IV: The Confession

Ben had to get it off his chest.

He hadn't told the priest about Claire; to him, it wasn't a sin. And he wasn't sure whether he should confide in Adam, but didn't see where he had much choice. There was no one else to whom Ben could turn; Adam was like a father to him.

He knocked on the door before stepping inside, quietly closing it behind him. "You were right," he said before the older man could get in a word. "I'm in love with Claire."

Adam was silent, his expression unchanged.

"You look unsurprised."

"That's because I always knew."

Ben swallowed hard. "You knew? I was that transparent?"

Adam smiled slightly. "Not transparent, my boy – I just happen to know you better than anyone. And besides, the girl is beautiful. If you weren't in love with her, I'd think there was something wrong with you."

"Well, I blew it," Ben said, sitting down on one of the leather chairs. "She came to my office yesterday. We were talking about Thayer, and she let me know that she was interested in me. But I was like a deer caught in the headlights. I pushed her away."

"Because of Erica," Adam concluded.

Ben nodded hesitantly. "I know that it was a long time ago, but it –"

"Tore you up. You don't have to tell me that, Ben. I was there, remember?"

"And I thought it would be best if I stayed away from office romances."

"That's all fine and good, but have you looked at yourself lately?" Adam said. "You're chained to this job day in and day out, and humans – no, you – need more than that."

"Wait a minute. You're suggesting that I pursue a relationship with Claire?"

"I'm not suggesting anything." Adam shuffled some papers on his desk. "What you do in your private life is your own business. I just want you to be happy."

"But you're the one who's always complaining about Jack McCoy."

"I don't think you're about to romance every lawyer in a skirt. Look, you just said yourself that you're in love with Miss Kincaid, and that she reciprocated those feelings. From where I sit, that's a good thing."

"And it's moot," Ben said sadly. "She resigned, and I don't think she'll be back."

"You have her phone number, don't you?" Adam asked.

"Yes, but –"

"Call her."

"I can't do that, Adam," Ben said, burying his face in his hands.

"Just how badly do you want this girl?" Adam demanded.

Ben gripped the leather armrests. "As badly as I've ever wanted anything in my entire life," he admitted.

"Then you're going to have to bite the bullet."

"And you don't have a problem with this?"

"Why would I?" Adam said. "Miss Kincaid no longer works here. And even if she did, I trust that you would keep your private lives out of this office."

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In the dim light of his office, Ben was trying to distract himself with work. So far, he wasn't succeeding; thoughts of Claire intervened, taking his attention from the stack of files on his desk. His eyes also kept wandering toward the phone.

Call her, Adam had said. Easier said than done; it wasn't Adam's heart on the line.

Finally, Ben picked up his address book. He found Claire's number easily, taking several deep breaths before dialing. As it rang, he fought with himself to avoid hanging up.

You've reached 212-555-3789. I can't take your call right now, but please leave a message at the tone. Thank you.

Ben could either talk to the machine or call back later, and he didn't think he would have the nerve to do the latter.

"Claire, it's Ben," he said. "Uh, about yesterday – you caught me off-guard, and I didn't mean to react the way I did. I, uh…wanted to tell you that I feel the same way. And I always have. Please call me. I'd like to talk to you."

Ben gently returned the receiver to its cradle.

It was done. The ball was in her court now.

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The light on Claire's answering machine blinked insistently. Two messages since she'd gone to the gym.

She pressed PLAY, ignoring the first message from a telemarketer while she hung up her coat. Then Ben Stone's voice came out of the machine, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Claire, it's Ben. Uh, about yesterday –"

The rest of the message was lost in a mess of garbled tape.