Remember in 6x11 'Horse Sense' when Jack told Claire to stop being a wise-ass? Though Jack and Abbie fought they never had anything so personal which I always thought was a waste as it would've added depth to their relationship. Plus it gives the chance for a good make-up scene. This set 6 months after the first chapter
Jack sat down on the marble bench, running his hand over his forehead to quell the headache he was getting. He had just been told by Judge Ianello, that their physical evidence (the victim, Leslie LaRue's blood mixed with the defendant, Malcolm Paulson's semen splattered all over his coat) was unconstitutionally gathered. The detectives' warrant had specified the Paulson's house, not the detached garage where it was found. It was the second piece of damning physical evidence that had been excluded due to a technicality. Goddamn idiot!
"Jack." He opened his eyes. Abbie walked quickly towards him from down the long corridor. When she was right next to him he noticed she was wearing the skirt he had gotten her for her birthday. He had had to lie about the price, saying it was on sale otherwise she would've made him return it. Or at least that was what he told himself. He was worried she would wonder why he was buying somebody he had dated for four months then, a two hundred dollar gift.
She handed him a thin manilla folder. "I got the report from Rodgers. The semen matches Paulson and the blood Leslie. Perfect match. One in-"
"It's out Abbie!" He snapped. He stood up, lowering his voice. "That idiot Ianello threw out the evidence and got the case dismissed." Abbie blinked in surprise. "Anyway, where have you been?! I told you to be here. I needed your argument on Tomlin vs. Oregon."
"It was a dead end. I wouldn't have been of any use if I was there. I left a message on your machine."
"You still should've come. I didn't give you permission to take a three hour lunch break!"
"I was getting forensics reports and looking to see if the police missed any witnesses so our case wouldn't completely be in the toilet if you lost!" Annoyance crept into her voice which only inflamed Jack's. She rolled her eyes. "Besides, I didn't know I had to ask you before I made every decision," Abbie bit back, annoyed at Jack's comments.
"Abbie, I've got a serial rapist who is now wandering around New York doing who knows what or who. This isn't the time to be a wise-ass."
"I'm sorry?!" Abbie snapped, outraged.
"Just keep looking for witnesses. We're going to need them now . Call me if you find anything." Then he picked up his briefcase and walked off, not looking back
Jack began feeling bad about his comments five hours later, when he was sitting in his office alone. Fuck me. I shouldn't have said that. Jesus Christ she must be pissed. He had never lashed out at Abbie before. Maybe a short reprimand when she made a mistake, but nothing that they couldn't laugh about afterwards.
He didn't like the idea that she was mad at him. It gave him a discomfited feeling. They had been dating for six months now and t had never had a real fight, though this wasn't exactly that.
He felt a guilty twist in his gut. He knew Abbie well enough to know she was proud of her skills as a lawyer. She would not enjoy getting reamed out in public, and made to look incompetent, though he didn't think anybody heard. Especially when she hadn't done anything wrong. He felt another guilty twist.
He sat in his chair for a bit then poured himself a bit of scotch and reassured himself. Abbie will understand. She knows how stressful these kinds of cases can be. He laughed out loud at that. He wasn't that drunk yet. Throughout his relationship he had learned she had a moderately vengeful streak. He observed that was another thing they had in common. Still, I don't usually become so emotional. I never would've done that with Jamie. I suppose me and Abbie have a far more complex relationship though… He was still thinking when there was a knock on his door.
He half expected to see Abbie but it was just a courier. "Message from Abbie Carmichael for Jack McCoy?" He nodded to show that that was he and she put a manila folder on his desk then left. Taped to the folder was a folded up piece of paper. He unfolded it and began to read.
Even writing this I see my mistake in not asking you if I should use a pen or pencil.
That did not bode well.
But regardless, I talked to Van Buren, who mentioned one of Paulson's friends, Lawrence Damour. He said he was inside the club the entire time the rape occured. Asked around, the bartender remembers him walking out to the back alley door for a smoke and coming back shortly after and downing two shots.
After some rounds with Briscoe and Green he admitted he saw it all. He's willing to testify if we drop all charges. Makes me sick but I think we might have to. I'm hoping we can argue inevitable discovery, get the shirt and his shoes back in. Lennie is taking Damour's formal statement. We're holding him over night on being an accomplice so you can decide.
Inside was the write up of the interview, her report and the detective's signatures. He sighed, a mix of feelings running through him. First, relief at getting Paulson. He knew even Judge Ianello was likely to accept the inevitable discovery. Even without, an eyewitness could leverage a plea bargain.
Then disappointment. He was supposed to go to Abbie's after work for a romantic dinner. But he doubted she would be in the mood to see him now. He didn't want to spend the night sitting in his apartment alone. Funny how a few months ago that was all you did and now you can't stand the idea. He also didn't particularly want Abbie coldly staring at him from across the boardroom table all day tomorrow.
He grabbed his coat, trying to think of what dinner Abbie liked. She loves steak. But where do you order steak? Maybe I can pick some up to make it myself. Flowers… I'll have to ask her favourite for next time.
As Jack was walking out he realized that he hadn't once wondered, like he had many times before when there were issues between them, whether being with Abbie, his A.D.A, was worth it or not.
Abbie was talking with her sister Michelle on the phone. They were talking in Cherokee as Abbie had recently learned her neighbor, Mrs Tucetti, occasionally began listening in. She was lying on her bed in her shorts and an old t-shirt. Jack's shirt. "It wasn't that bad even. It was rude and all but forgivable. It wasn't like he hit me or called me stupid."
"Yet you called me," Michelle remarked. "And I don't think it's because you're deeply wounded anyway."
"I call you three times a week."
"Not on Thursday nights drunk."
"I'm not drunk, I had two beers."
"With your tolerance? Be careful one more and you're heading for a blackout," Michelle quipped. Abbie rolled her eyes.
"Maybe I don't want to call you."
"Grow up and tell me. You'll be spending a lot of money for this call."
"OK. But no snarky comments. So I was really pissed at him all day. Then I get home and I'm sitting in my living room mad at him. Then suddenly I'm not mad. I just wish he was here so we could joke together and talk and have good fun sex to celebrate me finding the witness. Then I'm mad at myself for forgiving him so fast. Then I realize how stupid and petty that is."
"1.99 a minute for: I'm not mad at my boyfriend anymore, but I wish I was. Now I'm mad at myself for wishing I was. Jesus Christ!" Michelle exclaimed but Abbie could hear she was smiling.
"Hilarious. Any other guy said that to me I'm angry for a while OK? Jack I'm angry then I all of a sudden start missing him. Just like that. I just want him to apologize now so we can forget about it." There was a laugh. "Really, you're laughing?! You're right, this is not worth 1.99 a minute," Abbie snapped.
"Don't hang up. I have good advice. It's just funny to see my little sister in love for the first time." Michelle repeated the word again, this time in English and stretched out the 'L.'
"I told Jack I loved him three months ago, what else is new?"
"Yes, I remember you made me listen to the whole story for an hour."
"I went through five false pregnancy scares with you, if you start complaining…"
"And the story restored my faith in true love. Somebody's grouchy. I didn't know you were a mean drunk." Michelle talked quickly before Abbie could snap back. "I'm just saying your forgiveness and how much you miss him… How you talk about Jack every time we call. I think, and I can't believe I'm saying this given he's your boss and far older which is so bad on paper. But, I don't know, I think, you're really in love."
"Really in love?" Abbie repeated skeptically. The phrase sounded cheesy and melodramatic.
"True love. Such true love I think you and Jack are actually secretly starring in a modern, New York, remake of Disney's Pocahontas," Michelle deadpanned, making Abbie laugh. "I'm not kidding. You've been so happy lately and now this, I'm just saying this is getting serious."
Abbie rolled over so she was on her left side, looking at the closet. She could see one of Jack's suits hanging through the open door. "It's only been six months. You can't be serious in six months."
"And I assume this tidbit of knowledge comes from your decades of experience with love and heartbreak? I'm not saying you should get hitched. Just don't think of it as an office fling is all," Michelle argued. "I think y'all could have a real future." Abbie didn't respond. "I'll take your silence as agreement."
"Michelle?"
"Yes?"
"You're not worth 1.99 a minute," Abbie said though she didn't mean it.
"Don't be silly, of course I am. Cheer up, I'm sure he'll come to apologize and you can forget the fact that you're now in a real relationship."
"Change the subject," Abbie said, feeling uncomfortable.
"For now, but I'm going to bring this up again. Possibly when I come to New York eventually. Will I be meeting Mr. Jack McCoy then? I trust he knows about me."
"Of course on both counts," Abbie laughed. "And the moment you come to New York I'm introducing you two. You can ride from the airport on his motorcycle."
"Have you?" Michelle asked.
"Once. I held onto him so tight I left finger marks in his back."
"I'm sure you told everyone at work that's where he got them…" Joked Michelle.
She chuckled. "Though that might be a good idea…" Abbie mused.
"Abbie!"
"I hope you didn't think I was still a virgin."
"No. But until now you haven't given me any details," Michelle prodded.
"Oh well-" The doorbell rang, echoing through the apartment.
"It's me. I have dinner. Can we talk?" Jack's voice boomed.
"Oooh." Michelle sang and Abbie giggled at that despite herself. "Go have fun Abbie. Goodbye. I love you. And don't think I won't come to New York and call your bluff."
"There's no bluff to call. I want to see you and Jack interact. Love you too." Abbie hung up.
Jack was waiting at the door for her, holding two brown, paper grocery bags and had a motorcycle helmet hanging from his wrist. She raised her eyebrows at the bags. "An apology dinner. I got steak, potatoes, carrots, green beans, everything." He said bashfully.
Abbie let him in. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I was just angry about the case. You did nothing wrong. In fact it was smart of you to go looking for witnesses, we both knew there was a good chance of that evidence being thrown out."
"Are you really sorry?" Abbie asked.
"Very," He said but he was already smiling. That son of a bitch knows he's already in the clear.
"You're not going to go around giving away responsibility are you?"
"I take full responsibility. I'll even confess to a few closed cases I feel so much responsibility," He added. Abbie smiled at that and he grinned back. He put the bags on the counter and took her in his arms, hugging her tight. He smelled like the cold city air. "Thank you. I love you so much," He whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
"I love you too." She said, Far more than I reasonably should. "Your forgiveness is still contingent on that steak dinner though," Abbie said, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Jack grinned at her and kissed her forehead before heading to her kitchen.
Jack could actually make a very good steak and potatoes. They ate it at her small kitchen table, their chairs pulled together. Jack poked her foot with his under the table.
"That's OK here, but you need to stop doing that in public. One day you'll do it to Adam," Abbie joked.
"He needs some excitement. Then again more excitement from me might get me fired," He mused. "I heard you talking to your sister through the door. Does Michelle hate me now?"
Abbie laughed. "Now? You could hear me?"
"Just some vague sounds. Your apartment walls are ludicrously thin. I think Ms Tucetti, next door, has been hearing what we do lately. She's stopped holding the elevator door for me. But I know you call your sister whenever there's a problem."
"I was. She gave me some good advice. She does actually like you now. Far more than when this all first started," Abbie smiled. Briefly remembering Michelle's lectures and warnings when Abbie had told her about Jack. "She thinks you're good for me. That's all that matters to her," Abbie admitted.
Jack raised his eyebrows. It was pleasing but surprising, to know he had Michelle on his side, given how much Abbie talked to her. He wondered what Abbie had said about him to make her come around. "Do you agree?"
Abbie gave him a look, somewhere between amusement and scorn. "Don't fish for compliments Jack."
Jack lay awake at night. Abbie slept beside him, thoroughly wiped from their fun in bed. He smiled at the memory himself. Abbie was surprisingly forgiving. Unusual for her considering her usual actions at work. But people can be very different in work compared to personal. Still it seemed out of character. He secretly wondered if it was a sign of progress in their relationship. Quick forgiveness. God knows I'd forgive her for almost anything.
She's different from the previous ones. With Sally or Diana I felt something like this, I think. But not so soon and so strongly. Then again I was passionate enough with them for it to end in a disaster. Is it unrealistically optimistic to think this one might last then? Won't end with Abbie quitting and us avoiding each other at bar association dinners and making awkward, fake small talk when we do have to interact. He looked over at Abbie's sleeping form. One olive-skinned arm was thrown across his chest. The other was under her pillow. She was smiling in her sleep, occasionally seeming to mouth words in whatever dream she was having.
I hope not.