Jackmccoy Stories

Claire shook her head, lacing their fingers together. "How about we lay down some ground rules?" Jack chuckled. "Rules, huh?" "Yes." A smirk twitched at her lips. "If you come within six inches of my personal space in the office, I have permission to taze you." (Or: 7 times people found out about Jack and Claire's relationship + 1 time people were told.)

She watched in silence how his toned back, his firm shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath he took, the consequential snores causing her to bite her tongue to hold back a laugh. If only the court could see him now-the fearless, fiery Jack McCoy sleeping on his stomach with one hand under his pillow and snoring like a disgruntled cat. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was childish, but Claire reveled in the fact that this sight was one reserved solely for her. (Or: It's 3 AM, and Claire Kincaid finds herself thinking about Jack McCoy.)

"Sounds lovely," Jack said. He started commenting about the color, some stupid, quippy remark, no doubt, but Claire was only half-listening as she stood to slowly unzip her pencil skirt. Based on the way Jack cut himself off with an awkward cough halfway through his sentence, Claire had a feeling her phone had picked up the sound just fine. (Or: Claire gets ready for a night out. Jack listens in. Part 1 of "and all that jazz.")

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Claire, Adam wants us to be in the office at 7 tomorrow." Claire bit back another sigh. "I'm well aware, Jack, but like you said-my car isn't going anywhere right now. Not without a tow truck." "Then let me take you home." Claire stiffened, her traitorous heart skipping a beat at his suggestion. "I'm sorry?"

Latin: "always towards better things" How Frank Cosgrove and Nolan Price, in the aftermath of a mass shooting, find their ways towards better things: each other. Canon divergence from Law & Order 22x03 "Camouflage."

Of course, Jack's age hadn't stopped a few beautiful young women-and one handsome young man-from approaching him with a wink and a casual hand trailing across his chest. One girl had curly dark hair and was even wearing a short red dress. But none of them were Claire, and therein lay the problem. (Or: Jack tries to find Claire on her night out. Easier said than done. Part 2 of "and all that jazz.")

Wincing at the stiffness of her shoulders and the thunder that continued to boom against the inside of her skull, Claire reached over to retrieve the folded paper. It was a note, she realized upon closer inspection, a note scribbled in very familiar cursive. Its message was concise: "You'll need these." Right. Jack. (Or: Claire wakes up after a wild night out. Jack is there, too. Part three of "and all that jazz.")