Things had reached a rather…delicate…equilibrium as of now.
Jack McCoy was back at the Halfway House, finishing up the last of his term of Community Service, and Claire Kincaid was beginning to feel panic.
What can he do when he's free? When the Community Service is done?
McCoy wouldn't be able to go back to the DA's Office. He wouldn't even be able to set up a shingle and practice in the private sector.
His license to practice Law had long since been revoked, and there was no chance of getting it back.
Besides, Jack was still too fragile, too emotionally disabled…
The stress alone would do him in…
McCoy had expressed in interest in continuing to work at Central Park, at least on a part-time basis.
But where will Jack live when he's no longer required to live at the Halfway House?
The thought of him living alone…isolated…shook Claire Kincaid to her core.
Which was why she was taking Jack out to a late Lunch, early Dinner today.
He had…sort of…accepted that Claire still wanted him in a relationship.
So, hopefully he won't go through the roof when I make my proposition…
"Have you given any thought to where you'll live when your Community Service is done?"
Claire Kincaid kept her tone causal as she sipped her coffee. McCoy shrugged as he looked down at the remains of dinner on his plate.
He had been declared Legally Disabled, and would be able to draw on Disability; and there were still plenty of Rent-Controlled places around.
But most of those places were pestiferous rat-holes, with inadequate locks, security, heating, and, well…everything.
"You know me, Claire," he finally said. "My needs are minimal. Especially now."
"Yes," Kincaid put her coffee cup down. "And I've seen the kind of places you'll be able to afford."
"I have too, Claire." McCoy picked up his coffee. "But I can't afford anything else. Unless you've got a better idea…"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Move in with me, Jack."
McCoy choked on his coffee, was a minute, or two, recollecting his balance.
"Claire..." he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "I don't know what-"
"I don't want you to be alone, Jack!" Kincaid lay a hand over his. "You still have those nightmares, and those headaches, don't you?"
"Yeah…" McCoy sighed. "But it's not fair to-"
"I thought we already had that discussion about me deciding for myself what's fair for me."
Claire squeezed McCoy's hand gently.
"I love you, Jack. Can't you just accept that for what it is?"
McCoy smiled at that, one of those lop-sided grins that made him suddenly so…beautiful.
"I…love you too, Claire," he bowed his head, almost as if loving someone was something to be ashamed of.
"Well," Kincaid smiled back. "It's official. We love each other. We should move in together."
…..
Jack McCoy had to hand it to Claire Kincaid.
She knew how to get what she wanted. The wonder of it all was that she wanted him…
Claire Kincaid was willing to deal with the nightmares, the migraines, and the panic attacks, all of it.
She loves me…
Hard to believe, even harder to accept.
McCoy had been a bit of a tyrant back when he had been Executive ADA, and no one knew that more than his assistant...
Claire Kincaid.
Now, she was the Assistant ADA, now she was the one who prosecuted the toughest cases, under the direction of the current DA, Nora Lewin.
Just as I did under Adam Schiff…
"Wonder what Adam will think of this…"
"I imagine he'd be pleased, Jack," Claire said. "He worries about you too, you know."
There they were, standing just outside the small restaurant, Kincaid's hands on McCoy's shoulders, drawing him in, holding him close, and it felt…good, so good…to have loving arms drawn around him.
The sound of discreet throat-clearing behind caused them both to separate, both blushing like teenagers.
The man standing there wore a suit and tie, and he looked officious…insufferably officious.
"Mr. McCoy?" he asked. "John James McCoy?"
Sudden dread icing his veins, McCoy nodded slowly, trembling taking hold of him.
"I'm Jack McCoy," he couldn't fight the shaking in his voice.
"I'm Federal Agent Ray Evans," the man said, as he produced a legal form. "I am hereby required to take you into custody as a Material Witness in the case of the Murder Trial of Fox William Mulder."
"Murder?" Kincaid spoke sharply. "Who is FBI Agent Mulder supposed to have killed?"
"Agent Fox Mulder stands accused of the murder of Master Sergeant Knowle Rohrer, an employee of the Department of Defense."
"I d-don't know him," McCoy was hugging himself, barely felt Kincaid's arms go around him. "And I barely know Mulder either. I only met him twice…I think…"
"I'm appealing this!" Kincaid spoke firmly. "Jack doesn't have anything to do with this…Sergeant Rohrer, or Fox Mulder!"
…..
Three hours later
Dr. Emil Skoda had received an urgent call of Claire Kincaid, instructing him to come immediately to Hogan Place; Nora Lewin's office in particular.
Nora Lewin was there, Claire Kincaid, Detective Mike Logan, and a man he didn't know, who introduced himself as Federal Agent Ray Evans. But Emil only had eyes for Jack McCoy.
He was as white as a sheet, pallid with sheer terror, hugging himself, head bowed, rocking slightly as he sat on the couch.
"Jack?" Skoda sat next to him, laid a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder.
"They w-want me t-to testify…" McCoy stammered
"Testify? To what?"
"Apparently ex-FBI Agent Fox William Mulder killed a DoD employee," Nora Lewin spoke up. "And someone got it into their heads that Jack McCoy is some kind of witness, although I'm hard pressed to figure out how. Jack McCoy has been living, and working here, in Manhattan, all this time."
"Be that as it may," Evens held out the form. "Mr. McCoy is required to come before the Judges and give testimony."
Lewin accepted the form, looked it over as Skoda got to his feet.
"I'm Jack's psychiatrist," he said. "He suffers from PTSD, and an underlying psychosis. This could very easily provoke a serious relapse."
"Is he legally insane?" Evans asked.
"Well…" Skoda frowned. "No…but-"
"If he's not legally insane, then there is no bar," Evans was implacable. "This is a Military Trial, and different rules apply."
"Nora-"There was panic in Kincaid's voice.
Lewin sighed.
"I'm sorry," she laid the paper on her desk. "There's nothing I can do to stop this."
Then, she looked at Evans, sudden steel in her gaze.
"But there is no law that limits the number of people who can go with him."
"Jack gets to have his very own posse?" Mike Logan finally spoke.
"I'll call Adam," Lewin picked up her phone. "Who else wants to come along and support Jack in his hour of need?"
"I'm going to call John Munch," Skoda drew out his cell phone.
"Munch?" Kincaid exclaimed as Logan rolled his eyes.
"Yeah…" Logan shook his head. "He's almost as bad as Mulder was with his Little Green Men."
"John Munch is a friend," Skoda started dialing. "An ally. And we need as many of those as we can get."
