In Good Hands

Chapter 1

Alan and Miranda were reviewing a file at Alan's desk when Denny came into the office.

He stood at the desk, staring at them, confused. "I came here for a reason, I'm sure of it," he muttered.

They waited.

At last Miranda said, "Is it about a case?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Is it about your penis?" Alan said, smiling.

"I don't think so." Denny looked down. "He's a little moody today, but otherwise fine." He looked back up at them.

Alan laughed quietly. Miranda shook her head.

Denny crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his chin with his fingers.

"Well, if it's not about a case and not about your penis, I can't imagine what else you would want to talk about," Alan said.

Denny's face brightened and he snapped his fingers. "I got it! What are you two doing for dinner tonight?"

Alan raked his eyes over Miranda. "We have dessert accounted for, but as for dinner we haven't made any plans."

"We haven't really discussed it," Miranda said. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Double date? With me and Joan. That new place: The, uh, flower something…Daisy."

"Tulip," Miranda said.

Alan smiled, looking at Denny.

Miranda said, "That sounds like fun. They have live music there." She turned to Alan. "What do you think? I've wanted to try that place since it opened a couple months ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Alan said. "I would have taken you."

She shrugged. "There never seemed to be a good time. But we can do that now."

"Sounds good," Alan said to Denny.

"Great! I'll make the reservations."

"I can make them for you, Denny," Miranda said, looking cautiously at Alan. "What time?"

"Is 7:30 good?"

"7:30 is perfect," Alan said. He placed a hand on the small of Miranda's back and added, "Miranda, why don't you set the reservations for us?"

"I can do it," Denny said.

Alan said smoothly, "I know you can Denny, but why should you? You're Denny Crane, you give the orders. Miranda here gets paid to do all the small insignificant things you shouldn't have to do."

"All right. I'll tell Joan. Better call her now so I don't forget." He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Joan, Denny Crane. Listen Joan, you, me, Alan and Marcie…"

Alan whispered, "Miranda."

"Hold on," Denny said, moving the phone from his mouth and asking Alan, "What's that?"

"Miranda." He pointed at Miranda.

Denny looked at her. Miranda waved.

Denny returned to Joan. "Uh, Miranda and Alan, you and me for dinner tonight at that new flower place."

"The Tulip," Miranda said.

"The Tulip," Denny replied to Joan. "At 7:30." Denny listened for a moment. "Okay. We'll meet you there." He snapped his phone shut and dropped it in his pocket. "We're on. This is going to be fun." He slapped Alan on the back. "We haven't been on a double date together in a long time."

Alan watched Denny walk away then turned to Miranda. "Joan seems to have put a certain spring in his step."

"I believe so. I'm eager to meet her. Do you like her?"

"I do."

"What's she like?"

"Vivacious, sharp, sophisticated, attractive. Everything Denny is and deserves; everything that lives up to the name: Denny Crane."

Miranda smiled at him, leaning against the desk. "She sounds lovely."

"She is. I worried about him after his last marriage to Beverly and then," he chuckled, "his disastrous relationship with Bethany…and her mother."

Miranda's eyes widened. "Don't tell me he dated both at the same time."

"No." Alan chuckled; then he thought. "Well, it's difficult to say actually. His relationship with Bethany was so tumultuous I could never tell when and where it began and ended; so there may have been a time when he was indeed dating both women."

"Sounds…complicated."

"It was," Alan laughed. "Nevertheless, he seems to have made a true come back." He paused to look at the paper in his hand, made a couple marks, then he added, "Please make sure he doesn't forget about tonight…in a way that…." He looked at her, his eyes conveying anxiety, edged with sadness, "Protects him."

"Don't worry. He's in good hands."

"Undoubtedly." He took her hand in his a placed a kiss in her palm-a move that sent chills all over her.

Miranda was at her desk, typing a document when a man approached and stood in front of her desk. Her eyes glanced up his body until they reached his boyish face. He wore glasses and had short golden-blond hair.

"Good morning. Jerry, right? I've only met you once but…"

His hand flew to his face and put a cigarette in his mouth and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "Hey there sweet cheeks, I'm here to see Alan Shore not jibber jabber."

Miranda looked at him, smiling tightly, her eyes glinting. "I think you'd better back up and try again."

"Look here doll face," he said, jerking the cigarette from his mouth and tapping on it as if tapping off ashes. "I'm on a deadline, so move those pretty lips and swinging hips…"

"Now you listen to me…" Miranda shoved back her chair and stood.

Jerry took the cigarette out of his mouth and fumbling dropped it in his pants pocket. He hopped.

He stammered. "I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm terribly sorry. I just…"

Alan peeked out his office door. "Jerry!" he said, happily, greeting him with arms open wide. He patted him on the back. "It's good to see you. Come in."

Jerry was still rambling, "I'm terribly sorry. I just…"

"Don't worry about that right now, Jerry." He led Jerry into his office and shut the door.

Jerry paced in circles, with an occasional hop for good measure.

Alan said, "I see the wooden cigarette is still getting you into trouble." Alan unbuttoned his jacket and sat on the sofa.

"Oooh," Jerry whined, shaking his head. "I've most certainly offended her..." He popped his mouth three times. "Oooh, stupid, stupid Jerry," he said, pacing in a straight line now, hopping; pacing in the other direction, hopping.

"Don't worry, Jerry, I'll smooth that over. Come, sit. Tell me what's on your mind."

Jerry sighed and sat down on the edge of a nearby chair, hands on his thighs. "You know Katie and I have been seeing each other for a while."

Alan smiled warmly. "I do. How's that going?"

"Really well, thank you for asking." He released a brief, high-pitched hum. "But I've got a problem."

"Yes?"

"I think she's expecting me to…" Another high-pitched hum, pop, pop, pop. "M-make l-l-l…" High pitched hum. He jumped up ran in three tight circles and stopped, head hanging.

"Make love?" Alan said.

Jerry nodded his head frantically.

"Oh my. Jerry," Alan laughed anxiously. "I don't think I can explain this to you. I did a horrible job explaining the kiss, remember?"

"But Alan you have been with so many women…"

"Granted, but I don't think I'm the one you really want to learn from—certainly not for your first time."

"Why not?" Jerry stepped quickly to his seat and sat down.

"Because my, uh…activities and…desires…are not what most people would likely consider…normal…for lack of a better word." Alan laughed. "You certainly don't want to model yourself after me—not in this."

"Oh." Jerry looked at his lap.

"I have to say Jerry," Alan laughed. "I'm in fact very uncomfortable having this conversation with you."

"Why? You're a worldly man."

"Be that as it may, I also have great difficulty exposing my most... intimate... self so blatantly."

"Alan you have to help me," he whined. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Alan hesitated then said, "Has she indicated that she would like to make your relationship more…physical?"

"Not in so many words, but things happen when we kiss."

"I can imagine they do."

"We kiss now—almost every night." Jerry beamed.

Alan smiled. "That's certainly a step in the right direction."

"It was awkward and scary at first, but she was so kind and patient and gentle."

"She's a good person."

"Oh, she is!" Jerry said excitedly.

Alan smiled warmly.

"I want to…" He hesitated and added shyly, "you know…but…it's so scary. What if I do it wrong?"

Alan scoffed a laugh.

"You're laughing at me."

"No, Jerry, I'm not. I promise. I'm just struck by the surreal nature of this conversation. But your question is completely normal."

"It is?"

Alan nodded. "Absolutely. I asked myself the same thing when I was 14."

Jerry's eyes widened. "You were 14!"

"I'm not proud of it, but yes. My point is that your first time with a woman can be quite...daunting," Alan said. "Especially if she's more experienced than you are. There are so many questions and fears—it leaves you quite…vulnerable. But it can be exhilarating too—not unlike the explorers in the New World, bravely trekking through vast, uncharted territory, planting flags, claiming the land as their own."

Jerry shook his head. "But I'm not brave."

"Not true. You're one of the bravest people I know, Jerry."

Jerry looked up at him. "Really?"

Alan nodded. "Truly. You struggle with this Asperger's on a daily basis; yet you manage to overcome tremendous obstacles to practice law, to have this relationship with Katie. That's incredibly brave."

Jerry smiled with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

"Have you talked with Katie about this?"

"Sort of. I mean, she knows about my…situation. She knows about my failed relationship with Leigh. But I haven't discussed my…sense of urgency, how I feel like I'm running out of time."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"I don't know," he whined. "I've watched you and Denny and other men and you make it look so easy and I guess it only serves to highlight my own awkwardness."

"Easy!" Alan laughed. "It's been anything but easy for me, Jerry. I may be able to seduce women, but that is a very different thing than being in a committed relationship with one; that is something about which I still have much to learn. Committed relationships are anything but easy. I find myself constantly floundering and faltering when confronted with the overwhelming task of satisfying only one woman for an extended amount of time-especially in matters beyond the bedroom."

Jerry purred. "Why do you think you have difficulty with women? I mean, if you have difficulty, what hope can there be for someone like me?"

Alan continued. "When you open yourself up and make yourself vulnerable you run the risk of rejection, abandonment, criticism, boredom; it's an immense amount pressure."

"Fear, you mean," Jerry said.

"Pardon?"

"You mean fear. Fear makes commitment so difficult not pressure."

Alan sat stunned for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he said quietly.

"So what is it you fear, Alan?"

Alan didn't expect that question and he was taken aback. He floundered for a moment. "I suppose I fear the same thing everyone fears when opening up to another person."

"Sometimes," Jerry said quietly. "When I look at Katie, I wonder what she sees in me. Sometimes I feel so…unworthy."

Alan's brows furrowed. Jerry's words struck a chord. He swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Jerry, you are one of the worthiest people I know. You really want my advice?"

"I do," Jerry said earnestly.

"Drink some champagne first; it can't hurt."

"Don't be flip, Alan."

"I'm not actually," Alan chuckled lightly. "As it turns out, a little alcohol might help take the edge off. And it can only work to your advantage to ply the lady with alcohol. But be careful to not drink too much because you don't want to take away all the edge-some edge is necessary for adequate performance."

"That's your advice? Alcohol?"

"Sure. The first few times at least."

Jerry sprang up and began pacing again.

"Jerry please sit. I can't talk to you when you're pacing."

Jerry hopped, walked in circles and sat down, purring.

"My advice may sound flip, but it's not; it will help you relax a little, which judging by your current demeanor, you could certainly use a couple stiff drinks."

Jerry stopped purring and popped three times.

"The rest of my advice is simply to give yourself over to your primal urges. Let nature take its course. But regardless of what happens, Katie has waited this long and if she truly cares for you, as I suspect she does, she will continue to wait."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not. Unfortunately, there are no certainties in matters of the heart. But instinct tells me the two of you will be fine."

"I want to have children someday Alan; it's a dream of mine to have a wife and kids."

"It's a good dream; one that suits you. You'll get there, Jerry." Alan leaned forward and put his hand on Jerry's arm. "Look at all you've accomplished, and all you've overcome so far. In the past you have set a goal for yourself and you have achieved it; this will be no different."

"But that took 42 years. I can't wait another 42."

Alan smiled. "Yes. But something tells me it won't take that long."

"You're a good friend," Jerry said warmly. He stood, hands on his thighs.

Alan stood too, buttoning his suit coat.

Jerry put the top of his head against Alan's shoulder. "Thank you."

Alan smiled and patted Jerry's back. "You're going to be just fine, my friend. I promise."

Jerry popped his mouth three times, walked in a small circle, then quickly to the door; he stopped abruptly and spun to face Alan. "What if she's out there?"

"Who? Katie?"

"No, your girlfriend. Alan, I behaved very badly. I called her sweet cheeks and doll face."

Alan chuckled. "I'll walk out with you, but you will need to apologize for that."

Jerry grimaced and nodded. "I'm sorry."

"While I appreciate the apology, she's the one you should apologize to." Alan put his arm around Jerry's shoulder and escorted him out.

Jerry stood in front of Miranda's desk. He looked down at his feet and quickly said, "Ms. Houston, I'm very sorry if I offended you. It was never my intention."

Miranda glanced at Alan and then back to Jerry. "Thank you, Jerry. Apology accepted. You can call me Miranda."

Jerry purred, nodding rapidly. "Thank you...Miranda. Bye Alan." He dashed away, hands on thighs.

Alan watched him, smiling.

Miranda looked at Alan, astounded. "The last time I met him, he acted very differently. What was he doing with the cigarette routine?"

Alan turned to her. "No doubt you made him more nervous and anxious than he already was. He came to speak with me about a very delicate situation. He sometimes uses the wooden cigarette, among other props and devices, to alleviate his anxiety. The cigarette brings out a rather abrasive character in him."

"Abrasive is a good word to describe it."

"Don't hold it against him; it's the nature of his particular…condition."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Nevertheless, while I sympathize with Jerry's condition, he'd better leave the cigarette in his pocket the next time he talks to me."

Alan's smiling eyes drifted over her annoyed face. "Noted; though you do have incredibly sweet cheeks." He glanced down at her bottom and started back to his office.

She wadded a sheet of paper and hit him in the back of the head with it. He paused and said without turning around, "That doesn't negate the sweet cheeks, doll face."

Back in his office he sat at his desk and placed a phone call.

"Hello, Katie. This is Alan Shore. I was wondering if you and I might meet this evening for a drink. There is something I'd like to discuss with you."

That evening Miranda appeared in Alan's office, purse and coat in hand. "Ready for dinner?"

He came from behind his desk. He brushed a wisp of hair away from her face then placed his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them. "Something's come up. I have to meet with someone."

"A client?"

"No. Jerry's girlfriend, actually, Katie Lloyd. There is something I need to discuss with her.

"I suppose you won't tell me what it is?"

"No. Jerry has entrusted me with a delicate matter and I feel compelled to intervene on his behalf; though he hasn't asked me to, it's something I feel I must do."

Miranda didn't like being kept in the dark, but she decided not to press the issue. "Okay."

He continued, "It shouldn't take long. How about you and Denny go on without me? Get the table and the wine and I'll meet you there as soon as possible." He looked at his watch and said, "It's six now. If I'm not at the restaurant by eight then please order without me."

"Call if you're going to be late." Miranda said.

"I will."

"Please hurry. I don't know if I can handle him all by myself," she chuckled.

"There are very few people whose abilities I have complete faith in, and that list is growing increasingly smaller, but I rank you among the few. I'm very confident in all your abilities."

"See you soon." She kissed his cheek and went to find Denny.

"We'll take my limo," Denny said. He looked at his watch. "But we've still got time." He pulled the stopper out of the crystal scotch decanter and poured their drinks. "Join me." He handed a glass to her and motioned to two chairs in front of the balcony doors. "You can take Alan's seat."

They sat down and Denny pulled a cigar out of his pocket. "Cigar?"

A light smile played on Miranda's lips, "Sure."

"Oh," Denny felt his pockets and looked around on the side table. "I lost my tip cutter. I think it's on my desk." He moved to stand up.

"That's okay," Miranda said, taking the cigar. "I've got it under control." She put a small portion of the tip between her front teeth and bit a circle around it until the tip came off.

Denny watched her, captivated. "I'll be damned," he said, chuckling, clearly impressed.

She dropped the tip in the ash tray. "My dad smoked cigars. Light?"

Denny struck a match and held it for her as she leaned over to draw in the flame. She puffed, stoking the cigar. Once it was lit, she sat back in the chair and exhaled into the air.

"It's almost like having Alan here," Denny said, shaking the match.

"I have nicer legs though," Miranda said, smiling.

Denny laughed. "You do."

They sat silently for a moment, looking out at the skyline, the deepening gray descending on the rose and gold tones of the sunset. Then Denny said, "So…what are your intentions with Alan?"

"My intentions?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Are you asking if I'd like to marry him someday or if I'm just out for a good time?"

"Precisely," Denny said, cutting his eyes at her. "So which is it?"

Miranda studied him for a moment then said, "Well, he asked me to be exclusive with him, but I told him I needed a little time. So, right now, we're just dating—though I suppose it's more than that. We're lovers and becoming good friends, enjoying each other's company; but it's much more significant than a fling. Is that the answer you're looking for?"

"What about marriage?" Denny grumbled.

"I'm not opposed to it…someday…but Alan seems a little gun-shy when it comes to commitment, so I'm not holding my breath."

"Depends on the person."

"That's true." She nodded. "He's committed to you, isn't he?"

"That's right," Denny said proudly.

She sipped her scotch. Denny puffed his cigar.

She said, "You're worried about him aren't you?"

Denny hedged. "Well…"

"And you're worried that I'm going to hurt him?"

"He's damaged goods."

"Aren't we all?" Miranda said, studying him through the rising smoke of her cigar.

Denny gazed at her. "I suppose you're right. But Alan is…different."

"I know," she said quietly.

"Those night terrors of his scare the hell out of me. Have you ever seen one?"

"No, but he's told me about them. I can't imagine what it must be like to go through one or to witness one. It's hard to say which would be more frightening."

Denny nodded. "I saw one a couple weeks ago. That's why I shot that kid… that smart-ass what's-his-name…Edgar."

"Ethan?"

"Yea."

"What did he have to do with Alan's night terror?"

Denny glanced at Miranda. He just realized he had said too much so he tip-toed around the subject. "I don't know exactly, not important. The point is that Alan takes all the darkness of the world into himself; he takes it personal. I think it bothers him that he can't fix all the world's problems. So then he takes it all in and..." Denny wound his hand in circles at the side of his head. "He short circuits—gets night terrors and word salad. Me, I just shoot the bad people—that's how you fix the world. No pain, no gain."

Miranda chuckled. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. So, what happened during Alan's night terror?" she said, rolling her cigar between her thumb and finger, watching Denny.

"He tried to jump out the window. He didn't hear me or see me. He was like a zombie. Terrified me." He pointed his cigar at her. "And I don't scare easy."

"I see." She took a deep drag from her cigar and blew a stream of smoke into the air.

"You do that like Alan," Denny said, smiling.

Miranda smiled at him faintly then took a sip of her scotch.

"The point is, Miranda," Denny said, "Alan needs someone he can trust—like he trusts me."

"Those are awfully big shoes to fill Denny Crane."

"The biggest. You know, it makes me sick how everybody tosses around the word "friend" so frivolously these days; they've cheapened the meaning of it; 'friend' has no meaning any more. But me and Alan, we're not like that. We understand that friendship ought to mean something. To us, friendship means something…"

"Everything," Miranda added, her voice distant; her eyes floated over the laugh lines around Denny's eyes. "It means everything."

He nodded. "You got it," he said, watching her through his cigar smoke.

Denny was amazed at how much she reminded him of Alan: how she sat with her leg crossed over the other; how she held her scotch glass; and how she propped one elbow on the chair arm and tilted her head to drag the cigar; how she sat quietly, reservedly like Alan.

"We should all be so lucky," she said somberly, blowing smoke into the ceiling. "To have even one friend like you and Alan have found in each other is a rarity—one of the world's great wonders."

"You need to know, I despise sentiment, but the truth is there will come a time when he's going to need…Alan's going to need…" Denny swallowed hard and looked away. He gazed at the lights of the buildings against the now nearly black sky. "When that time comes…he's going to need…someone… he can trust—as long as there's just one…." He emphasized his point with his cigar. "To help vanquish the darkness that sits at his door—that's what I do for him. I remind him how to laugh, how to have fun. I fend off the darkness." He finished off his scotch.

Miranda scrutinized him. "Denny," she said.

He grunted, chewing his cigar, staring out the window.

"I can't promise that Alan and I will always be together—especially given Alan's track record. In fact, sometimes I wake up and wonder: will today be the day he grows bored? Will today be the day he leaves? But I can promise that regardless of what happens to our current relationship, you will have nothing to worry about. As long as I draw breath Alan will always have someone—the one he can trust. And I defy anyone to stand between me and that promise."

"Or what?" he said teasingly.

She smiled crookedly. "I'd ask myself 'What would Denny Crane do?'"

"Then you'd shoot them." He shot an imaginary pistol at the window.

"I would, if I had to, though I'd rather not."

"I heard about the car incident." He laughed. "Hilarious. But I wouldn't have stopped at the stereo and speakers."

"I know." She laughed.

"You're going to have to man up. I tell Alan the same thing all the time."

She laughed again.

Denny checked his watch. "Hey, we'd better go. Don't want to keep Joan waiting. Limo should be out front by now."

They gathered up their things and headed toward the elevator.

"You know how to shoot a gun?"

"Sure do. I come from a long line of gun owners. My dad and I shot targets together all the time. I can shoot a soda can off a fence post at 30 paces with a 9mm Beretta."

"I'll be damned. Really?"

"Sure can."

"You want to go paintballing sometime?" He pushed the elevator button.

"I'd love to."

"I need a good shot, a sniper, on my team. If I had a sniper, I could take out that old numb-nuts Crowley and his whole team. Alan tries, but he's not very good at a distance. Don't tell him I told you."

They stepped into the elevator.

"I promise. I won't say a word," Miranda said. The elevator doors closed.