Intro: So, ever
wonder if Jack met and married another assistant? I do, all the time.
Hey, Jack deserves love! Here is just a little scene of them at home that I had
one night as I worried about my power going off...Imagination is a wonderful
thing, n'est pas? :)
By Anne Mikusinski
It was the end of a very long week. I had been out looking for work with
practically no luck, and Jack — well, let's just say that the scales of justice
seemed to be favoring the other side of the law lately. So, on Friday night we
were both exhausted and, after ordering Chinese delivered for dinner, neither
of us wanted to do anything more than relax and idly channel surf. We did just
that, finally settling on a horrible "disease of the week" movie.
About a half hour into it, I looked over to make a joking comment to Jack about
the ridiculous dialogue and saw that he had fallen asleep in his recliner, the
CPL manual that he had been reading lying open on his lap. I decided to let him
sleep; he needed the rest.
As much as I constantly told him
that it was not his job to save the world, he still insisted on trying, and he
attacked each case with dedication and passion. Lately, though, it seemed to be
taking its toll. He'd lost three of his last seven cases, and had to make deals
on two of the ones that he had actually won. It seemed to be grinding him down,
for he would come home at night looking drained and beaten. When I tried to get
him to talk about his day, he would often change the subject and ask about how
I had spent mine. He would talk about anything but work.
At times like this, I almost wished that I was still working at Hogan Place
again. Not that Jack would be acting any differently, but at least I would know
what was going on, and maybe have a clue of what to say, or do, to make him
feel better. I felt very disconnected from him at times like this, and wished
that he would be more willing to share his feelings with me. Maybe then I
wouldn't feel so helpless.
I tried to distract myself and
turned my attention back to the movie, but a few minutes later found that I was
nodding off as well, due to the insipid plot and the sound of the rainstorm
outside. Sighing, I switched off the television. I was about to nudge Jack
awake and head into the bedroom when a huge streak of lightning arched across
the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. Two
seconds later, the lights flickered and went out — and I gave a yelp of abject
terror as the apartment was plunged into darkness.
I knew it was ridiculous, but I was
terrified of the dark. Had been for as long as I could remember. Perhaps it had
something to do with the fact that I was the only girl in my immediate family
and my two older cousins used to delight in scaring me — pulling me into dark
closets, announcing things like, "Here are some scenes from next week's
show" while grabbing me and making werewolf noises until I begged for them
to let me out. I always felt claustrophobic in the dark, as though the walls
were closing in on me. When I lived alone, I always went to sleep with at least
one light on.
I didn't realize how loudly I had
yelped until I heard a soft thump, followed by Jack's groggy, "What the
hell...Anne? What's wrong? What happened to the lights?" I heard him
putting the recliner into its upright position as he called to me, "Anne,
are you awake? Are you here?"
I had to swallow twice before I
could answer. When I did, I cringed to hear how small and strangled my voice
sounded. "Um, yeah, I'm okay, Jack..." I managed to squeak out.
"But I think the power went out."
I tried to steady my breathing, but I could feel the panic beginning to
set in, even as my eyes began to adjust to the darkness. A minute later, I felt
Jack's arm around me, and even though I knew it was him, and I knew I was safe,
I still jumped.
"Whoa," Jack said softly.
"It's me! What's wrong; what has you so spooked? You're shaking like a
leaf!" I tried to brush it off by laughing weakly, then sighed and
leaned against him for a moment. He squeezed me tightly and asked again,
"What, love, what is it?"
"Well, promise not to laugh,
okay?"
"Of course I won't."
"Well, I'm afraid of the
dark...hey!" I hit him lightly in the arm as I heard him chuckle softly.
"You promised! And it's not funny."
"Okay, okay." He gave me a
kiss on the cheek, trying to soothe my ruffled feathers. "But why?"
"Long story."
"It's not like we have anything
better to do. You might as well tell me...but, in a minute. I wanna go into the
kitchen and get the flashlight and some candles. Hang on."
I felt him move away from me and the
panic returned. I reached for his hand. "Um, please don't leave me alone
here. I'll come with you, ‘kay?"
"Sheesh," he said softly.
"You really are scared, aren't you?"
I just nodded.
"Well, I definitely want to
hear this story — after we get some light. C'mon then; you can help me unearth
some matches."
Together we walked into the kitchen.
About ten minutes later, we were settled back in the living room with the
flashlight standing upright in the middle of the table and several candles
burning all around the room. I was feeling a little calmer, but still uneasy,
even though, logically, I knew I had nothing to worry about. Honestly, I was
embarrassed about admitting my fear to Jack. After all, there aren't many 34
year-old women who are afraid of the dark.
We were sitting on the couch, with
my head resting on his shoulder, listening to the newscaster on the small
battery operated radio report about the "citywide blackout," and how
Con Ed was using every truck at its disposal to work on the problem. There was
no way of knowing when it would be fixed. Sighing, Jack leaned forward to
switch it off, then turned to me.
"Okay...give...tell me your
story."
I hesitated, still feeling
embarrassed. "Um, are you sure you wouldn't rather just play a game of
"truth or dare?" I snuggled close to him and reached up to run my
fingers through his hair, hoping to distract him, but it didn't work.
He laughed softly. "Maybe later...after
you tell me. You were really shaken up ten minutes ago, and I want to know why.
I promise; I won't laugh anymore. Cross my heart."
I sighed resignedly, "Okay, I
guess you're right. Honestly, I don't know why I'm so scared." I began,
telling him about what my cousins had done and then continuing, "Of
course, it got worse as I got older. My friends would tease me about it, and I
was so embarrassed that, for a while, I would pretend that I was over it, and
go with them to scary movies — praying that they wouldn't see me covering my
eyes. Of course, afterwards, I'm sure they would all go home and sleep like
babies, while I'd be awake all night, jumping at the slightest noise. After a
while, I started making up excuses to skip the movies I really didn't want to
see. Eventually, they stopped asking. I really thought that I'd grow out of
it...but...I don't know. Something about being in the dark...it just unnerves
me. I feel disoriented, and not in control. And I panic, I guess, like some people
do in elevators, feeling like the walls are closing in...."
"Okay," Jack interrupted.
"I can sort of understand that."
"But there's more," I
continued. "I guess what it boils down to is that whole concept of ‘being
in the dark' — the metaphorical sense as well. Not knowing what's around you,
feeling out of control, not knowing what's going to happen. As I got older, I
hoped I'd grow out of it, but it's still there. And I think the things that I
saw when I was working with you last year — some of those crimes, those people
that we prosecuted — I still have nightmares, Jack."
"I know," he teased.
"I have the bruises to prove it. You do thrash around when you're in the
throes of one, love."
"I know. I'm sorry. I really
know it's all pretty ridiculous, that I'm safe, that there's nothing in the
dark that isn't there in the light. But still, I don't know all the time that I
can be absolutely sure of that. And that, basically, is the whole sordid story.
Sorry you asked?"
"Not at all. And...you're not
ridiculous at all. It's funny though. I think while you're afraid of the dark,
I tend to embrace it. I love the unknown, and don't mind feeling
unbalanced...." he trailed off a minute. "At least not until lately."
I heard him sigh, but didn't dare
interrupt. I knew he was about to tell me what had ben bothering him all week.
I reached over and took his hand and squeezed it, encouraging him to continue.
"It's nothing. It's just that I'm
starting to wonder if what I do matters anymore. I'm still thinking about the
Talford case. That kid, the way his father raised him to be so quick to fight
back. The ‘kill or be killed' mentality. It's good that he's going to prison,
but how many more people are out there like that? It just seems that the world
itself has become a darker place. It gets harder and harder to see the bright
spots, to even still believe that there are many left. And I'm sure that Adam
can tell how I'm feeling. That's probably why he told me to make the deal. He
wasn't sure I could deliver a convincing enough summation," he sighed.
"But I was pretty sure I could have. If it would have made a
difference."
I was quiet for a few moments after
he had finished, not knowing what exactly to say, not sure if he was done.
"Anne?" he asked me
softly.
"I'm awake," I reassured
him. "Just thinking about what you said. Do you realize that's the most
you've shared with me about work in ages? I've felt like you were hiding
something from me, or trying to spare my feelings. Please don't shut me out
like that. I mean, I felt, well...."
"Like you were being kept ‘in
the dark?'" His dark eyes shone in the candlelight as he broke into his
trademark sheepish grin. I moved closer to him and lay my head on his chest as
he wrapped his arms around me.
"Exactly," I said softly,
trying not to laugh. "Please don't feel like there's anything you can't
tell me. I love you, Jack. There's nothing in the world that will ever change
that. I'm sorry you're feeling so uncertain right now, but I'm sure things will
get better. I can't see your giving up looking for those ‘bright spots,' no
matter how well hidden they may be."
I felt him sigh. "No, it's not
in my plans to stop anytime soon. And the fact that you believe in me, well,
that helps — more than you know."
"Good."
We were quiet for a while, both lost in our own thoughts, the silence
occasionally broken by the wail of a siren outside.
"So," I heard him say.
"Are we done playing ‘True Confessions'?" ‘Cause
I was thinking that it doesn't seem that the lights are coming on anytime soon
— and we have all these candles burning; it seems a shame to waste such an opportunity
for...."
"What exactly are you
suggesting, Counselor?" I pretended to be taken aback by his statement,
even though I knew exactly what he was getting at.
"Well," he murmured
softly. "Something like...." His voice trailed off as he bent to kiss
me passionately.
"Oh," I stammered after we
separated. "I think I get the picture."
I reached up and ran my hands
through his hair, then bent to kiss his neck and the sweet hollow of his throat
before I began to unbutton his dress shirt, smoothing my hands over his
shoulders and chest.
He pulled back for a moment,
breathless, and smiled at me. "I think we should continue this
inside." He indicated the bedroom. "That is, if you don't mind. It is
awfully dark in there."
"You know," I said, as I
stood up and held out my hand for him to join me. "For some reason, I'm
not that scared anymore."
End