| A Matter of Trust |
| Jack took a cab to work early Monday morning; he wanted to get there well before the admin staff and everyone else so he could be safely ensconced in his office when they arrived. He didn't even consider calling in sick; yeah, he had some bruises from the mugging, his face looked a mess, but nothing really bad had happened. Except losing the Yamaha. That pissed him off. He was so early he actually had to start the day's first pot of coffee himself. He stuck his mug under the stream of fresh brewed, deftly switching to the carafe when the mug was full. A little cream and sugar, then back to his office before anyone else had yet arrived. Glancing at his calendar, he groaned. A 9AM meeting with Briscoe and Curtis on the Dennings case. Lennie Briscoe was the last person in the world he wanted to see right now. Even the creep who had stolen his bike was higher on his list; him at least Jack eould get away with decking. // This whole thing was Briscoe's fault. If he hadn't gotten too attached, I'd have been with him on Saturday night, not out on the street for that creep to prey on � // The fact he'd have been leaving Lennie's place about the same time was conveniently forgotten. As well as the rest � With the lights on and door shut, nobody bothered him as the rest of the office came to life that Monday morning. Until about quarter of nine, Jamie tapped on the door and stuck her head in to ask about their meeting. "Jack? You ready for �. Oh my god! Jack, what happened to you!" Jamie was horrified by what she saw. His face was bruised, and a line of stitches crossed one cheek. At least the stitches convinced her he'd gotten medical help. She hurried into the office and shut the door behind her, her face a mask of concern. Jack sighed. "I went out Saturday night; was coming home late, got mugged. Creep stole my bike." "He beat you up to get the bike?" It didn't ring quite true. Jack just shrugged. "I'd like to forget about it, if you don't mind. Curtis and Briscoe will be here any minute �" True to form the two cops tapped on his door and walked in. Jamie moved to take a seat off to the side, leaving them the chairs opposite Jack's desk. Jack groaned as he saw the looks on their faces, the shock at his appearance. // And something else in Lennie's eyes, something he didn't want to see. Compassion � // He cut them off before they could start. "I was mugged Saturday night, creep stole my bike. The officers who found me took my statement. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?" He gave them his best imposing prosecutorial glare, and they took the hint to drop it. But for the next half hour as they discussed the case, he couldn't help noticing Lennie's furtive glances at him, the half-lidded eyes full of concern and questions. That half hour was pure torture for Jack; he didn't want sympathy, he didn't want comfort, he didn't want ANYTHING from Lennie except for him to be gone. He fidgeted in his chair, suddenly feeling again the hidden bruises that covered his body beneath the formal attire of his suit. He just wanted to get away, be left alone in his misery. Finally the meeting was over. As Curtis started to leave, Lennie came around the desk. "Jack, if there's anything I can do �" He reached out to offer comfort, a simple squeeze of the shoulder, but Jack recoiled, twisting quickly away from Lennie's hand. "It's nothing, detective. I just want to forget it happened." Lennie sighed. Jack's use of his title instead of his name hadn't gone unnoticed. He didn't want comfort or friendship. "Yeah, ok, counselor. You do that." He turned rapidly and stalked out the door. Jamie sat on the sofa, watching the interchange between the two men with interest. There was definitely something going on here, some dynamic she didn't know about. Jack's good mood of the past couple weeks had vanished last week, and she suddenly realized that Lennie Briscoe had something to do with it. After the cops left, she got up and came over to him. "Jack? Are you sure you're all right?" Like Briscoe, she reached out to touch his arm. Jack exploded, pulling roughly away from her. "I said I was fine! Now just drop it, will you?" Briscoe and Curtis watched the exchange from the hall, waiting for the elevator. When they got to their car, Lennie tossed Rey the keys and got in the passenger side. He was lost in thought most of the drive back to the precinct. Rey glanced at him periodically, wondering when the dam would break. But for now, at least, Lennie kept his silence. The day kept them busy, well into the evening. It was late when Lennie got home. He was tired, and after a quick snack, fell right into bed. He woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming about Jack and that crazed motorcyclist who'd almost hit him Saturday night. He wondered if it had been Jack's bike. But it didn't make sense to his cop instincts. Steal the bike, yeah, but beat his face practically into a bloody pulp? And if theft was his MO, why did Jack still have his wallet and that heavy gold signet ring he always wore? The ring alone had to be worth $500 dollars just for the gold. Something wasn't right here, and it bothered him. He decided that since he'd called in to dispatch about the cyclist, it wouldn't be too unusual for him to follow-up on that and talk to the officers who had responded. Yeah, he'd do that tomorrow � ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next couple of days kept them hopping. It wasn't until Thursday that Lennie got a chance to follow up with the uniforms who had answered his call to dispatch. They hadn't seen the crazed cyclist, but had found the victim of the robbery. Their description of the scene they had found turned Lennie's stomach. Jack had been fading in and out of consciousness, his face and upper body covered with bruises. He'd been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. The doctors had treated his obvious injuries, stitching up the cut on his face, but by then he'd been fully conscious and had refused to let them examine the rest of his body, or to be admitted overnight for observation. Since he was capable of walking out under his own power, they couldn't force him to stay. The uniforms were stymied, since he was unable to give them anything to go on about his assailant. A vague description that would never stand up in any courtroom was all that accompanied his formal complaint about the theft of the motorcycle. The younger of the two cops commented that he'd gotten the impression that the insurance claim was the only reason McCoy had filed a complaint at all. They both had the feeling that something more was going on here, but with an uncooperative victim, there wasn't much they could do. Lennie sighed as he hung up the phone. Rey looked across their desks, his eyebrow asking the question. Maybe it was time to let his partner in, especially if he was going to worm his way onto the case. "Come on, let's go get some lunch." Rey nodded, realizing that Lennie was using the excuse to get out of the precinct. "How about that deli over on Lexington?" Lennie grinned; it was one of his favorite places. "You got it." Half an hour later they sat at a table in the back of the deli. It was well past the usual lunch rush, so they had the place pretty much to themselves. They kept their voices low so the guy making sandwiches wouldn't hear them. "OK, Lennie. Give. What really happened to McCoy?" Lennie shook his head. "Wish to god I knew, Rey. But it's more than he's telling, that's for sure. What really bothers me is that I think I was so close when it happened �" His voice trailed off. Rey gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" Lennie sighed. He'd have to tell the whole story. "Saturday night, I decided that staying home wishing he was there wasn't going to get me anywhere. So I decided to go out �" He looked so embarrassed that Rey immediately figured out where he'd gone. "Lennie? You went out cruising?" His partner glared at him. "I wasn't looking for a 'date' if that's what you mean. Not exactly. I � I'm not sure what I wanted, to tell you the truth." "Where'd you go?" Lennie bit his lip. "Remember that bar, the Jade Palace? From the Travers case?" Rey grinned, remembering Lennie's discomfort the last time he'd been there. "That Jade guy liked you, Lennie!" he teased. Lennie blushed; Rey's cop instincts were too good sometimes. "Yeah, well, you shoulda seen him when I said I wasn't there on business. We � talked for a good long time." Rey was having way too much fun at his partner's expense to pass this up. "Talked? Is that all?" Lennie's face was deep red now. "None of your business �" Rey laughed. "Ok, Lennie. I get it." Lennie couldn't help chuckling; he couldn't blame his partner for enjoying this. "Anyway, it was about 2AM when I left the club. As I was walking to my car, I was nearly run over by a motorcycle. I couldn't help think it sounded familiar, but told myself that was crazy, a motorcycle sounded like any other motorcycle. I wonder it if WAS Jack's after all �" Rey's face softened into an expression of concern. "He didn't hit you?" Lennie shook his head. "Nah, just scared the bejeezus out of me. I called it in to dispatch, which was why they found Jack so quickly afterwards." "So that's who you were talking to earlier? The uni's who responded?" Lennie nodded. "They think something else is going on here too; he was too badly beaten for a simple theft. But he won't give them anything on his assailant, says he didn't get a good enough look. And he wouldn't let them keep him overnight in the hospital, either �" "Was he at the club?" Lennie shrugged. "I didn't seem him, but Damian and I were kinda � busy." Rey raised an eyebrow. "Damian, huh? So you two really did hit it off?" Lennie hid behind his soda. "Yeah, I guess so. He told me some things about this life that gave me hope, Rey. That it's not all anonymous sex. That some guys, most guys, want more �" Rey smiled. "About time you heard that side of things. McCoy isn't the only gay man in the city, Lennie. Isn't it time you forget about him? I know you're worried about what happened, but is it really any of your business? If it was his cycle that almost ran you over, you did your good deed in calling it in and getting him help sooner that he would have otherwise. He made it pretty clear Monday morning that he doesn't want your sympathy. Or anybody's. Don't waste it on him." Lennie sighed. "You're right, Rey. Maybe I should just drop this." "I know you should. Besides, it's not like we're not already working 12 hour days with our assigned cases." Lennie nodded. "Yeah, ok. Case closed." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jack had been all but living in his office all week, coming in early and staying late. It wasn't that unusual a pattern, but still, Adam Schiff was worried. Of course by lunchtime Monday, word of his attack had gotten around the office. McCoy had made it very clear that he wanted no sympathy, in fact he'd prefer it if people just ignored that anything had happened. So in his presence, it wasn't mentioned. But behind his back, nobody was talking about anything else � Friday evening, Schiff hung back until everybody else had left, eager to get a jump on the weekend. In the eerily quiet office, he walked down the hall and opened Jack's door. McCoy was sitting in his chair, staring out the window at the back of the office, a glass of scotch in his hand. He was so lost in thought that he didn't appear to even hear his boss' entrance. Schiff cleared his throat noisily, causing McCoy to spin around in the chair, startled. "Adam! What are you doing still here?" "I could ask you the same question." Jack shrugged. "Just didn't feel like leaving yet, that's all. Wanted to get some work done on the Mortensen case �" Schiff grunted. "Getting lots of work done staring out the window. It's Friday night, Jack. Go home. Relax. Or go work out, let off some steam. You've been radiating tension all week. Whatever happened last weekend is over. Get past it already." Jack frowned at his boss. "Adam, nothing happened last weekend. I was mugged. That's all." "Tell that to Ms. Ross, but don't try it on me, Jack. I know you too well. You're hiding behind your work again. You and Briscoe have a fight?" Jack scowled. "You were way wrong on that one, Adam. Ancient history now." Schiff raised an eyebrow. "Did he do this to you?" McCoy shook his head vigorously. "Are you kidding? He was the one in love, not me, Adam." Jack realized it had been a mistake as soon as he said it. Schiff jumped on the opening. "Ah. So last weekend you were looking for a replacement? And it got a little rough?" Jack sighed. "I went out, yes. And I got mugged on my way home. Why is it so hard for people to believe that?" "The average mugging victim doesn't have 10 stitches in his cheek, Jack." Schiff realized that whatever it was, Jack was not going to talk about it, at least not yet. McCoy felt the anger rising; he didn't want to take it out on his boss and friend. Instead, he knocked back the last of the scotch in his glass and got up. "I'm going home now, will that make you happy?" As Jack walked past him, Adam reached out to touch his arm. "Jack, when you're ready to talk �" Jack violently pulled his arm away. Adam was confused by the fear he saw in the dark eyes in that moment before McCoy stormed out of the office ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once home, Jack realized that it was Friday, which meant he didn't have to be in the office tomorrow. He had the whole weekend to spend all alone with nothing to distract him. Sitting in his favorite chair, he flipped through a magazine, but none of the articles could hold his attention. The reality of what had happened was pushing its way back into his consciousness now that he didn't have work to keep it at bay. That was when the shakes began. Initially it was just a twitch in the hands but it spread fast. His stomach clenched, threatening to reject the light dinner he'd forced himself to eat on the way home. Every bruise on his body ached. It felt like the world was spinning out of control around him as he remembered every detail of the assault. He sat there, unmoving, for a long time, until the world stopped spinning. Finally, when he could stand, he got up and made a decision. There was only one way to numb this pain. Still shaking, he walked around the corner to a liquor store and bought a bottle of scotch. Maybe that would keep away the memories that tried to haunt him whenever he was alone � Continue on to Chapter 18 Send me some Feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. I'm just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |
| Chapter 17 |