Chapter Text
I remember the first day I walked into his office. I probably should have re-thought my approach, but I didn't want him to start off our working relationship by hitting on me. I'd heard the rumors – some of which weren't rumors. I do wonder, sometimes, if I had let him hit on me there at the beginning, if our relationship might not have ever evolved.
He was quite subtle in his seduction. It took a while before I realized what he had done, the sonofabitch.
Anyway – first impressions and all of that. Actually, my first impression of Jack McCoy was rather impressive. He was in court, giving a closing argument. It was the most riveting thing I'd heard in a live court room. The man has a presence. It makes him both trustworthy and intimidating as hell.
I don't remember the outcome of the trial, but I remember wanting to emulate his confidence. He's an amazing attorney. He wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't. We may not have always agreed on procedures and trial strategies, but we did typically agree on the need for justice.
I've kept track of his career as much as I could since I left. That's right – I left. I hate that everyone thinks I was killed in that accident. I'd rather not get into it, but, let's just say, I was a witness to something someone would have preferred I not see and I wasn't hit by a random drunk driver. My car was deliberately targeted by someone trying to make sure I wasn't around to point out their illegal activity.
Long-story short: closed trial, conviction, execution (not getting into my feelings on that here), and I'm free to return to 'my old life'.
The problem with that is, I'm not sure what there is of my 'old life' after fifteen years. The man who was my boss (McCoy) is now the DA. The man who was the DA when I left, retired several years ago and three others filled his shoes before McCoy took over.
I will admit, I was surprised when McCoy decided to actually run. He has never been particularly politically motivated – not in a way that would make anyone think he would want to be elected to the DA's office. It's a job I'm sure he can do, but not one I would figure he would actively pursue.
Beyond that, Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis both left the precinct. I think I even heard somewhere that Lennie had passed away.
Like I said – apparently a lot has changed since that night fifteen years ago. I can handle that. I'm sure things about me have changed too.
The one thing that I'm a little nervous about is Jack. He and I were sort of involved. Things were just getting started – getting good, even – when the 'accident' happened.
I think that was the hardest part of entering WITSEC – leaving Jack behind. I didn't even have a chance to tell him good-bye. Do you know what that's like?
I'm on a plane back to New York now and I'm not afraid to admit that I'm almost terrified to walk back into the DA's office. Most of the people may not even recognize me. That's not what bothers me. Jack is. I have no idea how he'll react.
On the one hand, it seems cruel to turn his world up-side down. He's had fifteen years to come to terms with me being gone. And if he's moved on, I don't want to disrupt that. On the other hand, I don't want him to find out from anyone else. I want to tell him myself.
And then I'll probably break down.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him. No time to dwell on that now, my car is here.
Centre Street hasn't changed much, I notice as we drive through town. Maybe I asked the driver to take a less-than-straight route over to West 125th. Once I get my nerves under control, I have him take me to the DA's office. Security is a little tighter than before – a direct result of the terrorist actions ten or so years ago, I suspect. The Marshals must have reactivated my file, since no one has stopped me for trying to impersonate a deceased ADA.
As I ride up in the old cranky, familiar, elevator, I think I should have called ahead. Let Jack know I was coming. I lost my nerve before I finished the security screening. I could still turn around and go back, but the elevator doors open and the smell of the office is so familiar and overwhelming that my feet almost won't move.
I'm hoping Jack's assistant will be a bit of a buffer, since I know I can't just waltz into the DA's office. Okay, that option's gone since Jack is standing by his assistant's desk. He looks up and his face loses all color.
It takes me a minute to get my thoughts in order, but I manage a soft, "Hi, Jack."