A Broken Hallelujah
Part Two
---
Anita patted her shoulder. "We'll talk later, Claire. Go to Jack." As Claire retreated, back into ICU, she said to Lennie, "Lord, would I love to be a fly on that wall."
--xx--
Jack's eyes were half open when Claire returned to his bedside. He squinted, staring at her, his mouth opening.
"Jack," she whispered, "don't try to talk." She put her hand on his shoulder.
"Am I dead?" he said, his tone like an old man's.
"No."
"But you are."
She tried to smile. "No, I'm not. Not really. The Claire you knew and loved is gone, I'm what's left." She spoke slowly, forcing proper construction of her sentences.
"Claire." His hand moved and she took it. "I don't understand."
She drew a deep breath, then held his hand, which lay lifeless in hers. "I ran, Jack. I couldn't take it anymore. The fighting over things like capital punishment, over who was right and wrong, my mother, all of it. I'd lost myself. And then, when I heard doctors telling Mother I might never recover, I would, I knew, and I would go away. Easiest way was to die to the world. I convinced my parents, the doctors told them not to fight me, I was too fragile. And so I was moved away, upstate, until I recovered enough to live on my own. I know it hurt you. That bothered me, but I was afraid you wouldn't let me go, and I needed to be gone. To relearn myself." She struggled with words, closing her eyes and biting her tongue. "To find me again. Claire Kincaid, ADA, was gone, and I didn't know who was left."
"But you're back."
She stroked his bearded cheek. "You are very ill. I was afraid you would die, believing I was gone. Lennie told me how badly hurt you were, how my loss affected you. I had to see you, tell you that I still love you. Maybe not like I did, but love you, yes."
His hand moved in hers, pulled away. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have let me believe you died, that you died because of me." He frowned. "Lennie knew?" When she nodded, he said "Who else?"
"Just my parents. My doctors. Lennie tried to convince me not to do it. I'm sorry, Jack, I am so sorry I hurt you so much."
Tears filled his eyes. "Hurt doesn't begin to cover it. I was destroyed. Adam was crushed. Van Buren felt like she'd lost a daughter. A lot of people loved you."
"I know. I don't expect forgiveness."
"My God." He closed his eyes. "I don't know what to say."
"Do you want me to go away?"
His eyes opened, and she saw raw pain. "No. Not now. There's too much to say, and I'm in no condition to say it. Where are you staying?"
"With Lennie."
Jack sighed. "That figures." His hand reached for a button and he pressed it. Claire saw a bubble in his IV line. "Morphine," he whispered. "Why don't you go to my place? I never changed it, I couldn't."
Her heart felt like it was breaking as the depths of his pain over her loss became clearer. She felt as if saying no would wound him beyond anything else, so she squeezed his hand and nodded. "I don't have the key," she said.
"They should be in my stuff at the nurses station." He found another button and pressed it, and a large, bony nurse came over. "My keys," he said, "please give them to Claire." She nodded. "We have so much to say."
Claire looked away for a second. "Too much, maybe. I don't know how you can forgive me for what I've done."
"We'll figure all that out. I need to rest. Get Lennie to take you over there." The nurse returned and put a key ring in Claire's hand. "I need to rest, to think. You do, too. Come back in the morning?"
"Yes," she said, and straightened up. "Please believe that part of me still loves you."
She saw acknowledgement in his wounded eyes. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't."
He looked at her and she bent to kiss his forehead, to brush his graying hair away from his forehead. Then she walked out of ICU, and John James McCoy cried.
XXX
Anita was still with Lennie when she returned to the waiting room, the keys to Jack's apartment clutched in her fist. "He wants me to stay at his place," she said. "I couldn't say no."
"He's willing to overlook this?" Anita sounded incredulous.
"No, he didn't say that. Just that talking we must do." That look of anger and frustration crossed her face again. "I know I did a terrible thing, Anita. I broke, or thought I did, a bond between he and I as cleanly as possible."
"And that bond didn't break at all?" Anita's expression was shrewd. "He loved you, Claire Kincaid. He was a broken man. I'm sure Lennie told you that."
"Actually," Lennie said, "I didn't dwell on that too much. There was too much else going on."
"Broken and lost," Anita continued. "He almost had a man sentenced to death for drunk driving - how did Ross put it, 'this one's for Claire Kincaid'? He drank like a fish. He locked himself away, grieved terribly for you, wouldn't let those of us who cared for him help. And now you're back, and I can't imagine what that's doing to him." She looked at Lennie. "You take her where she needs to go. I don't have anything else to say right now, except tread lightly, woman. I'd hate to see that man go down the toilet again. And you." She trained hard eyes on Lennie. "I hold you accountable for a lot of this. I'll see you in the morning, my office, eight-thirty." She gathered her things. "Claire." She turned and walked away, her posture erect and her aura radiating anger.
Claire leaned against Lennie. "I think you better get me out of here, before I see more people who have every reason to hate my ass. Do you remember where Jack lives?"
"I do." He helped her into her coat, waited while she got her purse and mentally set herself for the trek to Jack McCoy's apartment.
Once in Lennie's car and working their way through traffic, she looked at the man who was a father to her in many ways. "You told me Jack was broken up over my death, what really happened?"
Lennie sighed, God he wanted a drink. "He was totally shattered, Claire. He didn't show up for work for days, and when he did, he smelled like a distillery, his clothes were wrinkled, his shaving hit or miss. Adam cut him a lot of slack, grieving as he was, too. And then Adam assigned Jamie Ross as his assistant, hoping she would help pull him out, refocus his energies on his work. While she did to some extent, he still drank way too much, and there was an anger in him that was scary. He went on a crusade against drunk drivers, he pushed the envelope legally in many cases. Adam had to rein him in more than once. He pushed everyone away." He stopped at a light, three blocks from Jack's building. "He didn't date for a couple of years, and then it was never anything serious. And he was very, very angry with me. He blamed me, though he never said so explicitly."
"And Adam?"
Lennie shrugged. "Like a lot of us older guys, he looked on you as a daughter in many ways. He was very worried about Jack. It brought his own mortality home." He looked at her, judging her emotional state. He wasn't surprised to see tears running down her cheeks. "Rey didn't know you well enough to feel more than sorrow for a few weeks. Anita struggled deeply with it, with her pain and sense of loss, she became close to McCoy, sometimes she was the only one he'd let in. They all felt they'd lost something precious. Which they did. And I felt like a dog, knowing the truth." He made a right turn. "My sorrow was real enough. I was responsible for the accident in many ways, and I knew we had lost you, just not the way they did." He parallel parked close to the building she once knew so well. "Time moved on, everyone moved on, you became a distant, sometimes painful memory for everyone but McCoy. He couldn't seem to get past losing you, move forward with life, except for work. He has a new assistant now, Abbie Carmichael. I can imagine she'll want to rip you a new one if she gets her hands on you." He got out of the car and came around to open her door.
"Which deserves me." She groaned. "Shit, this will never stop."
"Time, Claire, it takes a lot of time. You've made remarkable progress." They stopped for the doorman, who was familiar to Claire. "We're going up to Mr. McCoy's," Lennie said.
The doorman frowned, focused on Claire. Then she held his keys out, and he looked from them to her. "You're -" he stopped, his hand outstretched toward the door. "Are you?"
She nodded. Stunned, he opened the door. He knew Lennie was a cop and that they wouldn't be here without Jack McCoy's consent. Claire and Lennie stepped past him into the lobby, and she paused, looking around. Then, shaking off memories, she led the way to the elevators. Silence was the rule until they were inside Jack's apartment. It hadn't changed. It was considerably messier, and she saw a framed picture of herself on the wall near Jack's desk. The grandfather clock chimed the half hour.
"God," she whispered. "Do you think he'll forgive me?"
"I really don't know," Lennie said, gently, taking her elbow and guiding her to the couch. She shied away, memories of making love on that couch filling her mind. Then, under the slight pressure of his hand, she sat and looked around. "He wants you here, that means something, right?"
Her helpless gaze focused on him. "Don't know. He's shocked, hurt, and he's severely wounded. Maybe he just wants me here to know where I am or something."
"Maybe. What do you want, Claire? Why did you come back?"
"You told me he would probably die of his wounds," she said, and then she got up, shedding her coat and then her shoes. She went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A couple of cans of Diet Coke were on a shelf, and she asked Lennie if he wanted one. When he said no, she opened one and returned to the couch, refusing to look into the open bedroom doorway. "When you told me that, I knew I had to come back. He couldn't die without knowing I still love him, if that makes sense."
"It makes as much sense as anything." He jiggled his car keys. "Want me to go get your stuff? I can bring back some dinner and some sodas."
She nodded. "Thanks, that would be good." She sipped her drink. "This new woman, Carmichael?" Lennie nodded. "Is she involved with Jack?"
"Not the way she wants to be. He hasn't had a serious relationship since you. She's not going to be happy for a lot of reasons."
Claire thought. This other woman was meaningless to her, all that mattered was Jack and his recovery, and whatever came from that. She hoped Anita and Adam would find a way to accept her, even if they didn't forgive her, if she chose to try again with Jack. She didn't know if she wanted to try that. All she knew was she must make Jack understand why she did it and that she still cared for him.
Lennie stood. "I'll be back in an hour or so. Will you be all right, here, alone with your memories?"
"I have to be." She looked up at him. "Thank you."
He nodded and left her. She sat for a few minutes, amazed at the feelings that came back, it was as if she'd never left, or perhaps been gone for a few minutes. She got up and walked into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, clothes strewn on the floor, the chair, dresser. It smelt of Jack, of his special male essence, and brought tears to her eyes. She walked to the dresser, to the drawer that had been hers all those years ago. Opening it, expecting emptiness or Jack's clothing, she was surprised to find a pair of her sweatpants, jeans, a long-sleeved tee shirt, some socks and a couple of pairs of underwear. She picked up a red pair, holding them against her cheek. Jack bought them for her, the Christmas before the accident, he loved seeing her in red panties. Suddenly so tired she didn't know if she could stand, she pulled the sweatpants and a tee shirt out of the drawer, closed it with her knee, and changed into them, including the red panties.
She went back to the living room and began putting things away. It kept her busy until she heard Lennie's tapping on the door. Checking through the peephole, she stepped back and admitted him. He carried her suitcase, had changed out of his suit into slacks and a sweater. He put the suitcase down beside the door.
"It's begun," he said. "Carmichael's heard, and she's hunting you. Adam wants to see you."
"Did you tell them where I am?"
"I told Adam. He said he'd be by tomorrow, when he was more in control of his feelings. I'm avoiding Carmichael."
Claire sensed he wanted to leave, that he carried a heavier burden than she'd thought. She put her hand on his shoulder. "I owe you so much."
"We can talk about the bill another time." His smile was weak. "You need to rest, Claire." He glanced around. "Order once more, that much hasn't changed." He still held the grocery bag and she took it. "Some microwave stuff, some Diet Coke." When she rubbed her head, he asked, "Another one?"
She nodded. "Familiar company. Thank you."
"I'll see you tomorrow. Shall I take you to the hospital?"
"I'll take a cab." She opened the door and watched him walk to the elevators, then closed and locked the door. She put the food away, stored the cold sodas in the refrigerator, then went to her purse for Percocet. And then she tried to relax.
IV
Abbie Carmichael pushed, as only Abbie could, and was admitted to Jack's cubicle in ICU. He was awake, staring at the ceiling, the machines around him beeping regularly. He looked much better, which surprised and frightened her. He looked at her when she stood by his bed.
"Abbie," he said, his voice still not back to normal.
"I hear you've had company. From beyond the grave." She put her purse and coat in the visitor's chair. "What the hell is going on, Jack?"
He shrugged a shoulder. "My Claire," he said, "my sweet Claire."
"You have to be kidding me. This woman lets you believe she's dead, and now suddenly she waltzes in, to rescue you from your deathbed, and it's all just fine with you?"
He frowned. "I don't know what it is. Not now. She's damaged, I can see that much. How much Claire remains is an open question, but I think a lot does." His frown melted away. "I'm shocked, but I'm glad. Try to understand that much. The woman I loved is not dead."
"No, she just made sure you thought she was and left you without a second thought, you and these others who knew her. That doesn't sound like a sweet person to me, Jack McCoy. It sounds like a deranged woman."
"Damaged. The wreck did a number on her brain."
"And you're just going to let her back into your life, like she's been in Italy all these years?"
One of his machines beeped faster. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm going to listen to her, talk to her." He looked at the nurse, then back at Abbie. "I have her somewhere safe right now, and we have time to talk."
---