Fic: Better to Light a Candle
Title: Better to Light a Candle
Fandom: Law & Order
Characters: Michael Cutter, Connie Rubirosa, mentions of Jack McCoy
Word Count: 494
Rating: PG for a dirty word! (gasp!)
Summary: post-Darkness, Cutter swings his bat around. Buuuut, not like that.
Author's Notes: Please read and comment! Thanks!
The important part was that the Conlan family was receiving justice. Never mind that father and daughter had been pitted against each other in court. Certainly never mind that he, Michael Cutter, was the one who'd pitted them against each other. He took a swing of his bat in his otherwise empty office.
He meant what he'd told Conlan in court--he answered to the victim. And yet, even with justice properly served, nothing would be right for Katie Conlan ever again. He knew it wasn't his fault. He still couldn't help thinking about it.
"The victim. Right." The defense attorney's voice dripped with bitterness after court was over.
He knew the implication. In his new spot as EADA, and with a reputation that had followed him from Nassau County, Michael Cutter was already becoming known for being even more gung-ho than "Hang'em High McCoy".
"Believe what you want," is all he muttered as he and Rubirosa gathered their papers together.
The defense attorney glared. "Seeing is believing."
Rubirosa rolled her eyes. "Someone's a sore loser," she muttered, before heading out of the court room.
Back in his office, Cutter's jaw clenched and he swung the wooden bat with force. He realized he should probably go to the cages if he didn't want to start breaking furniture.
It was true--he was competitive. He loved winning and he enjoyed the nature of the law--it allowed for interpretations and it was ever-evolving. But it was the pieces that made up the cases--the people, the evidence, the circumstances-- that drove him. Without a cause or a person to fight for, the process was nothing.
Not many people got that. They looked at him, at his win record, at his penchant for pulling out his Blackberry or trying to find new ways to look at the law, and they assumed he was just this hyper-competitive, shallow jackass.
Just then, Connie came back into the office, without knocking, nearly running into him with his bat.
"Slow down there, slugger," she smirked, going to his desk to retrieve her notebook, which she'd left behind.
He held the bat up, refraining from swinging as he glanced over in her direction.
"What're you still doing here?" she asked, taking her book. "Case is over. It's the weekend..."
Cutter shrugged. "Just...clearin' my head."
She wasn't sure how he'd do that by sticking around the office they'd both been in way too much for the last couple of weeks and she gave him a look that said so. "Mike. Go home."
"I am, after a bit," he said, now feeling foolish that she'd seen him here hanging around like an idiot.
"All right." She paused in front of him on her way out the door. "And for the record, I believed what you said. About answering to the victim."
Without waiting for him to respond, she went past him, out the door.
He watched her as she left. Well, that was something.
Fandom: Law & Order
Characters: Michael Cutter, Connie Rubirosa, mentions of Jack McCoy
Word Count: 494
Rating: PG for a dirty word! (gasp!)
Summary: post-Darkness, Cutter swings his bat around. Buuuut, not like that.
Author's Notes: Please read and comment! Thanks!
The important part was that the Conlan family was receiving justice. Never mind that father and daughter had been pitted against each other in court. Certainly never mind that he, Michael Cutter, was the one who'd pitted them against each other. He took a swing of his bat in his otherwise empty office.
He meant what he'd told Conlan in court--he answered to the victim. And yet, even with justice properly served, nothing would be right for Katie Conlan ever again. He knew it wasn't his fault. He still couldn't help thinking about it.
"The victim. Right." The defense attorney's voice dripped with bitterness after court was over.
He knew the implication. In his new spot as EADA, and with a reputation that had followed him from Nassau County, Michael Cutter was already becoming known for being even more gung-ho than "Hang'em High McCoy".
"Believe what you want," is all he muttered as he and Rubirosa gathered their papers together.
The defense attorney glared. "Seeing is believing."
Rubirosa rolled her eyes. "Someone's a sore loser," she muttered, before heading out of the court room.
Back in his office, Cutter's jaw clenched and he swung the wooden bat with force. He realized he should probably go to the cages if he didn't want to start breaking furniture.
It was true--he was competitive. He loved winning and he enjoyed the nature of the law--it allowed for interpretations and it was ever-evolving. But it was the pieces that made up the cases--the people, the evidence, the circumstances-- that drove him. Without a cause or a person to fight for, the process was nothing.
Not many people got that. They looked at him, at his win record, at his penchant for pulling out his Blackberry or trying to find new ways to look at the law, and they assumed he was just this hyper-competitive, shallow jackass.
Just then, Connie came back into the office, without knocking, nearly running into him with his bat.
"Slow down there, slugger," she smirked, going to his desk to retrieve her notebook, which she'd left behind.
He held the bat up, refraining from swinging as he glanced over in her direction.
"What're you still doing here?" she asked, taking her book. "Case is over. It's the weekend..."
Cutter shrugged. "Just...clearin' my head."
She wasn't sure how he'd do that by sticking around the office they'd both been in way too much for the last couple of weeks and she gave him a look that said so. "Mike. Go home."
"I am, after a bit," he said, now feeling foolish that she'd seen him here hanging around like an idiot.
"All right." She paused in front of him on her way out the door. "And for the record, I believed what you said. About answering to the victim."
Without waiting for him to respond, she went past him, out the door.
He watched her as she left. Well, that was something.