Disclaimer: I don't own em. Go bug someone who does.

Author's Note: Something in my head in the aftermath of the 16th season finale and the bloodbath that ensued. I also need a respite from the Jack/Abbie fictions I've been doing. I couldn't find my Invaders tape as I needed it for a specific term or two. Once I do find it, I'll re-edit but it would be cosmetic at best.

Beta: PureSakuraMelody, my new beta. H.Moth has life to deal with, and the beat must go on.

Timeline: Halfway through Invaders.

Ready Go!

------------------------------------------------------

Jack imbibed another glass of scotch, his form of punishment after trudging his way home. He drank his share of pints when Claire died a decade ago, and now again with the death of another colleague, Alexandra Borgia. The E.A.D.A. at first didn't care for the new A.D.A. after getting used to Serena but she had a sense of style and grace which grudgingly occurred to him in the passage of time. While death isn't new for Jack, the manner in which she died—brutally beaten, gagged, and asphyxiated on her vomit in the trunk of a car is hard to choke down (pun not intended) as it was particularly humiliating—the end result of her being kidnapped by thugs who had scammed D.E.A. badges from a suspect of hers.

Unfortunately the leads are proving slim except for one: the owner of the D.E.A. badge, Kevin Almonte, a corrupt man who has no impetus to reveal his accomplices out of the goodness of his heart. The police are trying their best but as far as the legal system goes—the accomplices are nonexistent.

'I have looked at all the textbooks; I can't find a legal reason to elicit Almonte's testimony. I have nothing.' He gripped the glass tightly.

'I have to do something. If I don't, Alex won't get justice and the system will forget her. How can I do that? Do I dust off my rule-bending once again? What if that doesn't work?' He sipped his beverage and recalled Alexandra's parents' heartbreaking reaction. He almost crushed the glass.

'No, I have to. There is one precedent case that sounds promising but it's too risky, too easy to backfire, unless I play the judge and cards right. I know I'm good but I don't think I'm that good.'

He finished off his glass and was about pour another when he remembered Jamie chiding him about that while he moped over Claire's death. 'That's a name I haven't thought about in years. I now feel sorry for her for having to deal with my brooding.'

He sighed and put down the glass. 'Wish I could talk to her now; she helped out fine back then, didn't she? What would be the point, though? I haven't seen her in so long and I think she's a judge now, so what I have planned for Almonte might clash with her ethics. Who else could I call? Abbie, last I checked, is busy with her U.S. Attorney job and I don't know what Serena is up to.'

The E.A.D.A. suddenly felt a degree of loneliness. 'I could talk to Arthur but I don't want him to be a target of what I'm planning. With the election, he has enough to deal with.' He picked up the receiver.

'10 years ago, I wouldn't have done this. The irony. I'm turning into quite the teenage girl.'

Jack dialed up a number.

------------------------------------------------------

Jamie slept on and on—the toll a judge pays from dealing appeals, motions, and the petty squabbling of the various defendants. The last thing her body needed was a rude awakening; a pity she got it as the phone rang. Her husband hummed in his sleep.

"I'll get it," Jamie murmured. "This better be good." Her eyes attempted to focus as she stumbled around her living room for the phone and clinching her indigo robe. She turned on a lamp and saw a familiar name on her caller I.D.

'A blast from the past? What does he want?' "Hello?" she answered, groggily.

"Jamie? It's Jack," the familiar ragged voice rang on.

"Jack? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I know, I know. It's late. I wouldn't have called unless it was quite important."

"I would think so. I haven't seen you in 5 years. 'You never write, you never call…'" Jamie's lighthearted banter rose to the forefront.

"I know. You're not making this easy, are you?" Jack barbed.

"Well, you can't say you didn't have it coming," she engaged in her deadpan.

"Yeah."

"Seriously though, what is so important that makes you call at…one in the morning?" The former A.D.A. eyed a nearby wall clock.

"I don't know if you heard but my newest assistant, Alexandra Borgia, was murdered yesterday," he stated, grimly.

"I didn't know about that. I was busy with a last minute motion and I went straight home. Jack, I'm sorry," she replied with remorse.

"I am too. She was pushing this one suspect in a case—I told her to—and his accomplices kidnapped her for information which she didn't have, and beat the daylights out of her. They gagged her and left her for dead in a trunk of an abandoned car, choking on her own vomit," he was lifeless in his monologue.

"Jack…do they have the suspects in custody?" she was taken aback. While death wasn't a stranger to her (coming in the D.A.'s office after the deceased Claire Kincaid), she was shocked by the level of brutality done here. She had no clue how to form rationale for such people: a particular issue for sleepless nights of defense attorneys.

"No. Only two common first names and the only possible connection is a corrupt D.E.A. agent who isn't talking. And I have nothing to hold him on or elicit a statement."

"Rock and a hard place."

"I have to do something, Jamie. She…no one deserves this," his indignation arose.

"I know. What about the police?" the judge evoked her sympathies.

"They are working hard but they haven't found any leads. It seems hopeless."

"Are you just going to give up? Don't tell me "Hang Em High McCoy" is outdone by two apparent mouth-breathers," she softly admonished.

"No, but legally, I have no recourse."

"Again, I'm sorry. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but why call me?"

He sighed. "Not going to let me off the hook and just let a gesture be a gesture, huh?"

"After seeing you with Dressler? Not on your life," she jibed.

"Nice to see your memory is running smoothly," the E.A.D.A sniggered.

"Enough stalling, Jack, why?" she asked, soothingly.

He undid his tie and sighed again. "Because…you've seen me at my worst, and here I am again. I…don't know what to do. I don't feel vengeance, Jamie. It's not like Dressler, but I need to get justice done and legally, I can't. You know the system will forget her memory if I don't do something."

"Can't someone else do it?"

"I'm the one pushed her to flip; if it wasn't for me, she might still be alive. No, it's my crusade." Jack submerged deeper into himself.

"I know when that happens, people better watch out," she chimed in, supportive.

"Yeah."

"At least you have one good thing: you called me. A decade ago, you might not have done that."

"I know I wouldn't have."

Jamie made herself comfortable. "Do you think you'll be okay?"

"I don't know. Ask me when I get these punks."

"How are you going to do that? You said you have nothing to get that D.E.A. agent's testimony." Her legal ethics sense tingled.

'Here it comes. In for a penny…' "I have an idea from a case from the 70's. Some D.A. made a simulated trial and in the end, there was a real indictment. I forget the title at the moment."

"I remember that case. Tip of my tongue but 1:30 A.M. isn't the best time to test my memory. Didn't the judge come down hard on the D.A.?"

"He did, but the reason the simulated case exploded was the fact the D.A. didn't tell the trial judge. This is the only thing I can think of to aim a Howitzer at the man."

"I hate to disillusion you, but what judge is going to along with you? It's a one-way ticket to the Discipline Committee…again. And telling me, a judge? How smart is that?" she blasted off in her usual ire.

"I knew you were going to say that," he countered in his own deadpan.

"So why did you?"

"Because I'm not telling a judge, I'm telling a…friend?"

She was mute for a moment. "Ms. or Mrs. Borgia…?"

"Ms.," he corrected.

"Ah. I didn't think you'd fool around with a married woman. Do you have feelings…?"

"After Claire, I didn't and won't go down that road again. Tempted though I may be."

"You obviously care about her."

"I do. I didn't at first but she slowly warmed to me. I should have appreciated her more and now…" The hardened E.A.D.A. would not weep. Not after all that had been instilled into him.

"Jack. You couldn't have known she would be kidnapped. You're not a clairvoyant."

"Wish I was," he snorted.

"Haven't we been on this road before?" she pointed out.

"Yeah. You know, I remember her first case, Jamie. We had to drop the case because the numerous charges against the defendent were too weak to use. As a result, Alex, rather impulsively, promised the mother that the defendent would be severely punished in compensation. I did fulfill that promise as I arranged multiple consecutive sentences, which resulted in over a century of prisontime for the criminal, but I asked her to never again make such promises," Jack immersed himself in the heady feelings of the past, almost smiling for the first time in weeks.

"An indignation type. I remember my replacement had that as well."

His thoughts drifted to Abbie now. "Yeah, she did."

"Almost a clone, perhaps?" the judge continued in her repartee.

"No, no, Abbie was more the sarcastic teenager; Alex, the polite adult," he said, jovially.

"Are you almost smiling?" she smirked.

"No."

"I think you are."

"No," the E.A.D.A. reiterated as his face reddened.

"Yes." She would have chotled if it wouldn't wake up her husband.

"No, but it has shown me to keep my eye on the ball. Thank you, Jamie."

"No problem. Do you think your trick will work?" Her tenor shifted to a solemn one.

"I don't know. I might have one judge in mind but…" His manner also became solemn.

"You know how I hate to break ethics, but…try Wade Bookman. He cares more for justice than the rules—your kind of guy."

"Jamie, I…thank you. I hope you don't think I called you just for that," Jack replied in awe.

"If that were true, you'd have a grand total of a second to yourself before I'd knock down your door," the once A.D.A. jested.

"I can't dispute that, judge," he volleyed back without missing a beat.

"Well, it's late, and you got a big day tomorrow."

"Not before I make another phone call or two."

She yawned. "Going through another stroll down memory lane?"

"Yeah, I might call Abbie, if I can get her number. I can use her indignation right about now. Let's just say she's been there too." Jamie's yawn proved to be infectious.

"I wish you luck on that. Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"First I want to say, 'Kick butt.' And then I want to ask if you'd be up for lunch when this is over."

He nearly had a paroxysm of tittering like a schoolboy with her first statement. "Sure. Be glad to. Jamie?"

"Yes?"

"I never said this before but…thanks for being there for me with Claire. I hope I never end up in your court. Take care of yourself." He promptly hung up.

"Goodbye," her words barely escaped her tongue.

Jack inhaled deeply and stared at the phone before dwelling on the moonlight from the window and then his watch.

'I'll make the call tomorrow. I got a big day ahead of me.'

------------------------------------------------------

My first stab at Jamie; hope you like it. I might do a sequel or chapter with a phone call to Abbie if demand warrants it. Leave a review if you wish and see you in the funny papers.