A Broken Hallelujah

Part Eight

---

"How are you?" he asked the old man, who wore a sour expression on his face.

"We need to talk. In my office." He walked out and Jack obediently followed, slightly puzzled. "Close the door," he said, "then sit down."

Confused, Jack did as he was told. When he was seated in front of Adam's desk, he fiddled with his thumbs as the old man stared out the window.

Then Adam cleared his throat and swiveled to face his executive ADA. "I have to ask a question, and I expect an honest answer."

"Of course." Jack loosely gripped the chair's arms.

"Actually, it's a series of questions." He picked up a pen and tapped a fresh legal pad on his desk. "I assume you weren't a monk the past five years."

Jack frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You slept with other women once you got over the shock of Ms. Kincaid's 'death.'" Adam's eyes bored into his.

"No," Jack said, "I didn't. I didn't have the interest." He blushed a little. "If I felt, uh, urges, I used my hand. I didn't want, wasn't ready, for the real thing."

Adam made a notation of sorts on his legal pad. "I assume that's been rectified?"

Jack's blush deepened and he looked away for a second. "If you're asking if I've slept with Claire, yes, a few times."

"But no one else?"

"No. Adam, what the hell is this about? Since when are you interested in the behavior of my penis?"

Adam snorted. "You of all people have to ask that?" He wrote a number on his pad. "You didn't do it with Abbie Carmichael?"

"Abbie? God, no. Why?" He leaned forward, dangling his hands between his knees.

"Ms. Carmichael tells a different story. She says you seduced her shortly before Claire was resurrected from the dead."

"That's bullshit, Adam. I knew she had a thing for me, but I kept my distance."

"Really? Witnesses say you were out with her in a bar just a day or so before you were shot."

Jack dimly recalled that night. "Well yeah, I met her and some of the attorneys for a drink. I didn't stay long."

"And the attorneys say she left like two minutes after you. She says she went to your apartment, that you were drunk and being maudlin about Claire. She tried to comfort you and it turned into something else."

"Absolutely not. I went home. Yes, I got drunk, but I was alone, with my memories. As I recall, I couldn't make it to work the next day."

Adam jotted notes on that damned pad, then looked hard at Jack. "And Ms. Carmichael called in sick that day, too. She says she spent the morning with you, carrying on where you left off earlier."

Jack shook his head. "I don't understand. Even if it happened, and it didn't, what difference does it make?"

Adam frowned. "The difference is Ms. Carmichael is pregnant and naming you as the father."

Jack went white. "Adam. It didn't happen. If she's pregnant, it's not mine. DNA will prove that."

"Yes, when the baby's born, but right now, she's making accusations to the wrong people."

Jack thought he was going to throw up. "Claire," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you see? It's payback for Claire, for me not kicking her out. For loving her." Helplessness was written on his craggy face.

"Whatever it is, she's complaining - you had your way with her, then fired her when your old flame showed up, leaving her pregnant and unemployed. The mayor is not amused, he wants to know what kind of cathouse I'm running over here."

"It's easy enough to disprove," Jack said.

"In what, seven months time? In the meantime, she's suing you and this office, for sexual harassment, for violation of the supervisor-subordinate rule, for all I know for you having a short penis." He threw the pen on the pad. "You're in major trouble. She's even gone to the press." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a copy of the Post. The headline read "ADA v ADA, as DA plays musical beds."

Jack was silent as he reached for the tabloid. The story claimed that Jack took advantage of young Abbie, only to throw her out as soon as Claire returned from the dead. He was painted as a horny, heartless son of a bitch, firing a young woman he knocked up for an old flame he was keeping in his apartment. He tossed the paper on Adam's desk. "Pure bullshit and you know it."

"Do I?" He didn't sound like Adam. "You have quite the reputation, why shouldn't I believe you didn't get around to putting it to Abbie?"

"Because of Claire."

"Whom we all thought was dead."

"Time will prove my innocence."

"We don't have time. The mayor is demanding I suspend you at the very least, the ethics committee is screaming for your appearance, and you're not going to believe who's representing Abbie."

Jack thought his head would explode. "I think you better tell me." The possibilities were endless.

"Donnelly."

"Liz? Liz believes this crap?"

"Abbie is very convincing."

"Mother of God," he croaked. "I never touched her, not sexually."

"She says you have a mark on your penis," Adam dryly said.

Jack's mind raced. "OK, OK, I think she dressed me one morning when I was so hungover I barely made it into work. Got me in the shower, that sort of thing." A sick feeling hit him like a baseball bat in the stomach. "Please tell me SVU is not involved in this."

Adam snorted. "A superior using his position and power to force a subordinate into having sex? What do you think?"

"She's calling it rape?" His voice barely worked.

"More or less. That she couldn't say no out of fear for her job."

"Christ." He stood and walked to the window.

"Go home, Jack," Adam said, joining him at the window. "People will be coming around to interview you, interview Claire."

"Claire? What does she have to do with it?"

"Pillow talk, for one. And there is the little problem of her 'death.' Abbie is claiming that was your excuse for wanting her in your bed, to 'help' you forget."

Jack was pale. "Mother of God."

"Get a lawyer, a good one. I suggest Danielle Melnick, if Abbie hasn't gotten to her yet. Or Shelly Kates. But do it now, but not from this office. Go home. I'll be in touch with you later."

He numbly obeyed, leaving Adam's office for his own. He changed back into his jeans, grabbed his helmet, and left as quickly as possible. As he rode home, he wondered how to tell Claire.

He didn't have to. He walked into his apartment to find detectives from SVU sitting on his furniture, talking to Claire. Her expression, when she saw Jack, was stricken. He recognized the detectives, Benson and Stabler, the best in that squad. He put his helmet in the closet, then sat next to Claire, on the couch, reaching for her Diet Coke. Then he looked at the detectives. "What are you doing here, why are you talking to Claire?"

Olivia Benson tried a smile. "We're asking for information."

"You can get the hell out of here. Leave her alone. This whole thing is crap, and you ought to know that."

Olivia continued to stare at him. "Abbie Carmichael is pregnant, Jack, no question about it. And she swears it's yours. And she refuses amniocentesis, says she won't risk the baby's health."

Jack closed his eyes. "Just get out," he said, struggling for control.

Benson and Stabler stood. Liv gave Claire her business card. "Call if you need anything, remember anything."

When they were gone, Jack turned to Claire. "You don't believe it."

She put her hand on his knee. "No, not a word of it." Her head leaned against his. "But this is a major clusterfuck."

He pulled her into his arms. "We'll get through it, in the end it will be proved the lie it is."

"But in the meantime, your reputation, your career, is torpedoed."

"God, that reminds me." He moved away from her and reached for the phone. He dialed. It was picked up on the second ring. "Danielle, it's Jack McCoy. I need you." He pulled on his ear, a gesture Claire remembered. "You will? Thank you. Yes, we'll be here. Thank you." He hung up and pulled Claire into his arms again. "Danielle Melnick is coming over."

"I should get dressed," she said. She got up, leaving his arms empty. He didn't know what to do. When she came back, she was in jeans and one of his oxfords with buttoned collar points. She sat and took his hand, interlacing their fingers. "We should have seen this coming, or something like it," she said, rubbing his thumb with hers.

He had no idea how long they sat like that before a sharp rapping on the door brought them back to the present. Jack got up and opened it. The tiny dynamo with the brain of a genius barreled into the apartment.

"Hello, Claire," she said, as if it had been but yesterday when they last saw each other. Jack closed the door and stood helplessly in the middle of the room. Danielle turned toward him. "Perhaps something to drink, Jack?"

As he went to the kitchen, Danielle sat beside Claire, staring into her eyes. "What do you think?"

"I think it's crap," Claire whispered.

"Why?" She glanced up as Jack returned with three Diet Cokes. She took hers, popped the top, and focused on Claire.

"Because he said there wasn't anyone else."

Danielle nodded. "And you believe that because?"

Claire's brain felt like it was in a blender on high. "Not me," she said, and she struggled just to open the drink can. Jack gently took it from her and opened it. "Me, he loved me, cheats he does not." Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and Jack eased between her rigid body and the arm of the couch, holding her.

"Can't you see what's happened to her?"

Danielle lightly touched Claire's knee. "Yes, and I'm sorry, but there are going to be lots of tougher questions for Claire." Her eyes were kind. "I have to take her through it, before Donnelly can kneecap her on the stand."

"There's no reason for her to testify," Jack said.

Danielle raised her eyebrows. "No? What about her 'death'? Don't you think that's going to affect her credibility with the jury?"

"If anything, it proves she knows nothing of any of this. Danielle, I did not sleep with Abbie Carmichael, I didn't sleep with anyone." His hand rested lightly on Claire's shoulder as he sipped his drink.

"You know about proving a negative," she responded. "What I understand, and I haven't gotten discovery, obviously, is that Abbie is claiming you forced her to have sex through manipulation and fear."

"I know." He sighed. "And it's a damned lie. Can't we get a court order for amnio?"

"No, and you should know that. Once the child is born, we can get one for DNA, but by then, it's too late. Your career is already in shambles."

"I'll fight like hell, Danielle."

A tight smile appeared. "Yes, we will," she said, underscoring the 'we.' She looked at Claire. "I think we can convince any judge that you have no knowledge and that putting you on the stand would be too much for you physically and emotionally." Then she looked at Jack. "But your past is going to come back and bite you on the ass, my friend."

They spent several hours going over that past, dwelling on the past five years in particular. Claire heard, in terrible detail, of the damage she'd inflicted on the man she loved, and then she told of her own traumas, of her ignorance of Jack's life until the day she walked into the hospital.

"But you knew him," Danielle said, "So, in your opinion, would he have slept with Abbie once he adjusted to your loss?"

Claire shook her head. "I can't answer that," she slowly said, refusing to yield to the jumble in her mind. "I know he loved me. I know no more."

Danielle flipped the used pages of her legal pad over and put it in her briefcase. The clicking latches sounded like hammer blows. "Enough for now. I'll get together with Liz, see what cards she's holding. Do I have to warn you to keep a low profile?" She looked at Jack.

"No," he said, and the misery in his voice touched Claire's heart. She took his hand.

"I'll be in touch after I've talked to Donnelly." She stood, holding her briefcase. "Be good to each other," she said, "because right now you're all each other has. This is going to get ugly before it gets better."

Jack stood and walked Danielle to the door. "Thank you," he said.

"Jack." She smiled. "You know I'd do anything for you." She left the apartment, and Jack locked the door after her.

He returned to the couch and stretched out, holding Claire, wanting to cling tightly but worried about injuring her or himself. He kissed the top of her head, smelling her shampoo. "Could this get any more fucked up?" he whispered.

She raised her head. "Yes, so don't say that. Let's deal with one thing at a time. Like us. Are we truly together, or just rolling with memories of what we had?"

He stroked her face. "Speaking for myself, we're together."

"Me, too. We've taken on the world before, we can do it again." She looked at him in a way he hadn't seen in a long time, except in his dreams. He eased her up and kissed her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and then he pushed her up, sitting slowly, then taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom.

They undressed slowly and slid between the sheets. Though they'd made love a few times in the weeks since she'd been back, it hadn't been what it once was. The consuming lust they both knew was missing, but it was back now. He took her, forcefully, and she responded in kind.

When it ended, he rolled off her onto his back, feeling his wound ache and hoping he hadn't hurt her. She propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. He brushed her long hair away from her face, tucking strands behind her ear, and smiled. "You OK?" he asked.

She grinned. "Mentally, better than OK." Then she got up, the old grace he'd known gone, and left the bedroom. She returned with a couple of drinks and medicine bottles. Jack rarely felt the need for pain medicine now, but knew she could not live without it. She sat on the bed, opened each drink, gave him one, then opened her pill bottle. She shook a couple into her hand, popped them into her mouth, and chased them with Diet Coke. "Need one?" she asked, offering his Percocet bottle.

"Probably not a bad idea," he said, taking it. Then they piled up the pillows and lay together, on their backs, Jack's arm around Claire. The silence was comfortable, and then Jack said, "Want to order Chinese?"

Claire laughed, the old raucous laugh he knew so well. He looked at her, wondering how long it had been since she'd laughed like that, and she looked at him. "Sure, Chinese would be great."

IX

To no one's great surprise, SVU pushed the matter as a criminal offense. Danielle kept filing motions, insisting no case existed until the child was born and paternity determined, but Donnelly counter-argued that the sex-fueled firing was, in its essence, a rape offense. When they finally arrived in court, Abbie was visibly pregnant.

She glared at Jack as he walked into the courtroom, Claire by his side. He ignored Abbie, his head bent as he spoke to Claire, then they met Danielle, huddling together near the defense table. Liz Donnelly nudged Abbie.

"Focus," she hissed, "don't stare at him. Judge March is not an idiot, she watches for nuances, real or imagined."

Abbie nodded, then sat in the chair behind Liz's, in the gallery. She picked up a pencil and poised it over a new legal pad, working to control her rage at Claire Kincaid and at Jack McCoy, for dumping her and leaping into Claire's arms. She watched Liz settle in, heard papers shuffle, but she was focused on the image of Jack and Claire in the sack, naked and intertwined in sleep. She felt no guilt over her actions. Jack wrecked her life and now she would crush his.

After preliminaries, Liz stood to make her opening statement. Tall, slender, beautifully dressed, Elizabeth Donnelly was attractive and powerful, but not unsympathetic. She smiled at the jurors. "Good morning. This is an unusual case, in that it's not the forcible rape this office usually prosecutes, but it's rape nonetheless. A powerful man, attractive and seductive, supposedly still grieving the loss of his lover, takes notice of his very young and beautiful assistant, and one night gives her a choice, sleep with me or find work elsewhere. The young lady, afraid of refusing and thus finding herself out of work, felt she had no choice. She also felt, had for some time, deep sympathy for this wounded man, grieving the death of his lover, his soul mate, his former assistant. She was trapped, and not being from New York, had few resources to fall back on, so she gave in and slept with this man, the man who sits at the defense table instead of standing where I am, Jack McCoy. The Executive ADA for major felonies, one of the most powerful men in New York legal circles." She turned and looked at Jack.

"And then Mr. McCoy is shot and critically wounded, and wonder of wonders, we witness the resurrection. His lover, whom everyone thought was dead, was not, and came out of the mist to be by his side. Did he reject her, angry over her terrible deception, over the pain she'd caused so many? No. He moved her into his apartment while he was in the hospital, and she spent every possible minute with him at the hospital. When he was released, they set up housekeeping, and when Ms. Carmichael, the victim of his sexual power play, tried to talk to him, he fired her on the spot. He didn't want to hear about the child they conceived, in fact he denied sleeping with her. He claimed he hadn't slept with anyone since Claire Kincaid's death five years before." She shook her head as she looked at the jury. "I will be calling Ms. Carmichael to the stand first, then witnesses to support her testimony, and you will see and hear for yourselves what this man did to her. Thank you."

Jack looked at Danielle, then leaned over to whisper "Just like Liz. Short, to the point, and right for the jugular." He turned to look at Claire, sitting behind him in a dark suit. She'd drugged herself just before entering court, but he wondered how long she could sit in that chair before the pain set in. She smiled at him, and he nodded, turning back to watch the tiny dynamo approach the jury box.

"A tale of a spurned woman. As old as mankind itself," Danielle began. "The truth of the matter is that Ms. Carmichael had deep feelings for her boss, Mr. McCoy, which he did not return. It's true, he was still grieving the loss of his beloved Claire even after all these years. It's true he did not sleep with anyone during that time. And it's true that Ms. Kincaid did fake her own death, but came back as soon as she heard of Mr. McCoy's nearly mortal wounding at the hands of a recently released prisoner he'd prosecuted. Ms. Carmichael was so jealous that Mr. McCoy's psychiatrist banned her from visiting his hospital room.

"You're going to hear how difficult it was for Mr. McCoy to cope with his loss, how he sometimes drank too much, and so gave Ms. Carmichael a key to his apartment to ensure he got up and to work on time, if he didn't answer the phone, their prearranged signal. He trusted her, as a friend and as a subordinate, but never did he feel the slightest romantic feeling for her. And she abused that trust after Ms. Kincaid returned, using her key to enter his apartment a day or two after Mr. McCoy came home from the hospital and found the two of them sleeping in his bed. Yes, they were naked, they'd been lovers for a long time, and separated for a long time. Instead of gracefully slipping out - after all, Mr. McCoy did not have to work, he was on medical leave - she woke them, screaming at them, calling Ms. Kincaid a whore. It was that action that resulted in her termination from the DA's office, that and that alone. Jack McCoy never had sexual intercourse with Abbie Carmichael, and her jealousy over his relations with his beloved Claire is what is driving this alleged case. When it's over and you've rendered a not guilty verdict, I hope the DA's office will do the proper thing and charge her for filing false charges. Thank you."

Claire met Danielle's eyes as she stood to leave. She was on Danielle's witness list and could not listen to testimony until she'd given hers. She looked down at Jack and whispered "I'll be outside." He nodded. When Claire was out of the courtroom, Liz Donnelly called Abbie to the stand.

Sworn in and ready, a Kleenex in her fist, she faced the sympathetic face of Elizabeth Donnelly. Her swollen abdomen spoke clearly of her condition, and she ran her fingers lightly over the baby to underline the point.

"Ms. Carmichael, when did you meet Mr. McCoy?"

"When I was appointed to fill Jamie Ross's position, two years ago."

"And before that?"

"I worked in narcotics, prosecuting drug dealers."

"And what kind of performance reports did you get from your supervisor?"

"All excellent, which is why she recommended me to Adam Schiff to take over Ms. Ross's job."

"And what was your initial impression of Mr. McCoy?"

Abbie looked at Jack, then back at Liz. "He was friendly enough, but there was an air of sadness about him. I'd heard stories that his girlfriend was killed by a drunk driver some years ago, but he seemed to have recovered, was on top of his game as a prosecutor. He seemed to enjoy teaching me the ins and outs of prosecuting major felonies, which I greatly appreciated."

"Did you socialize outside of the office?"

"Not at first. We didn't go out for several months, and then one night, after we'd won a difficult case, he invited me out for a drink."

"And then?"

"We began going out several nights a week." She wove a tale of quiet dinners, an occasional movie, and how he then told her about Claire, asked her to do for him what Jamie did, which was call his apartment and make sure he got up and got to work. It was then that she realized how much he drank and how difficult his hangovers were. She cared about him, she was glad to do it, she understood he'd never gotten over losing the love of his life. She spoke of how his air of sadness touched her heart, how she wanted to help him, how much she admired him, as a man and as an attorney. Then Liz homed in on the night when he allegedly forced her to have sex with him.

"It was the anniversary of Claire's death," she said, "and I invited him out for drinks with some of the other attorneys. He came with me, but he seemed so sad, and he didn't stay long. He suggested we get out of there, the bar I mean, and go back to his place. We took a taxi, and once inside, he really began to pound the scotch. He put music on, we sat on his couch, and he sat next to me, his arm around me. He told me how much I meant to him. Then he kissed me. It scared me, I didn't think it was appropriate, after all, there are rules that bar relationships between supervisors and subordinates. When I protested, he kissed me again, and said he wanted me, and if I wanted to keep working in the DA's office, I'd want to sleep with him." She dabbed at her eyes with the Kleenex. "He kissed me again and began unbuttoning my blouse. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want to lose my job, and I didn't doubt that he meant it, that he'd find an excuse to fire me if I didn't go along. So I did." She rubbed her bulging stomach. "He was so determined, it happened right there on the couch. I didn't know until it was over that he didn't use a condom. He told me not to worry about it, if anything happened, he'd take care of me." She sighed. "I got dressed and left as quickly as I could, while he sat there, pouring another drink."

"And then he was shot a couple of days later?"

"Yes. We all thought he'd die."

"And then what happened?"

She swallowed. "The office was stunned, all everyone talked about was that Claire Kincaid wasn't dead after all, she was in New York and at Jack's bedside."

---