Learning Curve
By Fewthistle

Author's Notes: Written fo the Right All Along/Fill In the Blank Challenge at the Thursdays100Plus LiveJournal community.

Jack sat alone in the now empty courtroom, his long legs stretched out in front of him, fingers steepled, chin resting on his chest. A deep frown creased the slightly sagging skin of his face, leaving a deep crevice between his bushy eyebrows. His lips were pursed, drawn up slightly to pull up at the skin of his jaw line.

It had seemed such an easy win. Motive, opportunity, lack of alibi witness. Circumstantial evidence, to be sure, but a preponderance of it. Granted, he hadn't had the murder weapon, but he had tried many a case without one. It had never occurred to him that this one would be any different, any harder.

So he knew the counsel for the defense. So what. He knew most of the defense attorneys in Manhattan. That had never been an issue before, not really. Unfortunately, what he hadn't counted on was the defense attorney knowing him.

Really knowing him. Knowing how his mind worked. All the subtle whys and wherefores of Jack McCoy. And why shouldn't she? After all, she had had four years to study, four years to memorize the text of who he was, to calculate just what he was willing to sacrifice in order to win. And she had. She had learned well.

Shaking his head with a slight grin that looked more like a grimace, Jack acknowledged to himself that she had indeed been his prize pupil.

Maybe it was that she had been so earnest, so dedicated to the ideals of justice. After all, that was one of the reasons he had picked her. Brilliant, idealistic, she believed in the Bill of Rights, believed in serving the people. She could have gone into private practice, spent a lifetime drawing up wills and administering trusts, reaping the benefits of handling other people's money. She didn't though. She wanted to serve.

And she was easy on the eyes. Don't forget that. If he'd only known sooner that this assistant was of the “look but don't touch variety”. If he had, maybe things wouldn't have ended the way they did. Maybe he would have handled things differently, not pushed her to choose between her job and who she was. Knowing him, probably not, but who knows. And she had learned from that, too. Maybe from that most of all.

He had argued with Arthur. Urged him not to fire her. As usual with Branch, it hadn't worked. Arthur said she needed to go. She had changed too much or too little, Jack wasn't sure. Perhaps it was he that had changed, allowed himself to be malleable clay in Branch's sweaty palm. Besides, what difference did it make now.

Arthur had said that she had learned more than was safe. One of these days, she would leave the DA's office and she would be a formidable adversary. The less they helped her out, the better. Now, sitting here in this empty courtroom, having just been handed his head on a sterling silver platter by Serena Southerlyn, counsel for the defense, Jack ruefully admitted just this once, that Arthur was right all along.