DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Will never be mine. Just took them out for a show and returned them to Mr. Wolf's care. This story is set after the events of "Ain't No Love", and Arthur's firing of Serena.
LYRICS: included are from The song The Moon and St. Christopher, from Mary Chapin Carpenter's Shooting Straight in the Dark album.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

The Moon and St. Christopher
By Fewthistle


Now I've paid my dues cause I have owed them
But I've paid a price sometimes
For being such a stubborn woman
In such stubborn times.

Serena walked slowly down the deserted hall toward the copy room. Everyone was gone now. The other lawyers, the secretaries, Arthur, Jack. She was certain that she had seen a few stray paper boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner behind the copier. It wasn't like she had much in her office anyway. Well, more like a cubicle, considering she shared it with the coffee machine. A few things on her desk, the Buddha, the red Chinese vase that Sharon had brought her from Hong Kong a few years ago. A couple of coffee mugs, some books. Not much to show for four years of her life.

She grabbed the two boxes, grateful that they still had their lids. Serena maneuvered the hall on autopilot, her mind still replaying the conversation with Arthur. She should have seen it coming. She should have known that after she walked out on Jack and left him to finish the Kaplan trial on his own that this might happen. So why did she feel like she just walked into the funhouse to find the floor tilting out from under her, and her reflection warped beyond recognition in the grainy mirrors?

Setting the box carefully on the desk, she started packing up her things, each piece that she settled carefully in the box, leaving behind volumes of empty space. Ten minutes, that was all that it took to clear out the last traces of ADA Southerlyn. She was just Serena now, unemployed, still a bit shell-shocked, and yet, strangely peaceful.

But now I've grown and I speak like a woman
And I see with a woman's eyes
And an open door is to me now
Like to the saddest of goodbyes
When its too late for turning back
I pray for the heart and the nerve

Serena pushed open Jack's door and stepped into his office one last time, the ever present odor of old, musty leather, wood polish, and traces of Jack's cologne causing her breath to catch for a moment in her throat. So much time spent in here. Pieces of herself she couldn't get back, even if she'd wanted to.

She trailed her hand down the cool wood of the table. If she ever sat here again, it would be on the other side, as defense counsel, the enemy. No more conspiratorial looks from Jack, no more guarding the rights of the people. No more feeling like Hector defending Troy, protecting the beauty of the law, its simplicity, and its virtue. Illium had fallen.

She was Cassandra now, her predictions unheard, her search for sanctuary ignored. She had been found by the Greeks and left naked against the elements. She had tried to warn him, to tell Jack that what he was doing would raze the walls of their city. He hadn't listened.

Moving across to the window, she pulled back the blinds, the light from the door reflecting her image back at her in the cold glass. The woman she saw bore little resemblance to the girl who had walked into this office once upon a time, eager to battle any who threatened the sanctity of justice. Below, the city lay in ice and the gleam of the three quarter moon. From this height, the metropolis looked tranquil, the street below quiet, a single car making its way along the shiny black and yellow river.

She thought about leaving Jack a note, but really, what could she say? Goodbye? Thanks for everything? Why the hell didn't you stick up for me? Sorry I couldn't be what you wanted? Somehow, she didn't believe her apology would be accepted. Too little, too late, for both of them.

Time to go. Time to pick up her box, put on her coat, and go home. Time to begin all over again. She left the door to Jack's office open, the pale yellow light spilling out into the hall. She slipped on her coat, collected the box from her desk, and made one final trek down the empty hallway, pushing the down button awkwardly with her free hand. Glancing back, Serena took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator, the door sliding silently shut, blotting out the shallow light of the moon that trickled across the floor.

And I rely upon the moon
I rely upon the moon
I rely upon the moon and St. Christopher
And I rely upon the moon
I rely upon the moon
I rely upon the moon and St. Christopher
To be my guide

The End

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