Tandem
Chapter 8
Note: James Smith-played by Denis O'Hare-from the Law & Order episode, "Pro Se" will be making a guest appearance.
Safely back at home this past week, Jack McCoy was fully recovered-at least physically-from the events of the Skyland Mountain Incident.
Mentally and emotionally, it was, of course, another story entirely, the events of that awful day now also appearing regularly in his nightmares.
To add to all the stress, true to Detective Mike Logan's prediction, Agent Fox Mulder had issued a subpoena demanding that Jack McCoy be regressed to uncover his memories of what had happened on Skyland Mountain.
This time, it was Dr. Emil Skoda to the rescue.
Mr. McCoy's mental condition is far too precarious, the psychiatrist had said. He's suffering from PTSD, and possibly Schizo-affective Disorder as well. Forcing him to remember undoubtedly traumatic events could very easily precipitate a relapse. As his doctor, I am forbidding anyone to regress him at this stage.
"Do I really have Schizo-affective order too?" McCoy asked on their next session.
"I think so," Skoda sighed. "Your breakdown showed clear signs of psychosis."
"Then, why aren't you signing me back into Bellevue Psych?"
"You've been taking your meds, Jack. As such, you're not a danger to yourself, or others. Although, I might reconsider if you pull another stunt like you did going off to Skyland Mountain. That was truly ill-advised."
McCoy nodded. That hadn't been the brightest thing he'd ever done…
"What were you looking for?" Skoda asked him.
"I don't know!" McCoy snapped. "I just want…"
He sighed, rubbed his face.
"I want to go back to what I was before," he finally said.
"The powerhouse Executive Assistant DA," Skoda nodded. "Never bothered by anything, or anyone…"
"Is that so wrong?" McCoy drew a ragged breath. "I hate feeling like this!"
"Vulnerable…weak?"
"Yes!"
My old man…
McCoy shivered. He knew damn well what McCoy Senior would have done had he caught his First-born moping around like this…
He felt Skoda lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Recovery will take time, Jack," the psychiatrist said. "And…honesty on your part too."
"Honesty…" McCoy glared at Skoda. "You think I'm lying?"
"That powerhouse prosecutor you've been hiding behind, Jack? Yes. He's a lie, a shield you've been hiding behind. Two failed marriages, and the breakdown you just had are telling me that he's a lie. Even worse, he's a lie that isn't working anymore."
McCoy sighed, bowed his head.
Will I ever feel right again?
A few days later, Jack McCoy was standing outside of his apartment building. He was painfully aware that he had some decisions to make, but not enough information with which to make that decision.
To that end, he had expressed a wish to visit Fordham Psychiatric Prison, just a few miles out of the City.
He could easily have taken one of the Metro busses. One of them stopped at the prison hourly. But McCoy had discovered his friends, both from the Courthouse, and from the 27th had woven a protective net around him.
One of them was always on hand to drive him everywhere; medical appointments, grocery shopping, whatever…
McCoy sighed.
No one's fault but my own…
This morning, his ride was Lennie Briscoe…
"Counselor," Briscoe put the paper he'd been reading away. "Heard you wanted to go to Fordham. What's that about? Checking out the facilities?"
"It's a prison, Lennie," McCoy sighed. "I need to visit one of the patients."
"Who?"
"James Smith."
"The guy you prosecuted last year?"
"I just…need to talk to him," McCoy said.
"As long as it doesn't get you hurt, Counselor," Lennie got into his car. "We all want you to be well."
"Me too…" McCoy sighed as he secured his seat belt.
He didn't really understand this need to see James Smith.
Maybe he has answers?
Fordham Psychiatric Prison
For the life of him, James Smith couldn't understand why Jack McCoy had asked to see him. Initially, Smith had considered refusing McCoy's request. The man had prosecuted him, after all.
But even Smith knew there had been no malice behind it; only a desire to see justice done, and also to see to it that James Smith got the help he needed.
Secondly, Smith was a naturally curious man; and McCoy's request bothered him.
Why does he want to see me?
So, here Smith was, waiting in the Visitors' Room, waiting for Jack McCoy.
When the attorney entered, James Smith felt nothing but shock. The man who had entered looked nothing like the man who had prosecuted him the year before.
Gone was the aura of certainty and confidence. The man who stood before him looked…harrowed; thin, a haunted look to his eyes.
"What happened to you?" the words just came out of Smith; the shock was that great.
McCoy chuckled darkly as he took a seat across from Smith.
"I…" he sighed. "I owe you an apology…"
"A…apology…" totally confused, Smith tilted his head. "Whatever for?"
"How do you do it?"
"Do…what?"
This conversation was getting…unnerving.
McCoy sighed, and tried again.
"How do you live with…" here he waved a hand vaguely, clearly trying to find the right word. "This…"
Ahh…
"Mental illness?" McCoy's flinch told Smith everything he needed to know.
"I live with what I've got the same way everyone else lives," Smith said. "One day at a time. What…happened, Counselor?"
McCoy bowed his head, looking ashamed, somehow.
"I had a breakdown last month," he admitted. "I was diagnosed with PTSD, and also with Schizo-affective disorder."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Smith honestly was. He knew what mental illness had done to his life, wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy…
McCoy was trembling, the hurt in him clear to be seen.
"I don't know how to deal with this…"
"Taking any medication?"
"Yes," McCoy nodded tiredly. "For the PTSD, for the nightmares, and for the panic attacks. All of a sudden, there are so many pills…"
"And you're tail-spinning…"
"Tail-spinning…" McCoy repeated the word, caught by it. "I don't know what to do anymore…"
"I do…" Smith leaned forward, lay a hand on McCoy's hand. "Trust your friends. Let them help you. And, even more important, accept that you have limits; especially now. Don't overtax your strength."
McCoy nodded slowly, and now Smith knew the man was ill. Tears in his eyes, McCoy was falling apart right in front of Smith.
Jack McCoy stepped outside, feeling embarrassed beyond measure. He had broken down, cried in James Smith's arms, cried like a baby…
I'm too fragile now…
Lieutenant Anita Van Buren was waiting for him now.
"Want to go back home now," she asked as he sat in the passenger seat next to her.
"No…" McCoy realized he had decided, perhaps when crying in James Smith's arms.
"I need to talk to Adam…"
"You all right, Counselor?"
No…
Feeling brittle, McCoy closed his eyes, fought the tears back down.
I want to be what I used to be…
No chance of that…
Van Buren brought her car to a halt in front of 1 Hogan Place. She stopped McCoy just before he got out of her car, her arms enfolding him in a fierce hug.
"We all love you," she spoke into his ear. "Whatever happens, remember that."
Making his way up to Adam Schiff's office, ignoring all the curious glances sent his way, knocking on Schiff's office door.
"Come in…"
"Jack!" Schiff stood as McCoy entered, closing the door quietly behind him. "What brings you here, my boy?"
"I…" Jack swallowed, hugging himself. "I…"
All of a sudden, he couldn't find the right words. He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. But the words just wouldn't come.
Schiff guided him to the couch, and gently sat him down, worry in his eyes. He dragged another chair over, sat across from McCoy.
"What's wrong, Jack?" he spoke gently.
"I…" Jack bowed his head, tears pounding in his head. "I need to resign, Adam…"
"Resign?"
Adam sat there, shock in his eyes.
"I can't…do this anymore," McCoy couldn't stop the shaking. "It's taking everything I've got just to keep my head above water, and…I'm…drowning…Adam."
He was crying again, tears leaking from his eyes. He felt Adam's arms go around him, holding him tightly.
After a while, he regained a tenuous self-control. Adam patted his shoulder, then stood.
"I'm going to call Claire," he said; and McCoy nodded wearily.
He sat there on the couch, head bowed, as Adam made that call.
"Claire, come to my office, please."
"Adam…" Claire Kincaid breezed into Adam's office less than a minute later. Then, she saw McCoy.
"Jack?"
"Claire," Adam spoke. "He's resigning."
"No…" Claire turned to McCoy. "You can't!"
McCoy kept his head bowed as Claire sat next to him.
"Why, Jack?"
"You're ready, Claire," he couldn't look up at her. "You can take my place."
"Jack…"
"I…can't!" McCoy grabbed Claire's hand. "Please…let me go."
Crying again…
"I'm going to call Emil," Adam Schiff spoke quietly. "He can meet us at Bellevue…"
"Adam!" Claire hissed. "You're not going to send him back to-"
"Don't…" McCoy laid his head on Claire Kincaid's shoulder. "I'm…falling. And I don't know how to stop it. Please, Claire…I'm tired."
All he had left right now was pain…