly. "Because believe you me, if I wanted to, I could - "

Tracey held up a hand, cutting off the foaming-at-the-mouth McCoy and calming the restless natives. "Now, counselors, let's consider this rationally," she encouraged, smirking slightly. "We are, after all, Assistant District Attorneys. We believe in the justice system, and in providing defendants with juries of their peers. I say we handle this like attorneys should."

Casey arched an eyebrow. "By prosecuting a case based on animal cruelty and not hard facts?"

The dark-haired woman shot her a look that could have frozen magma at thirty paces. "No," she growled, gritting her teeth, "by bringing an impartial outsider into our proceedings and allowing him or her to pass judgment."

Setting down his beer, Carver leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist. "Sounds reasonable," he decided with a nod.

Jack shrugged. "I don't see why not," he agreed. He gestured to the bar at large. "Are we going to have a full-out jury selection?"

"No reason." Tracey straightened up on her bar stool and raised her arm, waving it above her head. "Sir! Hey, sir!" The bartender glanced up from washing glasses and sent her a strange look. "Sir, can I bother you to settle a dispute between my friends and I?"

The bartender, a burly man in jeans and a flannel shirt, wandered up, wiping his hands on a dirty bar towel. "Sure, lady," he decided after a moment, eyeing the quartet of suit-wearing professionals. "What's wrong?"

"Well, you see, we've happened upon 30, found in an empty wallet outside our place of work," she explained, sliding the billfold towards the bartender. He glanced at the two crisp bills and nodded, his expression slightly confused. "We don't know exactly what to do with it, so we thought we'd present each of our thoughts on the matter and let you decide."

He shrugged noncommittally. "If that's what you want, lady, sure," he agreed.

Jack sighed and shook his head as Tracey gestured to him to start. "I believe we should take it to the lost and found," he explained, the other ADAs watching him, reminding him distinctively of cats waiting to pounce on a rat. "After all, it's not ours, and the owner might miss it."

Setting down her vodka, Kibre smiled. "I think I should split it with the charming gentleman down there," she explained, gesturing towards Carver. The bartender eyed him, and he waved briefly. "We were the two who originally found it. It's only fair."

Casey rolled her eyes for what seemed to be the thousandth time in a single sitting. "I think I should keep the money," she declared, thumping her glass on the bar with a flourish. The other attorneys sent her dubious looks. "What?" she moaned, throwing up her hands. "I'm the youngest of the four of us, and I haven't been at this for very long. Trust me when I say I need all the spare change I can get! The state does not pay well."

"Welcome to my world," muttered McCoy.

The redhead finished; Ron simply sighed. "I found it," he informed the bartender, "and, while I don't intend to be clichéd or sound like a ten-year-old: 'finder's keepers, loser's weepers.'"

Carver's statement, however true or well-meant it may have been, sent Casey back into fury and the bickering broke out again, with Jack vehemently arguing that none of them had the right to whine about money troubles. Tracey allowed the yelling, cursing, and personal attacks to endure for just a few minutes before she pounded the bar with her fists and brought them all back to realty.

Of course, she now had a headache, and massaged her aching temples with a hand. "Okay, look, you've heard our stories," she informed the bartender, glancing up at him through half-hooded eyes. "So, what should we do about the money? The choice is yours."

For a moment, the bartender looked truly thoughtful, glancing from one attorney to another, lips pursed and expression drawn. Then, he shrugged and, before any of the four could protest, pulled the two bills from the wallet and stuffed them in his pocket. "What I see," he declared, "is twenty-two dollars of booze sitting there, and a four-dollar tip for me since I listened to this garbage." He dug into his pocket and pulled out four crumpled singles, handing one to each attorney. "My advice is to stop bickering and find something better to do with your time. You all sound like a bunch of whiny lawyers."

The bartender wandered off, leaving three agape ADAs staring after him.

Tracey, on the other hand, shrugged and pocketed her dollar.

Fin.

Standard Disclaimer: All four Law & Order series belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. I am neither of these things, and I make no money doing this. It's just for fun. Honest.

Author's Notes: Originally a challenge that got out of hand, it's now a cute little comedy fic to commemorate the beginning of "Trial By Jury." Honestly, of the four ADAs, I probably like Tracey the best, but that's besides the point. I get to make fun of all four series in a single bound, and have fun with the characters. And that's what's important.

March 4, 2005
1:10 a.m.