A Broken Hallelujah
Part Seven
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--xx--
Jack returned to bed, gingerly pulling Claire into his arms. He raked her hair with his hands, still unable to get used to its length and luster. "I am so sorry," he whispered.
"Not your fault," she said. She turned on her side and stroked his face, still loving the feel of his stubble. "She's just a young girl in love with her boss. I know the feeling. But giving her a key?"
He blushed. "I've spent a lot of the past five years drunk, and she covered my ass. As Jamie did before her." He ran his hand down her side, over the curve of her hip. "Do you remember when we stole mornings like this?"
She nodded. "Few and far between, as I remember."
"Want me to make coffee?"
She kissed him, not too deeply, she wanted to brush her teeth. "Sure. I'll shower while you work your magic." Her long fingers rested on his jaw. "Last night. Was it OK?"
He smiled. "Yes. I just wish I'd lasted longer, for you. And for me. I dreamed it so many times…"
"Go, make coffee while I shower or we'll never get out of this bed."
He laughed, that was the Claire he remembered. He rolled away and got out of bed, looking down at her. "There was a great song from the sixties," he began.
"Do you believe in magic?" she finished for him. "Right now, I do. But we're insulated from the world right now, except for that woman, so we feel safe. What's it going to be like, out facing people?"
"It's going to be fine. Go, shower." He walked away before he did something that would rip open the new skin over his wounds.
--xx--
Jamie Ross was in Adam's office, at his invitation. "He seems happy, Adam, how long have we wanted him to be happy again? I don't think she's about to leave him again."
"No, I think not," the old man said. "I understand, on some level, why she did it."
"Does that really matter now? She's back, and he's living in a dream. He's happy, and that's all that matters."
Adam frowned. "I wouldn't deny him a moment's happiness. It's Ms. Carmichael who has me worried. That girl wants him for herself."
"Have they slept together?" Jamie wondered.
Adam shrugged. "I have no idea, but I doubt it. What do you think?"
"I doubt it, too, but sometimes Jack got so drunk…"
The rapping on Adam's door interrupted them. "Come in," he snarled.
Abbie walked in. "Jack fired me this morning, Adam. I'll be out by noon."
Adam frowned. "This morning? He's in the office?"
"No." Abbie flushed. "You probably don't know this, but Jamie, and then I, had a key to Jack's apartment, to get him up when he was too hung over to get up himself. I kept calling this morning, to check on him, and when he didn't answer, I went over. I found them, naked and asleep, in bed. There were, uh, problems with that, and he fired me."
"What were you thinking?" Jamie said.
"I was thinking my lover was in trouble, and to be honest, cheating on me. He was. It's been an honor working for you, Adam. I'll be out by noon." She turned and closed the door after her.
"Lover?" Adam muttered.
Jamie sighed. "Only in her head, if I know Jack. God, coming in like that, is she crazy?" She raked her hair with her fingers. "They need to be left alone, although I'm glad they did manage to connect, so to speak." She gathered her coat and briefcase. "Good luck, Adam."
He nodded, and Jamie smiled weakly before walking out. She looked at Carmichael's cubicle, then made up her mind. She walked in, interrupting the hasty packing. Abbie looked at her.
"Why, in the name of God, did you do that?" Jamie asked.
"I told you," Abbie snapped.
"Abbie, I don't believe for a second that you've ever slept with Jack. I do believe that he'd sleep with Claire the second the opportunity presented itself. Leave them alone, let them find their way through this."
"I'm not sure I can do that," Abbie smirked. "If you don't mind, I'm busy."
Jamie shrugged. "Whatever. I wish you the best. And again, leave them alone."
--xx--
They had coffee in bed, as had once been their habit on lazy Sunday mornings. Both were freshly showered but naked, still getting used to each other.
"Touch them, Jack," Claire said, "make them real in your mind. They're very much part of me."
He put his mug on the end table and sat up, letting his fingers lightly caress the scar tissue that marred what had once been a stunning body. He could only imagine the amount of pain each one represented. Then she reached up and touched his bullet wounds. That done, they clung to each other.
A little later, reaching for her coffee, Claire softly said, "You know, we didn't use birth control last night." He sat up and looked at her. She touched his cheek. "I don't think it's going to be an issue. My body isn't quite wired the way it once was."
"I don't mind if it is an issue," he whispered.
"I do," she said, "it's way too soon for something like that. I should have thought of it, but my synapses don't work like they used to." She shrugged. "I'll get a morning after pill."
"You don't have to do that."
She winced, got up and walked into the living room for her medicine, and his. "Morning cocktail," she said, striving for lightness, "welcome to my life."
He took the bottle from her and opened it. "How many do you need?"
"Four." He shook them into her hand. "Another reason for the MAP." She sighed. "You think Liz Rodgers would prescribe one?"
He took her shoulders. "You don't need a prescription now. The law changed."
She swallowed her pills. "Then I better get dressed and go get one."
"I'll go with you." He got up. "We can get breakfast while we're out."
She nodded. They dressed and went out into a beautiful morning. Claire took care of business and then they went to a diner, where she swallowed the pill with orange juice. They ordered breakfast, as they had so many times before. Jack held her hand while they waited for the food to arrive, content in the silence, knowing she would share her thoughts when and if she was ready.
She was ready once breakfast arrived. "You know we can't have an accident like that," she said.
He nodded.
"We have enough problems to work through."
He shook his head. "I don't see them as problems. I understand why you did it. All I can tell you is that I'm happy you're here. We may have problems with others, but they'll be temporary."
"You're awfully sure of that."
"I'll make sure of it," he said. "We're rid of our number one problem, every one else will be piece of cake."
"That girl scares me, Jack."
"Why?"
"She's mean and vindictive, and I've come along and upset her little fantasy." The words came out correctly but the images she wanted to convey were scrambled. She sighed. "My head isn't working, sorry."
"Seems fine to me," he said.
She breathed deeply, then said, "I know what I want to say, but in my head, the images and words are confused. It takes effort to get them out correctly."
He wasn't used to her speaking slowly and carefully, and it was then that he truly realized how broken she was. The scars were the leftovers of physical trauma, but he hadn't given a lot of thought to her brain, what severe injury could do to it. She'd tried to tell him, but he hadn't really listened until now. "So going back to work is definitely out."
She looked at him, with an amused smile. "Most yes." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "See? Sometimes I can't speak a simple sentence."
He took her hand. "No worries. You don't have to work."
They finished eating and went for a walk, absently heading toward Hogan Place, holding hands. She used him instead of a cane for support, and he matched her slower stride. When she realized where they were, she stopped. "I can't," she whispered. "Go in there."
"We don't have to. Although I'd like to make sure Abbie's out. Can you handle that?"
She shook her head. "Stares and whispers. No. Claire Kincaid, ADA, is dead."
Then a familiar figure came out the door and headed toward them. Sally Bell stopped short when she saw them. "My God," she said, "it is true. How are you, Claire?"
Claire's grip on Jack's hand tightened. "I'm OK. You?"
"Well. Busy." She looked at Jack and smiled. "And you, buster, how are you?"
"I'm remarkably well, Sally."
"Good to hear. Hope I'll see you soon." She moved past them, and Jack looked down at Claire.
"Was that so bad?" he asked.
Claire shrugged. "Guess not." She was tiring and the pain returning. "Jack, I need to rest, need my medicine."
He flagged a cab that took them back to his apartment. Claire fed the beast, as she thought of the constant pain, then stretched out on his couch. He sat, easing under her head, then stroked her forehead. She looked up at him.
"So," he began, "tell me about it."
She knew what he meant, and she told him as best she could about brain damage and limitations. She simply was not the woman he'd known and loved, would never be. "I'm not sure you can live with that," she finished.
He smiled. "I can. Throughout all the nightmares, I wanted but one thing, you back for just five minutes, and now you're here and the five minutes are long gone. We'll get through it, Claire. I promise."
--xx--
Abbie cleaned out her cubicle, then went to a bar. She focused on the guy sitting a couple of stools away, in a suit, but with a lost expression on his face. It took two more drinks before they sat next to each other, talking, and then she took him home.
-xx--
Jack took another two weeks before returning to work. They spent the time settling in, trying to get comfortable with each other and the changes time had wrought. They talked a lot. Claire knew despite his protestations, he had some anger to deal with, and he finally opened up a little about it. He told her things he'd never whispered to anyone, of the raw pain and guilt, the terrible guilt that ate away at him. She took it, not seeking escape through rationale, answering his questions honestly. They made love a few times, but it was not the same, not that she'd expected it to be. It would take time to adjust to each other, and even then it might never again be what it was. They spent evenings holding each other on the couch, watching TV, eating popcorn, talking of banal things most of the time.
And then Monday came. Claire was up before Jack, hobbling around his kitchen, making coffee while she heard him get up and stumble into the bathroom. The coffee finished brewing just as the shower cut off, and she got a couple of mugs from the cupboard. When he came into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a dress shirt, she smiled.
"You still ride that bike to work?"
He took his coffee. "Thanks. Yeah, when the weather's nice." He walked to the window and looked down at the street, his version of the Weather Channel. He noted how everyone was dressed, then turned back to her; her hair was tousled and she wore her usual sweatpants and an old football jersey, a mug between her palms. He felt a surge of love, it startled him. Despite his initial shock, then his anger and questions, despite the satisfactory but not the same few rounds of sex, he hadn't felt the love he expected to. She noticed, her eyebrows arching. "Oh, Claire," he whispered, and put his mug on the counter.
She slid into his arms, felt his chin rest on her head as his hand stroked her spine. She put her arms around his waist, slipped her thumbs under his waistband, amazed at how good this felt. It was as close as they'd come to the old days. Then he leaned back and cupped her jaws in his hands, their eyes locked together. "Why do I feel like we're a puzzle?"
She smiled. "Because we're both broken in our own ways and trying to fit the pieces together."
He kissed her, lingering as their tongues played together, then he pulled away and sighed. "I have to get to the office, but why don't you meet me for lunch? You can do it."
She nodded. She'd have to go there at some point, if she wanted to stay in Jack's life. "What time?"
"Let's say noon for now. If something changes, I'll call you." He kissed her forehead. "See you then."
She drank coffee and watched the Today Show, her feet on the coffee table. It felt so normal, and she feared that was an illusion. How would she deal with it if he had a bad day? They'd been more or less on their best behavior during this time, but that couldn't last forever. She sighed, changing the channel to Turner Classic Movies and waited. She was good at waiting.
-xx--
Jack got off the elevator and signed in. As he straightened up and turned toward Adam's office, it hit him. It was too quiet. He glanced around at the cubicles, seeing heads studiously bent over computer keyboards or books, instead of the murmur of conversation or random cackle of laughter as someone cracked a joke. He shrugged it off, it was his first day back in over two months, surely his memory was playing with him. Claire, he thought, your memory constantly and permanently plays with you, how do you deal with it?
He went to his office and stood by his desk for a moment, taking his bearings. It seemed like he'd never left it. Then he changed from his jeans into suit pants and snagged a tie from a hanger. He expertly looped it around his neck and then adjusted the knot. Finally, he reached for the jacket, just as Adam walked in through his private entrance. Jack looked up and smiled.
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