Tandem
Chapter 5
December 1973
Location unknown
Jack McCoy felt like crap. The place was a strange cross between prison and hospital.
He remembered his bike skidding out from under him in that blinding light.
Now, Jack McCoy was here, in this…prison. He had tried to escape twice, each attempt ending in abject failure.
The punishments had been…excruciating.
Now, here he was, aching in every part of his body, and he was beginning to realize he was going to die here.
This place was arranged rather like a state mental institution, men and women sleeping in dormitory rooms, with a common room used by all.
When they were feeling up to it, that is…
Jack McCoy hadn't been feeling up to anything more than huddling under thin sheets for several days, and it wasn't just the punishments…
There had been tests too…experiments; most of the memories gone, washed away by agony the likes of which he had never experienced before.
Now…they had turned their attention to other prisoners, leaving Jack McCoy alone these last few days; and Jack finally felt just barely well enough to wander into the Common Room.
The other prisoners well enough to wander around in the Common Room put McCoy in mind of the photographs of Auschwitz Survivors he had seen, staring at nothing with shell-shocked eyes.
Do I look like that?
A woman sitting on a couch, weeping quietly.
"Are you all right?"
Dumb question, Jack…
Here, in this place, no one was all right…
The woman looked up at him, eyes welling. She pulled herself together by effort of will.
"I'm Cassandra," she patted the couch, the empty space next to her. "Have a seat. I don't bite."
McCoy sat gingerly, body aching literally everywhere.
"Jack McCoy," he spoke hesitantly.
"The motorcycle lawyer," Cassandra laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"George has a lot to answer for," she muttered.
George?
What did George Atkinson have to do with any of this?
"He sent you here, didn't he?"
"No…" McCoy shivered.
George wouldn't do something like that…
He felt her hand move from his shoulder to cup his jaw.
"Did they hurt you?" she asked.
"They?" he repeated the word, chills icing his veins...
Jack McCoy jerked awake. Briefly, he didn't know where-or when-he was…
Then, he remembered.
September of 96, in the bedroom of my new apartment.
As he sat up, the dream, originally so clear in every detail, fled away, leaving him with nothing.
Damn…he rubbed his face and rolled out of bed. No chance of getting back to sleep after a nightmare like that.
1 Hogan Place
Jack McCoy felt better now. Hot shower, breakfast, and hot, fresh coffee; he actually felt rather good now, ready to face the world.
He found Dr. Emil Skoda waiting in his office.
"Dr. Skoda," McCoy set his coffee on the table, slid out of his shabby jacket, and set the helmet in a corner. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
"Just wanted to see you," Skoda spoke mildly. "You've been through a lot this last year…"
"I'm fine. No problem at all."
"That's not what I was told, Jack."
McCoy sighed.
"Who tattled?" but he thought he knew…
"It was Claire Kincaid," Skoda admitted. "As I'm sure you already knew. She says you've been having some pretty intense nightmares. Real screamers, she said."
McCoy flushed at that.
"She wants you to unscrew my marbles?"
"It wouldn't hurt," compassion in Skoda's eyes and voice. "Those nightmares say you need help. For what it's worth, Adam's worried too."
McCoy continued to stare out the window, glad Skoda couldn't see his face.
"He spoke to you? About me?"
"They're worried about you," Skoda stood. "So…how about it, Jack?"
Look out the window…not at Skoda…
"I'll get back to you on that…" McCoy ignored Skoda's frustrated sigh.
Nope…never gonna happen…
Three days later…
Jack McCoy was in one of the council rooms in Hogan Place, along with Claire Kincaid; helping a young kidnapping victim prepare her case.
Lexa Carpenter, only sixteen, had been taken by a sexual predator. Fortunately, the police had tracked them down before anything was done. But the man had strapped her down to his bed, arms at her sides, straps at wrists and ankles.
"I couldn't move…" Lexa lifted terrified eyes. "He had me tied down by my wrists and ankles, and I just couldn't…are you all right, Mr. McCoy?"
Arms and legs…strapped down…trapped, like a fly in a spider's web…
McCoy shuddered, images from his nightmares flitting through his brain. He looked down at his hands, clenched into fists under the table.
"I'm fine…" he forced a tight smile. "Please continue."
"Yeah…" Lexa eyed McCoy cautiously. "He didn't even touch me. Just stood there, staring at me. I tried to twist my hands free. But the straps were just too tight…"
Lexa's voice faded away…
Restraints too tight…Huge black eyes staring down…
Claire Kincaid saw Jack McCoy go…ashen.
All the color faded from his face, leaving him gray to the lips.
Abruptly, the EADA stood, shaking, breath gone ragged.
"Jack?" Claire got to her feet too, alarm sliding along her nerves. McCoy didn't seem to hear her, eyes fixed on something only he could see.
Without a word, he turned and fled the room.
"Miss Kincaid?" Lexa looked up at Claire. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing to do with you," Claire reassured the girl. "Stay right here, I'll be back."
Claire stepped out into the hall, saw one of the Junior Attorneys, Mike Cutter.
"Where did he go?"
"Men's' Room," Cutter said. "Something's wrong…"
Ignoring him…ignoring propriety, Claire walked into the Men's Room.
She found Jack McCoy, tucked under the row of sinks, curled up into a fetal position, shaking like a leaf…
"Jack!"
She dropped to her knees, laid gentle hands on his shoulder. His body jerked under his hands as he tried to scuttle away, blind, unreasoning terror in his eyes.
"Jack…it's me…it's…Claire…"
He tried to back away, into the nearest corner. Claire followed, reaching out to hold him by both shoulders.
"Stay away!" he shoved her back, voice a terrified shriek. "Don't touch me!"
Backed into the corner…
Claire heard the door open.
"What's wrong?" Mike Cutter again.
"Call an ambulance!" Claire ordered, keeping her eyes on Jack McCoy.
Curled up…arms shielding his face, shaking in mortal terror, tears running down his cheeks…
Bellevue Psychiatric Unit
Dr. Emil Skoda sat in the Visitor's Room, waiting patiently. The door opened, and Jack McCoy entered. He stood there a moment; right arm across his chest, fingers resting on his left shoulder.
"Sit, Jack," Skoda said. "Please."
McCoy took the other chair, directly across from Skoda. The attorney looked like hell, haunted eyes, pale, unshaven, hair an unruly mess.
Skoda had read the Hospital Admissions Form.
Patient incoherent, in apparent psychotic state…
They'd been forced to put McCoy in restraints and sedate him.
Now, here Jack McCoy was, looking utterly lost…
"Have you rethought your stance on seeing a psychiatrist?" Skoda asked.
McCoy bowed his head.
"I don't know what to say," he muttered.
"As long as you don't say, I'm fine…"
McCoy chuckled at that. There was no amusement in that bitter laughter. Hugging himself, right hand resting on left shoulder…
"I don't understand…" he closed his eyes.
"You're hurting, Jack," Skoda leaned forward. "Let me help you."
Rocking slightly, McCoy looked up, and Skoda saw the fear in him.
He's never been terrified like this before, doesn't know how to handle it…
"I can help you, Jack."
"How?"
"Regressive hypnosis," Skoda said, and he saw Jack McCoy flinch.
"Regressive hypnosis…" there was real fear in McCoy's eyes now.
"Something…bad…happened to you, Jack," Skoda insisted. "It needs to be brought out so you can deal with it; so you can heal."
"I…" McCoy shook his head, clasped his hands together, the grip white-knuckled, hands and fingers trembling. His breathing was ragged too, the trembling taking hold of his entire body.
There was a battle going on inside Jack McCoy right now; and all Skoda could do was pray that the right side won…
Head down, a deep sigh trembled its way out of McCoy's body.
"Skoda…" he didn't look up. "When can you schedule…this?"
"When do you want it?"
"As soon as possible…" barely audible.
"Tomorrow afternoon?"
McCoy jerked at that, fear in his eyes, and Skoda knew he was going to change his mind.
"Jack…" he spoke gently. "You can't go on like this, and you know it. Your breakdown…if it tells you nothing else, it's telling you that."
McCoy stared down at his hands, features gray with fatigue.
Another deep sigh…
"All right," he nodded shakily. "Tomorrow it is…"
"I'll prepare things then," Skoda stood. "I'll also arrange for a friend to be present for you. Adam Schiff?"
That brought a brief smile.
"Yeah…" Jack McCoy closed his eyes. "Adam Schiff…"