A Broken Hallelujah

Part Four

---

Claire had showered and dressed, and, hair still damp, was working on her first cup of coffee when she heard the rap at the door. It was 8:30. She pushed off the couch and limped to the door, checking the peephole. Her stomach dropped to her knees, but she opened the door and faced Adam Schiff.

"Adam," she whispered. "Come in."

He wore a gray suit under his London Fog overcoat, fedora in hand. He moved slowly, more slowly than Claire remembered. He slipped out of his overcoat and draped it over the nearest chair, tossing his hat on its seat. Then he looked at her, a bewildered expression in his old eyes.

"Would you like coffee?" She felt she should do something, but apprehension kept her rooted to her spot near the door. When he nodded, she walked into the kitchen, limping painfully. Once she'd given him the mug of decent coffee and had resumed her seat at the opposite end of the couch, she grabbed her purse from the floor and dug out her pill bottle. Chasing a couple of pills with coffee, she eased the purse to the floor and faced the man she'd once held in awe. "How are you?" she asked.

He snorted. "Just dandy," he said. "The resurrection has happened right in front of me." He warily sipped coffee, then put the mug aside on the end table. "Why, Claire?"

She sighed. "Big question. Why did I do it, or why did I come back?"

"Both."

She circled her index finger on her thigh, then looked up and held his penetrating gaze. "I was lost. Confused. Scared beyond words. I had no idea how long I'd be helpless and dependent and I knew I'd never be a lawyer again." She worked hard to make the words work, forced them into order and comprehension. "Chaos?" She smiled, a wistful, sad thing that slid beneath Adam's armor. "It was all chaos. Jack and I were at each other's throats over Mickey Scott, he was a symbol for all the things going wrong in our lives. I wanted out, of the law anyway, I was hurt and confused. Then I ran into Lennie, Jack walked out on me before I got there, and then someone ran into me." She absently touched her temple, brushed the scar just above it. "I was a mess, but I guess you know that. Sometimes I was aware of people, other times I seemed to be on another planet." She drank, giving herself a moment to find the words. "Claire Kincaid, ADA, Jack McCoy's lover, Selma's daughter, was gone, that much was clear. I felt the pity every time someone visited. Yeah, I was aware, even though I was in a coma. And I thought, just die, Claire, go away and become whoever you are now. Learn to live again on a smaller, simpler scale. Did you know I had to learn to walk again?"

"No. How could I?" He reached for his mug on the end table.

"Maybe Lennie told you. I came out of the coma at the facility for people like me. Scrambled brains and eggs central." Her smile was humorless. "In that netherworld between the wreck and full consciousness, I'd decided. I was already dead in every way that counted. So I just let go. It was better, everyone could get on with life, and Jack wouldn't cling to me out of guilt instead of love. I learned to walk and talk again, it was a proud day when I could feed myself." The bitterness spilled into her voice. "When I could function independently, I stayed in Vermont. Got a job managing a small hotel in a small town. No one had expectations of this Claire Kincaid, no one felt sorry for her, pitied her. Everyone healed and moved on."

He cleared his throat. "Jack didn't."

"So everyone seems hell-bent on telling me." She finished her coffee, struggled to her feet, and took the empty mug to the kitchen. She came back with a can of Diet Coke. "I thought he would." She looked at him. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused, Adam. I don't know what else to say."

He tugged on his ear. "Skoda says what you did isn't so unusual when there's been serious brain trauma." Seeing her confusion, he amplified. "Dr. Emil Skoda. Our shrink, been with us a couple of years. Olivet left after Jack took her out at the knees in court with a cheap shot. Anyway, he said people like you often want to be dead, the life they wake up to is too foreign, too painful, they can't cope. So they wish they'd died. He said a few act that wish out - they either commit suicide or simply let the world think they're dead and disappear." He wiggled, turning to truly face her. "Is your new life happy?"

She shrugged. "I've learned happiness is an elusive thing, fleeting, more of an illusion than a reality. My life is reasonably content."

"But you're back. In effect, you've killed yourself a second time."

She thought about that. "Skoda?" He nodded. "That's what he says?"

"Yes. By coming back, you've ended your anonymous, content new life."

"I couldn't let Jack die without knowing the truth. Lennie said it didn't look good, that he probably wouldn't survive his wounds." She pinched the fabric of her jeans at the knee. "When Lennie told me he would probably die, I came apart." Tears filled her eyes. "Which is what I mean when I say happiness is an elusive thing, an illusion. I thought I was happy enough, that I'd put all this behind me." She glanced around the apartment. "And all it took was a phone call to prove I hadn't."

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. "And Jack?"

"He's confused, I know what that's like. Heavily medicated."

"It was his idea to have you here?"

She nodded. "I couldn't say no." She sighed. "Ms. Carmichael came to see me, I get the feeling she'd like nothing more than to kick my ass. She has a thing for Jack."

Adam's smile was tired. "Yes, she does, but Jack doesn't return it. You were the vaccine when it came to Jack's assistantitis. He's not the man you slipped away from, and you're not the woman he loved and lost." His hands clapped down on his thighs. "Boy, this is going to be some show."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can say."

"I know." He looked at his watch. "Would you like me to drop you at the hospital? I have to go to work. Face Ms. Carmichael's hormones." He snorted. "On steroids."

Claire got to her feet. "Yes, thank you. And I'm sure you can handle Ms. Carmichael."

"Oh sure, I had my rabies shot this year." He stood, walked to his coat and hat. When she'd put on shoes and her jacket, Adam suddenly hugged her, holding her head against his shoulder for a second. "I'm just glad you're here, Claire. I'm supposed to be angry and unbending, but all I feel is glad. You're alive, how could I be angry about that?"

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She found Jack's keys. "I hope Jack feels the same way."

He winked. "I sent Skoda over to the hospital. I think he worked on a mine clearing unit in a previous life." Responding to her confusion, he said "He's good at sensing buried emotions and defusing them. He's good with Jack in particular."

"Oh." She locked the door and they walked to the elevator. "I'll have to meet him."

--xx--

Claire announced herself to the intensive care unit, then walked to the waiting room for visiting minutes. She was surprised to see a man sprawled in one of the miserable excuses for a chair, his hands folded on his flat stomach and his eyes closed. She moved quietly, taking the chair nearest to the door, but his eyes opened and he straightened up.

"Claire Kincaid?" She nodded, apprehensive. "Emil Skoda." He got up and walked to her, offering his hand. "I just had a long conversation with Jack." He smiled and elaborated. "I am a physician, so I'm not bound by the visitor's rules. Officially, Jack is a patient, I'm sure you remember the rules about department shrinks."

"Yeah." She shook his hand. "How is he?"

"Do you mean is he angry with you?" Emil sat next to her. She nodded. "He's confused more than angry, to be expected, considering he's getting massive doses of morphine. Underneath the confusion are some conflicted feelings. I think he thinks he's supposed to be pissed, but he isn't." He cocked his head and smiled. "Are you some kind of witch?" There was warmth in his voice. "Because a lot of men would be supremely pissed in a situation like this, so I'm assuming you've cast some kind of spell on him."

"Yeah, she's slipped him some kind of love potion." The angry, sarcastic, deep female voice came from the door. Abbie Carmichael stepped into the room and stood before them. She put her hands on her hips. "Meet the witchy woman, Emil."

He stood and put a hand on Abbie's elbow. "Take a breath, Abbie. This isn't your concern, and I can assure you that's Jack's position, too. It's between them."

"So you're butting in just for shits and grins?"

"Adam asked me to check on Jack." Emil's tone was soothing, but his eyes flashed warning signals.

"Ms. Kincaid?" Maggie stuck her head in the doorway. "You may visit. Mr. McCoy is asking for you."

Claire got to her feet, automatically taking the hand Emil extended to assist her. Abbie didn't miss that gesture, but another warning glare from Emil silenced her for the moment. Claire walked out with Maggie, limping, one hand on the small of her back.

Emil Skoda focused on Abbie Carmichael. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to visit my friend, my boss. And what's with you, Emil? Helping her up?" Abbie snorted. "Has she cast a spell on you, too? What is it with that woman, you guys are falling all over yourselves for her. You should see Lennie Briscoe, you'd think she was the second coming of the Magdalene." She snorted again, as if the whole thing was funny. "Maybe that's not too far off when it comes to comparisons."

"If you're inferring she's a whore, you would be well advised to keep that opinion to yourself. You're not funny. You don't know jackshit about brain damage, I do, and that's one damaged woman who's clearly worked hard to overcome her obstacles. This is truly between them. You do not want to push this one, Abbie. Jack will eat you alive if you interfere, if you insult her. I've been talking to people since Adam called me last night, and I am giving you sound professional advice - mind your own business, and be all business when it comes to Jack."

"You think, huh?"

"I do. She pulls the knight in shining armor out of Jack, and if you attack her, he's going to attack you. Want that?"

She looked at the floor. "No. But I don't want him hurt again."

"That's out of your hands, your jurisdiction. Go back to the office before you create a problem."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll call Adam. You're acting like some high school girl who thinks the head cheerleader is trying to steal her boyfriend. You're a professional woman, with serious responsibilities, you'd do well to remember that."

"What is it with that woman?" Abbie's frustration exploded, she wanted to kick something, no, she wanted to kick Claire Kincaid. Right in the ass. "Explain that to me, I really want to know."

He sighed, then guided Abbie into a chair. He sat beside her and looked into her angry eyes. "She projects vulnerability, and it's real, it's one of the first things people mention when I ask them to describe Claire Kincaid. And she's broken, which enhances that vulnerability, and like it or not, offend your feminist sensibilities or not, that makes men protective. If you didn't have romantic feelings for Jack, you'd probably admire the courage it took for her to come here. And you'd respect their privacy, recognize that this is strictly between them. Go to the office, Abbie. Now. I'm going to order, as Jack's psychiatrist, that you not be admitted to his space." He stood. "I will not have you doing a number on him right now. He has more than he can handle as it is."

Abbie stood, glaring at Emil. "Fine. I guess I'm the only one who can see through her. If you guys want to run around, protecting her from the boogieman, knock yourselves out. If anyone needs protection, it's Jack. She wants him back, and she'll manipulate all those feelings until she gets what she wants." She turned and walked out of the waiting room. Emil watched her go, then went back into ICU.

He looked at Jack's curtained cubicle as he walked to the nurses' station. Claire was sitting by the bed, they were holding hands, oblivious to the world around them. He shook his head. God help that man if Abbie was right, but Emil didn't think she was. He stopped beside Maggie and asked for Jack's chart, made a notation banning Abbie Carmichael from visiting, then gave the verbal order to Maggie. With a last look at Jack and Claire Kincaid, he left ICU and went to work.

--xx--

"You slept OK?" Jack asked Claire, when she sat beside his bed.

"Yeah." She reached for his hand. "It was kind of weird at first, but I slept. Did you?"

"Oh yeah." Her hand was warm in his. "I still don't understand."

"I know." Her thumb rubbed against his. "When you're better, I'll try to explain." She glanced at the machines around the head of his bed. Was it her imagination, or were fewer of them in use?

"I'm getting better every hour." His mouth was dry. "Would you -" he looked at the water decanter on his meal table. Claire stood and poured some into a dull yellow cup, then helped him drink, steadying the straw as he sucked. When he'd had enough, she put the cup back and sat again. He wiggled his fingers, and she took his hand again. "Why did you do it?" he asked, softly, gently, as one would ask a child.

"You know it's complicated. It will have to wait until you're well, Jack. I'm here, though, for as long as you want me to be."

He looked at her though medicated eyes, the glazed look somehow arousing, and she felt guilty. "You look like you could use more rest," he said. "Are you in pain, Claire?"

How had she forgotten how easily he read her through her skin, by touching her? She nodded. "My knee was reconstructed, my pelvis was broken, I often have back pain because of that." She sighed. "In my own way, I'm an official junkie these days." She smiled.

"You always did think drugs should be legalized. Now that I'm experiencing them up close and personal, I'm wondering why I ever argued with you about it." He shifted his head and shoulders on the pillow. "Do you need medicine? We can probably get you some."

"I carry it with me, always." There was a sadness in her smile. "Life sentence. Lucky me."

He gently squeezed her hand. "I knew your injuries were severe."

She nodded, of course he did. What was the official line? "We did all we could, but her injuries were too severe…" She brushed her nose with her free hand. "I was broken in a lot of places, yeah, but it was the brain rattle that…" she trailed off. No need to talk of these things, to remind him of the pain he felt when he was lied to, of the pain she felt at engineering the lies. "Let's talk of other things. Tell me about your assistant."

"Abbie? She's competent. Not as good as you were, but she's learning. She's very young, like you were, but she lacks your analytical insights. She shoots from the hip, or so she likes to say about herself. Personally, Adam and I think she's a tad rude, a lot of rough edges we're trying to grind down. A few years of experience, some polishing of her social skills, and she'll be a fine attorney. She's quite a contrast to Jamie Ross."

"My replacement?"

He nodded. "Class act, like you. She was also anti-death penalty, but we avoided arguing over it." Emotion clouded his eyes. "After you, I wasn't going to care enough about any assistant, any issue, to argue. You were gone, and I felt so alone, so empty."

"I'm sorry." She was.

"I would have given you the space you needed," he said.

She believed he believed it, but she knew he wouldn't, couldn't, give her the space, as he put it, to heal. And his pity would have been too much. The loss of dignity had been so painful, and to have Jack see it would have compounded it. I had to wear diapers, she bitterly remembered, and bit her bottom lip. Then she forced a smile. "We'll talk, you know we will, I'll answer every question, but not until you're out of here."

"Then I'll get out of here soon," he said. "Are you OK with staying at my place?"

"Yeah."

"Good." His hand caressed hers, probing her feelings. "You're hurting. Go home, rest. Don't worry about me, I'm well cared for, and I'll rest better knowing you're taking care of yourself. Will you do that for me?"

She nodded. "I'll come back later."

"Only if you're really feeling up to it. I know you'll be safe at my apartment, and if you need anything, I'm sure Lennie will help. Or you could call Jamie, she's a generous woman."

I'm not going there, Claire thought, one assistant was enough, one ass chewing. "I'll be fine." She stood, releasing his hand. "I'll come back this afternoon or early evening." She bent and kissed his forehead. His hand caught her head, and she let him pull her to his lips. As soon as she touched them with hers, she felt a familiar jolt. She pulled away. "I'll see you soon."

Walking away, walking out of the unit, was hard. She didn't expect that, and she fought the tears that threatened to overflow from her eyes, focusing on the floor as she walked away. She didn't look up until she was out of the ICU. Might as well go back to Jack's, she thought, she had no desire to reacquaint herself with the city. She waited for the elevator.

It dinged and she looked up as the doors slid open. A tall, slender brunette stepped out, started past Claire, then stopped. "Claire Kincaid?"

Claire nodded.

"I'm Jamie Ross." She stepped back into the car just before the doors closed. A wry smile and she said "I can imagine what you're thinking, running into me, after meeting Abbie." The car descended and Claire waited. "I was looking for you, guess that's no big surprise. Can we get some coffee?"

"If you're going to chew me out, Ms. Ross, I'm really not up to it."

"No, nothing like that. I promise."

So Claire nodded. Jamie took her to a small restaurant near the hospital. They sat at a table under one of the plate glass windows, and Jamie ordered a cappuccino, Claire a simple black coffee. She still waited, this was Jamie's show, and Claire was too wary of Jack's friends wanting a pound of her flesh to be friendly.

"Didn't go well with Abbie?" Jamie asked, when the coffees were served.

"It was as pleasant as a raging yeast infection."

Jamie smiled. "I can imagine. I told her to leave you alone, but Abbie isn't one to take advice."

"How does she work for Jack?"

"I understand fireworks are a regular occurrence." Jamie sipped her coffee. "I wanted to see you, well, out of curiosity, to be frank, and because I think you're going to have a problem with Abbie."

Claire shrugged. "Well, you've seen me." Her head began to pound, she feared her words would disjoint next, and this very together woman across from her would see what a fucked up piece of wreckage she was. She took her medicine as discretely as possible. "What do you think? That I'm here to carve Jack up again?"

"I was the one to replace you. I saw what he was. If I thought you were going to screw him over, I'd say so, I'd stop you, whatever it took. But." She sipped more coffee. "I see the woman who was the source of the office legend, the woman who broke Jack McCoy's heart, and that woman is broken, too. It couldn't have been easy, making that decision."

"Hardest thing imaginable." Claire drank, hoping the hot liquid would accelerate the dissolution of the pills in her stomach. "All you angry people seem to forget I loved that man. Crazy in love with him. And the thought that he would be there, feeling responsible, smothering me with his guilt when there was no guilt to be had…" she shook her head. "I was helpless for months, Ms. Ross. And I mean that literally." She turned the cup on its saucer. "I had to relearn basic things, my brain had to rewire itself. I still have trouble talking, without a great deal of effort. And Jack would have been there through all of it, and he would have hated me eventually, especially if I didn't make a good recovery. Think about it, would you want Jack changing the diapers you had to wear because you couldn't walk, couldn't sit to use a bedpan? Have him deal with your periods when they resumed after the initial trauma? Feed you? Bathe you? And always there, lurking between us, the arguments that led up to that night, and the horror of that execution…" she stopped, unable to go on, she was going to disgrace herself.

"I understand."

"Do you, really? Claire Kincaid was dead, Ms. Ross, she still is."

"Jamie, please." She smiled warmly at Claire. "I'm not sure I'd agree that Claire Kincaid is still dead. You may not be exactly what you were, but you've made a remarkable recovery, and there's enough Claire that you're here now." She looked out the window at passing foot traffic on the sidewalk. When she again looked at Claire, her eyes were clear and kind. "You are a legend in that office," she said, "I had no idea what I was walking into when I started. No one warned me. My first impression of the great Jack McCoy was as an overrated asshole with a hard-on for drunk drivers. Lennie finally took me aside and explained." She toyed with her cup, turning it on its saucer, propping her chin on her other fist. "I don't say any of this to make you feel bad, or guilty, just to explain where I'm coming from in all this. After Lennie told me, I quietly asked around about you, feeling you must have been something special for Jack to be so devastated. When I heard you were alive, and here, in NY, to be with Jack, I admit I had some pretty strong feelings. I always felt protective of Jack." She shrugged, left her coffee cup alone.

"And now?"

"I think I understand why you did it, how hard it was, how difficult your life is now. I don't think you want to hurt Jack. By the way, I'm dying of curiosity -"

"He's confused but he seems glad to see me," Claire said, quickly, feeling the medicine kick in at last. "You know he asked me to stay in his apartment?"

"I do. Your return from the dead is the talk of the bar association." She caught the waiter's eye and indicated another round. "I'm surprised you haven't 'run into' more people."

Fresh coffees were placed on the table and the empty cups removed. Claire picked hers up and held it with both hands. "I'm sure I will. Although Abbie Carmichael was quite enough, if she's indicative of the general feeling toward me."

"You didn't expect open arms."

"No. I knew that I was going to hurt people by showing up, that it would generate a lot of gossip, but in the end, Jack was more important. I'd convinced myself that our bond was broken, that I was over him at last, I was moving on. I have a piddly little job in Vermont, keep to myself, read a lot." She sipped, then carefully placed the cup back on its saucer, hoping her trembling left hand wasn't noticeable. She put it in her lap. "Anita is angry, Adam's trying to be understanding but he's hurt, Rey is distant." She looked away for a second as a spasm shot through her lower back. "Jack is confused, he wants to talk, we have to talk, I know. I told him it would have to wait until he got out of the hospital. He's heavily drugged, I live on painkillers, it's not a recipe for clear communication."

"Do you want to get back together?" As Claire's eyebrows shot up, she hastily added, "I ask only because of Abbie. Well, not only because of Abbie." She flashed that disarming smile Claire had quickly picked up on. "I care deeply for Jack, I want him to be happy. He used to talk of you sometimes, usually when he was drunk, about how much he missed you, how he'd give anything for a few minutes with you." She sighed. "But Abbie has this thing going in her head, that she's going to somehow win Jack's heart, and I think that girl is Texas mean. So watch your back."

Surprised, Claire said, "You think she'd try to hurt me?"

"Not physically. I think she has a wide vindictive streak, though. And she's loud, literally and metaphorically, she won't keep a discreet silence where you're concerned."

"I'm sure there are lots of people who will be happy to listen to her." She leaned back, trying to ease the pain in her back and pelvis. "Five years is an eternity in legal circles, you know that. I don't know all that many people here now."

"So my question stands, if you don't mind answering."

"Do I want to get back with Jack? I don't know. I don't know that we could overcome what I did, what I put him through, I have no idea if he'd even consider it once he comes out of the morphine haze. I think it's all dreamlike right now, for him. I remember how it was for me. I was in a coma, but I was still somehow aware, I could hear people, I understood what they said. And it seemed like some extended bad dream."

"I hope it works out in a way that's good for both of you. There's been enough pain."

"Thank you, Jamie." A wave of emotion washed over Claire and she looked away, then cleared her throat. "I wish Ms. Carmichael could see it that way."

"Give her time, sooner or later she'll realize her fantasy is just that, fantasy. Are you OK?"

Claire grimaced. "Pain. I should probably get back to Jack's, try to rest. Stress makes it worse."

"I can imagine." She signaled for the check. "I have my car, I'll drive you to Jack's." She put money on the table.

Jamie got Claire back to Jack's apartment, walked with her into the building and up to Jack's. She entered the apartment, reaching for Claire's coat. Claire let her slide it off her arms, hang it, help her to the couch. She opened Claire's purse and got the pills, as Claire asked, then got a can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator. Claire gratefully washed the medicine down, then sighed. Jamie perched on the edge of the couch. "Are you going to be OK alone?"

"Yeah. This is my life." She said it without a shred of self-pity. "I'll get undressed and lie on the couch." She tried to rise and fell back with a sharp "ouch!" Jamie stood and helped her up. She clearly knew the layout of the apartment, as she walked Claire into the bedroom without hesitation and parked her on the side of the bed.

"Where are your other clothes?"

"Second drawer." She unbuttoned her shirt as Jamie got sweatpants and a faded football jersey from the drawer. Claire let her, needed her, help undressing and then getting into the soft, loose clothing she craved. "Thank you for being kind." She moved slowly back to the couch.

"I would hope someone would do the same for me if I needed it," Jamie replied, draping an afghan over Claire's legs as she stretched out. "And it's what Jack would want, expect, me to do." A half-smile appeared. "I always thought of you as Saint Claire, when he'd go off on one of his drunken trips down memory lane. I refused to believe you were half of what he said you were." She tucked the afghan around Claire's legs.

"And now you know you were right." Claire pushed another pillow behind her head.

---