Carrie
Not surprisingly, Kim's little pep talk at the precinct did little to satiate my sheer unwarranted rage that afternoon. She'd been successful in calming me down at least temporarily, but for some reason unknown to me at that point, it was almost out of my control to forestall the irritability that would no doubt be in copious supply until I'd gotten either a nap, a drink, or a pink slip.
"Counselor," the guy at the front desk called as I walked - or rather stormed - back into the DA's office.
"I'm sorry, are you addressing me?" I asked tersely, though clearly I was the only counselor in sight.
"Um, yeah," he formed slowly, not understanding.
"Oh, because generally when someone has a name, I try to use it. I don't call you desk boy, do I?"
"You...don't really call me anything."
"I'll keep it that way," I groused, making my way for the stairs.
"I'm...sorry, Counselor Everett. Caroline. Um, what exactly do you want me to call you?"
I sighed, not wanting to get into this. "I want you to call me, when you have something useful to tell me. Okay?"
"I, uh...have a package."
"From who," I spat, just wanting to get back to my office and hide from any potential albatross of the human variety.
"Didn't say," he said quietly. "I could throw it out, or...or give it to the bomb squad, if you..."
"Nobody's trying to bomb me," I nearly yelled in disbelief.
"You're a prosecutor, and you're vicious. I can think of twenty people that might want to bomb you."
"Give me that," I spat, in no mood to hear about the myriad people who wanted me dead. "Do you remember who brought it?"
"A lady," he shrugged. "She was hot."
"By lady, do you mean thirty year old woman?"
He shrugged. "I'm not good with guessing."
"Thank you for your help," I said acridly, and he took it as though I'd meant it.
"You're welcome."
I just shook my head and began my ascent to my lovely fourth floor hole in the wall. As soon as I was behind that door, I could throw myself down at my desk and just revel in solitude until I left for the day. I felt as though I was chasing the one thing I so desperately needed, which was some time away from human contact - and furthermore, I didn't think anyone would object to me being alone. The way things were going for me, being around other people was just an attempted murder trial waiting to happen. But it would have been too easy if I could have gotten into the office uninterrupted. I was looking for the key to my door when I was thwarted once again by another loud "Counselor."
I threw my head back in aggravation and began to demand "What do you--"
But I shut that up real fast when I realized it was the DA addressing me. I swallowed, straightened out my jacket, and turned around slightly, my hands occupied with my key but now becoming awkward and fumbling in the formidable presence of my boss. Being near the district attorney was like driving by a state trooper. Even if you're not doing anything wrong, you feel like you are.
"What do you need, Mr. Carter?" I managed in my cordial voice.
"Make sure to be in your office an hour from now. I'm placing you with an intern."
I left my key halfway in the door, blinked several times, and turned completely to face him.
"Excuse me, Sir?" I asked slowly.
"A third year with a concentration in criminal law. She's fulfilling a clerkship under you."
"With all due respect, Mr. Carter," I trod carefully but far more firmly than I should have. "Interns aren't really my thing."
"It wasn't an offer, Counselor."
"Don't you think there's someone better for her to intern with? I have the heaviest caseload in the office, and...besides, she'll hate me."
"She won't hate you if you don't give her a reason," he promised. "And I will be checking in with her periodically to see that you're on your best behavior. I expect you to be personable, and get along. Because you're the best lawyer I have, Caroline, and your conviction rate is through the roof. It's the getting along thing that's killing you."
"I get along fine with everyone here," I completely lied.
"Mhm," he said quietly, as we both knew it wasn't true. "I was at the front desk ten minutes ago."
***
"Counselor Everett?"
I looked up from the lengthy witness statement I'd been reading over for the past hour and had to blink several times to be able to see distances again.
"Allegedly," I said flatly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Intern?" I guessed, clicking my pen shut on my desk.
She nodded, smiling awkwardly and shuffling halfway in, afraid to come all the way because the face I was making probably conveyed that I was prepared to bite. Which was accurate.
"Maggie," she introduced. "Ellis."
I nodded, not caring in the least. "Charmed."
She nodded again, shifting her weight from foot to foot and waiting for me to say something further, something which I hadn't prepared. I tried to go back to reading the statement but that was a pipe dream with someone standing over my shoulder, so I directed my attention back to her.
"You can sit," I invited apathetically, and she did so as if I'd made it an order.
"Do you..."
"Yeah, I've never worked with an intern," I finally said to put her out of her misery in this guessing game of What is Her Problem that I'd devised. "So if you have any idea of what I should have you be doing, I'm open to suggestions."
"Actually, I'm just honored to be working under you," she said quietly. "One of my law professors told us about you. I'm a fan."
"I have a fan club?" I questioned ambivalently.
She nodded. "My class studied the Collin Shaw trial."
"I could have guessed that's where the fanbase came from," I noted. "It's cool, in case you're wondering, to be in the newspaper and see yourself on TV. And Shaw put me on the map, but cases like that aren't what the job is about. You're at the DA's office to study criminal law?"
She nodded again. "Yes. I'm really excited to get a feel for a career as a prosecutor."
I laughed mirthlessly. "You want to know what it's really like being a prosecutor?"
She nodded nervously.
"It sucks."
"You...don't like it?"
"Oh no," I assured her. "No, I love it. But the pay is shit. The hours are long. All attorneys are assholes, okay, and on the hierarchy of asshole attorneys, prosecutors fall right below private defenders. I hate everyone I work with, and more often than not, I hate everyone I work for. I interned at the DA's office when I was in college, too, and I was one of thirty. And out of the thirty, you know how many actually came back after we passed the bar? One. And it was me. Prosecution is not for everyone. Barely anybody makes it."
She inhaled, taken aback by my having said more words in that one breath than I'd ever said to her up until that point.
"Do you have any advice, then?" she asked after a while. "To make it?"
I picked up my statement again, knowing I was on a time crunch. I didn't look at her as I replied, "My advice? Go down to city hall."
"City hall?" she asked. "What for?"
"To change your name," I shrugged. "Defendants aren't going to fear Counselor Maggie."
She made a face at me and how generally unhelpful I was being. "Isn't your name Carrie?"
I looked back at her, having been thwarted by her logic but not wanting to show it. "Carrie is way more serious than Maggie, okay?"
"Well I can be Margaret if I want to be serious," she pointed out.
I shrugged. "And I can be Caroline."
"But you don't go by Caroline."
"Hey, don't argue with a seasoned attorney, okay? You'll lose."
She smiled slightly for reasons unbeknownst to me because as far as I could see I'd been a complete bitch to her since she'd walked through the door.
"So do you want me to, like, get you coffee or something?"
I mulled it over, recalling my days as an intern and how I'd cursed my mentor's name every time he'd requested a coffee. I'd always silently argued that I was there to learn how to practice law, not how to pronounce the European words on the Starbucks menu.
"Actually, no. I have a better idea," I said after a while, handing her a stack of papers. "This is the affidavit of a character witness for the defense in a murder trial I'm prosecuting. Go through it, highlight what's relevant, and find all the holes you can. Take notes, and write me out the points that I can argue for trial."
I stood up and grabbed my jacket, leaving her confused in the face of the completely unexpected.
"I'm going to go get coffee."
***
"Evening, stranger," Jenn greeted, walking into my apartment at what was nearly nine o'clock, moments after I'd come home for the day. I'd been the last one at the DA's office, and that included the DA himself.
"Hey," I called as a half assed welcome from my position on the couch, flipping channels though I really hated everything on television.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," I said ambivalently, before tersely tacking on, "Other than constantly being asked if I'm alright."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"No, I am," I sighed. "I didn't mean to--"
"It's fine," she assured me. "You're stressed."
"And meanwhile, I'm taking it out on everyone else."
"Not everyone else," she tried, then smiled, "Just me."
"Don't forget Grace," I said flatly.
"Okay, yeah, that was a bit much, but you seem okay now. Was that the end of your tirade?"
I crossed my arms and stiffened slightly. "No."
"What else?"
"Well, there was the shouting match I had on the phone with my sister on the way back to work, the verbal abuse I inflicted on the front desk receptionist at the DA's office...Then I get to the office and I'm already in a bad mood because of Jackie trying to make me do shit, and Carter decides to tell me he's giving me an intern. I thought maybe we could get along but I couldn't handle it. By the end of the day she asked me what to do with a case file and I told her exactly what to do with it."
"Wait, wait, wait. What?"
"You know, shove it--"
"No," she cut me off, not wanting to hear about how I'd bullied a frightened college student. "I mean, what happened with Jacqueline?"
I sighed, not wanting to relive it but knowing that I'd left myself no choice. "She's trying to make me babysit."
That made Jenn light up in a hundred and one ways, making her about as happy as I was miserable. "Fuck yes!" she rejoiced. "The return of Blazer Baby."
"Blazer Baby is not setting foot in my apartment," I guaranteed her. "I told her no."
"As if Jackie takes no," Jenn argued, one hundred percent on target. "I bet when you told her no, she told you yes."
"Correct," I agreed. "To which I told her no again. And then commenced the aforementioned shouting match."
"You're going to end up doing it, you know."
"You know, I don't even know why she asks me to do these things. Doesn't she have any friends?"
"Because she's a vindictive snake," Jenn muttered under her breath.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean," she rephrased, realizing it was in fact my sister she was talking about. "She wants to rub it in your face that she's married and raising a precocious little miniature Jackie."
"Because I'm so dying for another Jackie in my life."
"How long does she want you to babysit for?" she inquired.
"Six to midnight on Saturday."
"Oh, come on, Carrie. You can play mommy for six hours."
"Do not use the M word around me," I warned. "You know how I've been recently."
"Okay, well at the risk of being persecuted about tires or case files, don't you want kids someday?"
"Hah," I spat bitterly. "No."
"You're lying."
"Am I? What is this someday, Jenn? I'm thirty two, I mean...tick tock."
"You could totally have kids if you wanted them."
"I suppose," I admitted. "But I don't."
"Never?"
"Never."
"Never ever?"
"Never ever ever."
"Well shit," she exhaled, realizing how hell-bent I was on this. "Thank God I don't have to worry about getting you pregnant."
"Speaking of which," I sang, hoping she'd get the less-than-subtle implication.
"Speaking of which, let's have unprotected sex?" she filled in.
"I knew you were smart."