Under Her Skin 23
Under Her Skin 23
Title: Under Her Skin 23
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Mean 5.17
Author's Note: Yep, I'm evil. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: See chapters 1-20. They cover it.
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Detective Elliot Stabler stood in the middle of the street, watching his partner storm off into the night; he knew her, knew that she needed time to herself, time to absorb the emotions that were currently tearing her apart.
Knew that he couldn't do anything for her at the moment, hated how helpless that made him feel, decided to try talking to the source of his partner's tumultuous emotions.
He stood there just a moment longer, heaved an exasperated sigh, then turned to look for Casey.
Who was hailing a cab.
Shit.
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"Casey!"
Hearing Elliot call her name, she paused and turned around.
Turned around to see him running towards her, and as she leaned casually on the open door of the cab, he came to a breathless stop in front of her.
Once he caught his breath he smiled, held out his hand, offered to give her a ride home.
She looked at his outstretched hand, considered just taking it and going with him; remembered, painfully, that first time he had given her a ride, all those months ago.
The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, the way that Olivia had reacted to her intrusion of their crime scene, their investigation, their lives; tears sprung to her eyes at the poignant memory, and as she blinked back the moisture, she respectfully declined.
Seeing her sudden tears, he continued, "C'mon counselor, it looks like you could use a friend."
She seriously considered the offer for a moment, thought about how nice it would be to share the burden of her despair; noticed that he was grinning, that sweet little half grin of his that told her that he knew she was hurting, that he wanted to help to make it better.
Right now, the last thing she wanted was anyone's pity, especially that of anyone associated with Detective Olivia Benson.
Resolve firmly back in place, she replied, "Maybe I do, detective, but you're not my friend."
Hurt, he dropped his hand, said, "That's not true Case, you know that."
"I-" she started, faltered, added, "I just need to be alone right now."
Trying to stall her exit, thinking that he could get her to open up if he could just get her to go back inside and talk, he asked, "Hey, what about Jenny? Don't you want to wait for her?"
"Why would I do that?"
Her tone of voice implied that that was the most supremely absurd question she'd heard all day.
Stunned, he blinked, responded, "Well, aren't you two uh, you know, um..." he faltered, trailing off as no actual question was forthcoming.
Realizing that Olivia had apparently clued Elliot in on her opinions, Casey rolled her eyes, got into the cab, said, "Good night, detective."
"Wait, Case, I-"
She answered by slamming the door shut.
Jaw dropping, mouth still wordlessly working, he stood in stunned disbelief as the taxi pulled away.
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"Huang."
"George? It's Casey."
Doctor George Huang blinked, looked at the clock, realized it was well after midnight.
Smiled, sadly, because he'd been expecting this call.
"Hi Casey," he replied, in that damned soft voice of his, the one that he used when conducting interviews for the Special Victims Unit.
The one he used when he worked with Olivia.
Damn, Casey thought, I can't do this.
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"I'm sorry I woke you up, I, uh, I just-I'm sorry, I know my timing sucks, but I was wondering if that offer was still good, you know, about -" She paused, collected herself as the tears once again threatened, continued, "Listen, I thought I wanted to-"
She trailed off, tried again.
"I mean, I thought I was ready to-"
Took a shuddering breath, said, "Look, I wanted to talk, I did, but now-"
Sensing her hesitation, he interjected, "But now that you're hearing my voice on the phone you're thinking of me as a colleague, not as a psychiatrist, and you're torn. Casey, listen to your little voice."
Timidly, she asked, "What little voice?"
"The one that's telling you that I can't be your doctor as well as your co-worker, right?"
When silence was her only answer, he prodded, "Right?"
Damn, Casey thought, he was good.
"Right," she ruefully admitted.
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"Casey, it's ok; if you have any doubts, whatsoever, about maintaining your professional relationship with me, then you *should* see somebody else. If I recommend a colleague of mine, an excellent psychiatrist that knows a thing or two about our line of work, will you go and see her?"
Casey, in a small voice, replied, "Yes, I will."
Hesitated, added, "George?"
"Yes Casey?"
"When you say that she's familiar with our line of work, does that mean that she......I mean will I......." frustrated, feeling a bit foolish, Casey couldn't finish the question.
Huang, seeing where her mind was going, said, "If you're worried that you might come across her, eventually, regarding a case, I can't guarantee that it will never happen."
Gave her a moment to absorb this information, and at her silence, continued, "However, no matter who you choose as your therapist, eventually you're probably going to see them either with you or against you in court anyhow."
"Occupational hazard, I suppose, hey?" Casey replied.
"Occupational hazard," Huang agreed, then suggested, "but you can't let what if's stop you from taking care of yourself."
"Ok Doctor, you're right, and I really do need to talk to somebody; let's set it up, as soon as possible."
"It's a little late now, so I'll give her a call tomorrow. Her mornings are usually free, she uses them to catch up on paperwork and prepare for her afternoon sessions, so she'll probably take you as soon as I talk to her. How does nine work for you?"
Silence.
"Not a morning person, huh?" he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Not so much," she honestly replied, "I was thinking more around lunch time?"
"Sure counselor, I'll let her know. I'll send her information over to your office in the morning."
"Thanks, I'll look for it."
"You're welcome, Casey. And Counselor?"
"Yeah?" she replied.
"Try to get some sleep."
"You too," she said, then exhaustedly hung up the phone.
Pulled out the Yankees tee, put R.Kelly on repeat, and cried herself to sleep.
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Meanwhile, across town, Olivia was trying very hard to ignore the persistent blonde shadow that had followed her out of the bar.
Was failing, miserably, as the beautiful young woman refused to go away.
Sighed, spun around, said, "What!"
It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
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Jenny, suddenly very afraid of the volatile detective, seriously considered running away; remembered, quite vividly, the devastation on her friend Casey's face.
Stood a little straighter, mustered up all of her courage, prepared to once again involve herself in the tangle that was the counselor and the cop.
"Look, Olivia, I-"
"You're feeling guilty," Olivia interrupted, "because you betrayed your gi-"
Couldn't bring herself to say it, struggled to finish the thought, strangled out the word, "...friend."
When the bartender didn't reply, she continued, "I'm sorry that I came between you two and I promise, no matter what, that I will never ask you to betray her again. Ever, ok?"
At this she looked the other woman directly in the eye, held her gaze, refused to break it until she gained a barely perceptible nod in response.
"So just run along now, go back and tell her whatever it is that you have to tell her to fix things between the two of you, and just leave me the hell alone."
Wow, Jenny thought, as she suddenly wanted very badly to console the tortured detective.
"Whoa, Olivia, hold on there, ok? First of all, Casey's a much more loyal friend than you give her credit for; nothing you do, or for that matter I do, could make her turn her back on me, ok?"
Seeing Olivia wince, Jenny gentled her tone and added, "Or you."
Olivia shook her head no, couldn't possibly accept that she was worthy of the counselor's loyalty, said "You'll see, Jenny, when she finds out the truth."
"I already told her, while you were outside, that we met when you came into the bar looking for answers about her erratic behavior."
Olivia's eyes widened, her heart beating painfully in her chest, as she responded, "And?"
"And," Jenny continued, "As far as she knows, you were told that she was upset regarding something from her past, but that she was in good hands; I also threw in that I promised to call you if she was in any danger, that we pretty much hadn't spoken again since that promise was made, and that we both did it because we cared about her."
At the detective's look of relief, she added, "I just wanted you to hear that from me first, you know, in case you felt the need to go and find her and spill our collaborative guts tonight, ok?"
Olivia, stunned beyond belief that Jenny felt the need to warn her tonight, asked, "Why would I? And aren't you going to be there if I do show up?"
Jenny smiled, said, "Why would I be?"
Olivia wordlessly shook her head and shrugged in an "I don't know" gesture.
"Can I make a suggestion?"
Olivia, curious, replied, "I guess."
"Go talk to her Olivia."
Olivia, who suddenly looked terrified, shook her head vehemently in response.
"Sorry, Jen, but no way. I, uh, I don't do girl talk very well."
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Sizing her up, wondering how far was too far, the bartender decided to just go for it.
"Hey, a few months ago, there was a press conference involving a missing boy, shot right outside of his home. Do you remember that?"
Olivia searched her memory, recalled the case, remembered that she had been driven to distraction because the ADA had taken that day off.
"Yeah," she started, "the parents blamed each other, but it turned out to be a mentally ill stockman from the mother's grocery store. He, uh, he thought the little boy was his son, Tate. Why?"
"Because," the bartender replied, "I just realized that you looked familiar that night you showed up on Casey's doorstep, and now I understand why."
Olivia wanted to shake the shit out of the damned woman, instead shoved her hands deeply into her pockets, said, "AND?"
"And," Jenny took a large step back, "Casey was at the bar that day, having lunch with me when the the press conference broke into whatever it was that we were watching. I remember thinking, at that time, that she seemed a little "too" interested in the press conference."
Olivia, unsurprised, retorted, "That's because it was her job to prosecute it."
Thought, inwardly, now I know who was comforting her that day.
Wished it had been some faceless boyfriend, somebody she could easily and gleefully hate.
Damn this woman, she thought, for being so ridiculously likeable.
"No, not interested in the story," Jenny supplied, "but rather, interested in whoever she saw on the screen that day."
At Olivia's confused expression, the bartender gently supplied, "Look, just take it easy on her, ok? What you did tonight, with that other detective? That hurt her."
Olivia rolled her eyes, aggravated at the insinuation, replied, "Why would it?"
Held her breath, waited for the reply, was shocked at the answer.
"Because she doesn't like seeing *you* hurt."
Ouch.
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Stunned, the detective just stood there for a few moments, trying to absorb the implications of that little exchange, watching Casey's friend disappear into the night.
Wondered, cluelessly, what in the hell she was going to do next.
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Coward that she was, Olivia went straight home, where she took a quick shower before crawling into bed.
She didn't dare admit, even to herself, that she was trying to erase any trace of anyone or anything that had come into contact with her that evening.
Because if she admitted that, she would have to admit that she was trying not to taint the faint trace of Casey that was still clinging to the shirt, still wrapped around her pillow.
Settling in for a much needed night's sleep, she pulled the enticing garment to her face.
Sighed, defeated, as she pictured Jenny.
Growled, frustrated, as she remembered the bartender's words.
Because she doesn't like to see you hurt.
Grrrr.
Wadded up the damned garment, tossed it across the room, rolled over and passed out before it landed.
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Reaching into his pocket, Elliot realized that he'd left his keys at the bar, so he turned around and went back in.
Was shocked when he returned to his barstool and saw a new face behind the bar; looked around, searched for the blonde, was apparently quite obvious about it, as the new bartender got right into his face, asking, "Can I help you friend?"
Elliot backed up a step, considered his options, decided to mess with the guy a little bit.
"Um, yeah. Where, ah, where did Jenny go?"
The bartender leaned forward, increasingly irritated, replied, "Look buddy, she's taken, so back off. Ok?"
Elliot, amused, replied, "Yeah, I know. I'm Detective Elliot Stabler, a friend of Casey's. I just wanted to tell her good night."
That oughta do it, thought Elliot, as he dropped the name of Jenny's significant other.
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Imagine his surprise when Steven smiled, stuck out his hand, said, "In that case, I'm Steven, her fiance. She had an errand to run, but she'll be right back."
Stabler's eyebrows damn near shot right off of his head, as he managed to croak, "Fiance?"
Steven looked around, dropped his voice to a whisper, admitted, "Well, boyfriend, actually, but I escalate my status to fiance when we're here, ya know?"
"Oh yeah, Steve, I know," he replied, as he picked up his keys and turned to leave, "I gotta get home to my wife. Just tell her I said goodbye, ok?"
"Ok."
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The following morning Elliot and Olivia were called out on an early assignment, a dead teenager found in the trunk of an abandoned car, which was on the street and covered with snow and ice.
It was early as hell, cold as hell, and Olivia felt like hell; a hell, she mused, that was made even worse by the fact that it was a homicide, thus she'd have to face Warner.
A perfectly rotten beginning to a perfectly rotten day, Olivia thought, as she rubbed her hands together and approached the scene of the crime.
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Stopped short, as she recognized Cardillo, Melinda's assistant, processing the evidence.
Hurt, at a loss for words at the idea that Warner had sent out the assistant to avoid seeing her, Olivia unconsciously rubbed her eyebrow, a familiar gesture that signalled to her partner that she was upset.
Seeing her tell and the hurt on her face, hoping that a little humor would help, he quipped, "Notice how Warner always sends out the assistants when it drops below twenty?"
Olivia smiled and shook her head in agreement, words still failing her, as he continued, "Cardillo, where is she?"
"Probably drinking coffee and having a danish in her office."
Looking accusingly at Olivia, he continued, "She doesn't *like* the cold."
Ouch, thought Olivia, who snapped, "Yeah, who does. What've we got?"
Wow, thought Elliot, I gotta find out what happened with those two outside last night.
Then they were into the work, into the crime scene walkthrough as all thoughts of their personal business were pushed aside, unfortunately informed that the dead girl's father had reported her missing that morning.
Yep, this was going to be a rotten day.
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Casey entered the therapist's office, more than a little nervous at the prospect of telling anyone, even a doctor sworn to keep her confidence, the truth of what she'd been experiencing.
Sat down after the initial introductions, looked nervously around the room, waited for the doctor to begin.
"Tell me why you're here Casey."
Taking a deep breath, the counselor replied, "I'm not really sure."
The doctor simply looked at her, disbelief clearly evident on her face, as she responded, "I think you do. Now, just start at the beginning, and we'll work forward from there."
"Ok," Casey replied, then started, "when I was in college I met this guy..."
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An hour later Casey, tears of relief streaking her face, couldn't stop thanking her psychiatrist.
The doctor, clearly taken with the fascinating young ADA, insisted that she was just doing her job, and that no thanks were necessary.
She felt that Casey needed some time to absorb her advice, to try putting it into practice, and to see how she felt about her coping strategies from there.
"Ok," the young woman readily agreed, promised to see her on Friday after work, and headed back to her office.
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"Huang."
"Hey, it's me."
He smiled, knowing full well that there was a purpose behind this call, gently reminded her, "You know you can't tell me what went on in session today."
"I know," she replied, "and I'm not going to tell you a thing. But George?"
"Yes?"
"Do you know a detective by the name of Ben Oliver?"
Intrigued, he replied, "No, but that's an interesting name. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that-"
"Yeah, me too," she interjected, continued, "I think it would be wise if you sat Detective Benson down, had a little talk with her. Don't you think?"
"Yeah", he replied, "but-"
"But what?"
"But," he said, "I already sensed that something was wrong with her, and tried to get her to open up. When she wouldn't talk to me, I recommended that she come and see you. However, she uh," he paused, trying to gauge her reaction, "she said that she'd rather talk to me if she needed counsel. Strange, don't you think?"
She merely sighed, rolled her eyes, replied, "No, not at all. She's different than most, I'm afraid, and I don't think she's prone to the whole separation of work and therapy hang up that most of our people suffer."
He didn't buy it, not for one second, but filed that thought away for later.
"Ok, I'm going to talk to her tomorrow, see how it goes."
He paused, debated asking, couldn't; was saved from his dilemma by her next statement.
"Don't worry about Casey, George, she's going to be ok; she's a lot tougher than you think she is, and I think she was just a little overwhelmed, just needed an anonymous ear to bend, ok?"
"Ok."
Relieved, he thanked her, then hung up and prepared for tomorrow's ambush of Detective Olivia Benson.
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ADA Casey Novak felt lighter, better than she had in a long time, as she left the doctor's office that day.
Once the whole story had been laid out in front of her, the illness and abuse, the night with the cops and Charlie; the breakup and disappearance, his reappearance.
The disruption it had caused in her new life, the deceptions and betrayals of her close friends in response to that disruption, her over the top reaction to the protective actions of those who cared the most about her.
She'd realized that, indeed, she may have overreacted; recognized that it only hurt, so much, because she had been projecting feelings that couldn't possibly exist onto an unwilling participant.
Olivia.
Rather, Ben, Olivia's male alter ego.
Once she'd talked it out, she'd realized that Olivia's brooding, secretive qualities had attracted her, more because of the resemblance to Charlie's need for her help than because of any truly physical reason; it made sense, after all, that Casey would be drawn to a damaged soul.
Add the information that the captain and the other guys at the sex crimes team had given her, regarding Olivia's origin and her past, it was perfectly clear that Detective Benson was the most damaged of all of the people in her new world; naturally, the woman in Casey that had loved and wanted to fix Charlie was drawn to that, her desire to "fix" Olivia filling the void where her ex-fiance's problems used to be.
After all, they were, both, obviously straight.
Obviously.
Once she'd accepted this as the truth, the truth had set her free.
Her mission, over the next few days, was to let go of the past, to start over again as Olivia's friend, and to see if it helped to ease any of the lingering hurt that remained.
Positive in her conviction that this would work, confident in the therapy that her new doctor had provided her, she damn near skipped the whole way back to her office.
And if she avoided the precinct, like the plague, it was only because she had actual work to do; not, she convinced herself, because she knew that these theories would fly out the window the minute she saw the detective in person.
Not at all.
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The following day, following a break in the Emily Sullivan case, Huang was summoned by Cragen to provide a profile on the nature of their murderer.
While he had the Captain on the phone, he explained his concerns regarding the mental state of Detective Benson, and convinced the older man that his detective needed to be evaluated.
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Dissecting the anatomy of the murder, Cragen asked Huang, "Under what circumstances would Miss Teen USA commit a violent murder with sexual undertones?"
"That depends. She might have been sexually abused herself, or psychotic."
The doctor noticed Olivia, clearly agitated, flipping through files and charts as though she weren't even in the room.
Damn, he thought, she needs to let it out.
He then turned to answer Elliot's question, finishing his statement with, "Girls typically attack within tightly-knit friendships."
Olivia, suddenly paying attention, gripped her pen tightly; held it in her fist under her chin, shifted the fist as she crossed her arms in a defensive posture, interjected, "Well, that's definitely been my experience."
She sat up straighter in her chair, continued, "The people that have made me feel the worst were always my best friends."
She thought of Casey, Melinda, Rebecca......and it showed, the torment clearly written on her haunted face.
"It's called relational aggression," Huang explained soothingly, "boys are socialized to express their anger, girls are socialized to be nice."
He shook his head as he talked, looking sympathetically at Olivia, who added, "In other words, don't tell your friend you're mad at her," emphatically shook her head, "just get everybody else to hate her."
Wow, he thought, she's close to the edge.
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As soon as they'd arrested the trio of high school murder suspects, Huang gently pulled Olivia aside, stating that they needed to have that talk, now.
She bristled at the suggestion, claimed she was fine, sat at her desk and dismissed him.
Looked back up at the sound of her Captain's voice.
"Liv, you need to talk to Huang. That's an order."
Rolled her eyes, said, "Fine!", threw her pen and walked towards the Captain's office.
Cragen, undeterred, said, "Doctor, feel free to use my office."
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"Olivia, tell me why you reacted the way you did this afternoon, when you stated that your best friends always hurt you."
Olivia's temper flared, briefly, before she forced it back down.
"I don't know where to start, doc, it's too complex," she admitted, more than a little lost.
"Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me what triggered this latest round of emotions, the ones that urged you to react to this afternoon's discussion the way you did."
Defeated, drained, she began, "well, it all started while I was in the Academy; my roommmate...."
After she'd spilled it, the whole story, and had received the compassion and understanding of another human being, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
The whole story, actually, minus the fact that she was madly in lust with ADA Casey Novak; instead, she'd pulled out the name of the only other ADA she'd ever dated, Jeff York. It was just easier, explaining Casey as a man, than admitting her attraction for another woman.
After all, emotions were emotions, jealousy was jealousy, and did it really matter if it were applied to a man or a woman?
She'd worked Casey into the saga in Elliot's role, the friend who knew what was going on from both points of view yet didn't interfere too much, but often sided against her on behalf of York.
Her assignment, for the next couple of days, was to let go of the past, to embrace the present, and to work towards a stress free future.
The future, that started with seeing Casey as a friend, and treating her like one.
Simple enough, she thought, as she headed back to interrogate the three mean little girls that had apparently murdered their best friend.
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Simple enough, she thought, until she saw Casey in the flesh; right there, in front of her, looking devastatingly adorable in, of all things, a lime green jacket.
Damn, she thought, that woman looks good in *anything*.
Putting her best foot forward, Olivia allowed her reaction to show in her smile, greeting the counselor as she said, "I'll take Brittany. Who do you want?"
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Right now? You, Casey thought, lost in the wonder of Olivia's heart-stopping smile.
She really doesn't smile enough, Casey mused, then mentally chastised herself for allowing that train of thought.
Fought, to stand on knees that were suddenly weak.
Weak, she knew, because of Olivia's radiant smile.
Projecting my ass, she thought, replied, "I'll take Kressler's client. I really hate that guy, so this ought to be fun."
Smiling right back at Olivia, she prayed that the detective couldn't see how unsteady she really was, then turned and went into the room.
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Elliot, enjoying the interaction, thought that he really *should* enlighten his partner on the nature of the counselor's relationship to her bartender.
Decided against it, thought he'd better make damn certain that Jenny wasn't playing for both teams before he made that proclamation, rationalized that maybe the bartender's "secret" relationship with the counselor was the reason she wouldn't marry the guy.
Also thought, that quite possibly, the source of Casey's downward spiral into depression was the fact that she had discovered that her girlfriend still liked to play with boys.
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The following day, as Casey diligently prepared for the trial, Olivia was sitting in her stylist's chair.
"So, are you liking the length?" Lara asked, as she washed her client's hair in preparation for the cut.
"Yeah, I am, so can we just get rid of the dead ends?"
"Sure," Lara replied, then asked, innocently, "so have you seen ADA Novak lately?"
Olivia, suspicious, replied, "Yes, we work together. Why?"
"Nothing, really, it's just...."
"What?"
Lara looked away, grinned, composed herself and continued, "She was *so* much fun when we met her, I was just wondering if you could talk her into going out with us again."
Olivia, once again swearing that she was going to find a new stylist, curtly replied, "I don't socialize with co-worker's Lara, that just makes trouble at work."
Lara, undaunted, said, "You hang out with Elliot."
"That's different."
"Why?"
Olivia rolled her eyes, stated, "He's my partner."
Considered the discussion over.
Lara, however, wasn't accepting Olivia's standard discussion ending statement, responded, "Yeah, so what? Faith is my partner Olivia, and my co-worker, my friend, my-"
Olivia cut her off right there, demanding, "What does any of that have to do with me?"
More than you think, she thought, replied, "Liv, look, she's just a lot of fun, and if you actually give her a chance, I think-"
Lara instantly shut up the moment that Faith, her partner in every sense of the word, appeared.
"Lara, please, stop harassing the detective. She's here for a haircut, not an interrogation, and if she doesn't feel comfortable in a social setting with your buddy the counselor, then you have no business asking her to set up an outing with us."
Olivia, guilty at the use of the word "outing", tried her best to disappear.
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Faith, of course, would have none of that.
"Olivia, dear, would you like to try something new?"
The detective, suspicious of the tone, asked, "I don't know, what is it and why?"
"Oh detective, calm down," she joked, then explained, "I'm thinking of expanding a little, adding a coffee bar to our shop, but Lara and I are having a slight disagreement over the menu; so, my question for you, is would you be willing to help us decide?"
Skeptical, Olivia asked, "Decide what?"
Faith grinned, asked, "How do you like your coffee?"
"Extra cream and sugar, a little bit of actual coffee in there somewhere," Olivia replied, relaxing in her chair and adding, "oh, and vanilla flavoring is a must."
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Olivia, who was wondering why she hadn't noticed before how charming Lara's partner truly was, was stumped when Faith grinned broadly at her, asking, "Why so much cream and sugar?"
The detective had obviously never given much thought to her preference before, replied, "I don't know. I guess because I like it sweet and creamy, yet cool enough to drink as soon as I get it."
"Aha!" Faith exclaimed, shot a triumphant look at Lara, continued, "would you be willing to keep an open mind about trying something a little different?"
Olivia, intrigued, said, "Sure, I'll try anything once."
Faith grinned, thinking that Olivia had just spoken volumes, turned and went to prepare the drink.
Soon returned with a styrofoam cup, reminded Olivia to keep an open mind, then handed the drink to the detective.
Olivia took a tentative sip, frowned.
Remembered to keep an open mind, took a larger sip.
Smiled, that incredible, all-encompassing smile, and greedily finished the drink.
Seeing her orgasmic expression, Lara admitted defeat.
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"Oh, my gawd Faith, that is seriously the *best* thing I've ever put in my mouth!"
Lara guffawed and spun away, thinking about all of the wonderful things the detective had yet to put into that mouth, as Faith replied, "I know, right? It's iced coffee, Olivia, an inspiration I got from watching a client of mine dump more creamer than coffee into her cup. So, do you think I have a winner?"
Olivia's smile was all the answer she needed.
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Olivia was just finishing paying for the haircut when Faith, once again, approached her.
"You know Olivia, I can't take all the credit for the iced coffee idea, the coffee chains have been doing it for years."
Olivia sized the other woman up, wondered how well she actually knew the ADA, replied, "That may be true, Faith, but you're the one that got me to try it."
Faith, seizing the opportunity, said, "Just remember Olivia, that life is a lot like that coffee. Just when you think you like it one way, someone like me comes along and makes you realize that what you've always believed to be the best isn't necessarily the best for you."
Olivia nodded, responded, "Are you going to add philosopher to your letterhead?"
Faith smiled, replied, "See you in eight weeks detective."
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"Novak, sex crimes."
"Casey, Lionel Granger. Do you have time for breakfast?"
What a rotten way to start a perfectly good Monday, the counselor thought, replied, "Sure. When and where?"
She wrote down the name of the restaurant, promised to meet him there in twenty minutes, called a cab.
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Of course, Casey should have known that Granger was going to ask for a deal for his client.
"Sorry Lionel, but I've got forensics and two eyewitnesses that say that your client is my murderer. No deal."
The waiter, smirking, arrived with the bill; Casey, noticing, asked herself why in the hell she would've agreed to meet him on his turf, in what was obviously his regular restaurant.
Lack of caffeine, she decided, and it *was* before noon.
Disgusted, having nothing more to say to the sleazy defense attorney, she stood and left.
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"Buy you lunch, Counselor. I'll even let you talk me into a plea deal. In exchange, you get my client's testimony."
Casey, irritated, continued to eat the Chinese that she'd had delivered for lunch.
Annoyed, stirred the noodles, remembered the last time she'd had Chinese at her desk.
Channeled that annoyance at Lionel Granger now, stating, "The sworn statement of a murderer. *That's* tempting."
Went back to stirring her lo mein.
"No jury's going to convict Andrea and Paige without direct evidence," he started, helped himself to a seat and continued, "you'll need Brittany to testify against them."
She shot him her famous Novak "I'm sorry, were you still talking?" look.
"Look," he reasoned, "you've got two so-called normal girls who sat back and allowed Emily Sullivan to be murdered. My client's off her nut. What's their excuse?"
As though she were talking to a slow child, she replied, "That's why they're being charged for their crimes."
Stir.
"You've got a weak case at best," he insisted, "one sympathetic juror will tank it."
Seeing her obvious lack of interest, he stood, walked toward the door, turned back for one last try, "They're us, Casey. Our sisters, our daughters, our high school girlfriends. No one wants to believe-"
Our high school girlfriends? What the hell was he implying?
"*No*, they're monsters," Casey interrupted, "they're mean, vicious little girls who think they can do whatever they want, and up until now they've gotten away with it. Not anymore. There's no deal."
Stir.
Accepting defeat, he turned as the attorneys for Andrea and Paige knocked on the ADA's door.
"Well, maybe these two will change your mind."
He then opened the door, waited for them to enter, parted with, "I'll be at my regular table."
As he exited, she didn't wait for the obvious questions from the other two that had entered, but rather jumped right in with her own question.
"Motion to sever, I assume?"
Was surprised to hear Riff reply, "We're happy with one trial for both our clients."
Wasn't surprised to hear Kressler add, "Since you can't prove intent, it'll be a short trial."
Aha.
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Unfortunately, Casey needed advice, pretty badly, before facing Petrovsky in chambers against Kressler and Riff; unwilling to face her detectives just yet, she turned to EADA Elizabeth Donnelly.
"Night of the Living Dead?" Donnelly had asked, to which Casey had exploded in a fit of laughter.
"Pretty much," answered the ADA, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "but how do I discredit their theory?"
"It's going to depend on the judge, I'm afraid," Donnelly replied, "And I'm inclined to believe that Petrovsky's going to leave that up to the jury to decide."
"Dammit!" Casey exploded, "This is crap, Liz, you know that, right?"
Donnelly, who'd always carried a torch for the fiery young ADA smiled, replied, "It is crap, Casey, and I think the jury will see that; all you have to do, Counselor, is find one shred of evidence that proves that these two girls have no remorse about the murder."
"How do I do that?"
"You'll find a way," Elizabeth replied, "just have a little faith."
Wondered if she'd ever get up the nerve to just ask the younger woman out, smiled as her young protege walked out the door.
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Casey used the zombie reference in chambers, got a smile out of the judge, ultimately accepted that Petrovsky was going to accept the defense.
With a heavy heart, she called Granger to make a deal.
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The following day, Novak got her chance to shoot down the mob mentality defense, which she was certain she could accomplish, if she could just keep the girls on the stand long enough to exploit the holes in their story.
Olivia showed up to observe, and nearly collapsed when she saw how the counselor was dressed; all black, a dangerous amount of cleavage exposed, a skirt that left little to the imagination; and, of all things, thigh high boots.
Hooker boots, actually, Olivia thought as her mind flashed on Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman".
Casey spotted her, smiled and waved.
Olivia, transfixed, waved back.
As soon as Casey turned to question Brittany, Olivia was gone.
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"Huang."
"I can't do it."
He smiled, replied, "Hi Olivia."
"I saw him today," she lied, "and he looked *too* good. Doc, all I could think about was getting him into bed. This will never work, I can't just be friends; I - I just can't!"
He wondered if she was ever going to crawl out of that closet; he'd seen Casey, that morning, and his gay self had been so impressed with her sexiness that he'd actually fantasized about taking her to bed.
Sympathetically, he'd replied, "Ok, Liv, slow down. Remember, nothing meaningful can be created out of deception and half truths. The next time you see "him", try to see him as a person, not a lover, and make a friendly comment; compliment his work, his trial method, the way he won his latest case. Can you do that?"
Sighing exasperatedly, she replied, "I'll try."
"Good. And Olivia?"
"Yeah?"
"It will get easier to be around him, I promise."
"Thanks."
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The following day, Olivia waited with Elliot outside of the courtroom to congratulate their ADA on winning the case.
"How'd she do it?" Olivia had asked her partner, who had gone and observed the case in her absence.
"She noticed that Andrea was wearing Emily's class ring," he'd replied, beaming at the brilliance of his favorite ADA.
"Aren't they all pretty much the same?" Olivia inquired.
"Yeah, pretty much," said Elliot, "but you gotta remember, just about everybody picks their birthstone for the setting."
"Wow," Olivia replied, "and she noticed that it was Emily's birthstone?"
"Well," Elliot grinned, "she noticed that Andrea was a January birthday from her cover story, which meant that she shares your birthstone, garnet."
Olivia, wondering how Casey knew that little fact, asked Elliot where she got her information.
"She wanted to do something nice, for your birthday, as a thanks for all of the support you've given her since she got here," he answered, "so she asked."
Warmed by Casey's thoughtfulness, she smiled and ducked her head.
Oh my gawd, she thought, I'm blushing.
Elliot, too much of a gentleman to point it out, continued, "By the way, Andrea's birthstone is sapphire."
Casey's birthstone is sapphire, she thought, her fingers flying to the yellow sapphire pendant that she never took off; the pendant that she had been drawn to, inexplicably, years before she'd met the fiery ADA.
Lost in the memory, she recalled the day that she had bought it; the jeweler, part artist part mystic, who'd told her that every gemstone had a story.
When she'd replied that nothing outside of a feeling had drawn her to the fiery pendant, he'd replied that her feeling would someday make sense.
Today, it did.
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The detectives smiled warmly as the ADA exited the courtroom, stating, "Guilty on all counts."
"That is a fifteen minute jury verdict," Elliot chuckled, looking at his watch and turning to include his partner in the discussion, "that's very impressive Counselor."
They started walking towards the elevator, Olivia and Casey slightly ahead of him, as he slowed to take a phone call.
Olivia, dying to say the right thing, itching to touch her, finally said, "Remind me to give you the names of all the girls that I hated in high school," allowed herself to reach up, to gently pat the counselor's back.
And she smiled, that endearing little secret smile, the one that melted Casey's heart.
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Casey briefly entertained the thought of going back to Olivia's high school, of seeking out the girls that had tortured her endearing detective's gentle soul, was pulled back to reality by the electricity of Olivia's touch at her back.
Home, she thought, this is what home feels like.
Realized that Olivia was waiting for a reply, responded, absently, "Takes you back, doesn't it?"
Olivia, not trusting herself to speak, made an affirmative sigh in response.
Casey had to look away, couldn't believe that Olivia was maintaining the sweet contact, continued, "I hated it the first time around."
Olivia, more comfortable around the counselor than she had been in weeks, was just about to ask her to celebrate at O'Malley's, when Elliot interrupted.
"Olivia, Westchester PD. Shots fired at Tanner Day."
Crap.
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Casey watched them walk away, thought about the gentle banter she'd just shared with Olivia, decided to go birthday shopping.
DOINK DOINK