Part 8: hitting the home stretch

[gaiden91101]

That evening, Casey was unzipping the long, white leather boots and complaining to anyone who’d listen that Judge Harriman was out to drive her into an early grave. He and Mrs. Cabot both had been less than confrontational during the meeting, and she was irritated that all of her pre-meeting prep had been completely useless.

“Well, we still have another board meeting at the beginning of next year.” Olivia pointed out, grabbing a free foot and putting it in her lap, rubbing a day’s worth of wearing heels out of the attorney’s arches. “But Casey, you went out of your way to insinuate that you had some serious dirt. It could just possibly be that it was enough to keep them civil.”

Casey’s mom was curled up on a serious stack of cushions near the hearth, her teapot close enough to be in easy reach of both her and the flames, keeping it warm without a cosy. From the puttering around outside, Liv guessed that Casey’s father was just finishing up before joining the family for the evening.

“Trust me, Liv, there’s nothing I could possibly have to intimidate two members of the board of directors of one the largest, oldest, family run corporations on the East Coast.” Casey grumbled, “They’ve buried more skeletons than the Vatican.”

“Ouch,” her mother said, with some admonishment, “Let’s not get personal here.”

“Sorry Mama,” Casey apologised, “But… what I found wasn’t even very dirty, dirt. Just some mild insider trading, an illegal informant, and a fishy looking personal account, even I could make that go away with enough money, and that is not in short supply for that family.”

“Well… you know the SEC is really cracking down on the insider trading, I mean look at the whole Martha Stuart fiasco.” Olivia pointed out, switching to the other foot, “It could just be that even though they could bury the allegations, they might not want to risk getting the DA’s office and the judicial ethics bureau involved for a petty personal conflict.”

“Olivia,” the attorney sat up straighter and looked the detective in the eyes, “You honestly believe they’re afraid of me?”

“Of course, baby,” her daddy, divested of his flannel work shirt and boots joined them with the paper and a grin, “You’re a pretty fierce little bulldog when you got a bone to pick.”

“It’s possible,” Olivia shrugged, “If I was opposing counsel and I suspected you had something solid, there’s no way in hell I’d give you an opening to exploit that knowledge. Judge Harriman’s not stupid; his irritation with me notwithstanding, it would be career suicide to give you an excuse to make trouble.”

“But…” Casey protested, then sighed, and wiggled the toes in Olivia’s grasp, “Damn it, it’s not as much fun this way!”

All three of them laughed out loud, it made Casey flush, but the rare sight of Olivia’s merriment was infectious, the attorney had to laugh at herself. She stood and began collecting her boots; Liv stopped her and unclipped her badge and gun, with the ‘could you take these up for me pretty-please’ expression on her face.

The two girls were not the only ones who could talk through a glance, Brian and his wife shared a brief look before she casually scanned the detective over the teacup. Casey had obliquely hinted that the detective’s familial situation was not pleasant and that the detective’s job was similarly disagreeable, from her observations of the woman it seemed like it was all true, but she was a mother, though, it was her privilege and duty to pry shamelessly.

“You sound like you understand corporate arrangements very well; did you ever get there on a professional capacity?”

“No, that’s Novak’s old job was white collar, I’ve worked SVU almost from the get go. I went for my gold shield the first chance I had.” It irked Brian that she referred to his daughter by her last name while discussing ‘business’. It reminded him very much of unfortunate officers lording over him during his career in the Army. “It’s been… six… I don’t know, maybe seven, years with the unit.”

“Don’t they cycle out high-stress jobs like Sex Crimes?” Brian asked, knowing that in the military commanders tried to keep a rotation of units on the front line. Trauma and stress were killers’ as much as enemy fire.

“Typically the stint on SVU is two years,” Olivia replied, “But some of us find our niche. There’s a core of four or five of us that have been in for… well, ever. My partner, Elliot, has been a cop for twelve years and nine of them have been with SVU, there’s Munch, he’s been in for six years, Cragen’s been there for about ten… uh, Ken Briscoe’s just getting on his fifth, and Finn’s been with us for more than two years now, as well.”

“I can’t imagine how you cope with that… day in and day out,” Jill had no difficulty showing her dismay, “I can’t imagine Casey living with that either.”

“She’s done ok,” Olivia defended, “It’s the first few cases that really determine if you can stick it out. Her first case lit a fire under her and she’s been full steam ahead ever since.”

“I asked Branch for a transfer the day we closed that investigation,” Casey’s voice came disembodied from the hallway, then she appeared in sweats and an old high school spirit shirt, emblazoned with the school mascot, an eagle with a tri-corned hat. “He wouldn’t let me quit.”

“I didn’t know that,” Olivia turned, with a concerned expression, “You did great… hell, you were the one who rescued that kid from the ice cooler on the docks.”

“I guess I did,” Casey sat back on the sofa, unselfconsciously snuggling up to her detective, making Brian bristle and attack the paper aggressively. “Looking back I can see why you and Elliot couldn’t stand the sight of me. God, I was so self-righteous, so arrogant, I thought I was on top of the world.”

“Sweetheart, I have a news flash,” Olivia said, grinning, wrapping her left arm around the attorney. “You’re still self-righteous and arrogant; you have to be to do your job. The difference is you’ve got a better understanding of what you can be self-righteous and arrogant about.”

“Sorry, hun, Detective Benson’s got you pegged,” Brian roughly shook out his current section of the Boston Globe; hearing about these details of Casey’s work was making him uncomfortable. He realized now that his daughter had been heavily editing the things she told them about her job. “Lawyering’s about the only job you could’ve got where your own employees won’t take you out and shoot ya.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Casey glared and chucked a throw pillow at him, “Makes me feel a lot better.”

“Brian…” his wife gave him ‘the look’, she was seriously trying to pry for information and his attitude was getting in the way, “You’d think you were raised by wolves.”

“Nope,” he replied cheerfully, “The Army, same difference.”

“Anyway…” Jill rolled her eyes, “I was asking Olivia about her job, before we were rudely interrupted.”

“There’s really not much to say,” Olivia admitted, “I hoofed it in patrol out of Washington Heights with the 2-2 for a few years, got my detective’s shield, then transferred to the SVU, pretty much straight out of the chute.”

“You’ve been a police officer for quite a while then,” Jill remarked, trying to get Olivia to elaborate.

“Yeah, almost ten years, straight out of college,” Liv shrugged.

“What did you study?” Brian asked sharply.

“I, uh,” Liv actually flushed a little, surprising Casey, “I was a psych major, specifically victim psychology.”

“Huh, I’d have guessed criminal justice,” Casey teased, but in retrospect she could see a lot of the psych training in the work Olivia did; what made her a great detective as opposed to a merely a good one, was her rapport with the victims, which a psychology background would help a lot in fostering.

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Siena College,” Olivia supplied, “Um, it’s near Albany.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Casey reminisced, “We played softball against them, Division I game, pretty good girls out there.”

“I played lacrosse,” Olivia admitted, Casey poked her in the ribs, “What? I walked on, freshman year and played all four years of eligibility for the Saints. I still even have my gear.”

“Saints?” her mother questioned.

“It’s a Franciscan college,” Olivia explained, “Liberal arts….history, language studies, psych, literature… that sort of place.”

“You’re Catholic?” Brian asked surprise very evident in his voice.

“No, I’m not, but…” Liv trailed off, “You know, I really think it did me good. I have my issues with the Catholic Church as a group, don’t get me wrong, but the atmosphere gave me some of the discipline and structure that I really… well, I needed it at that point in my life. I settled down a lot after college.”

“Casey went to Harvard,” her dad said, paternal pride oozing from his very pores, “First one of the family to go to college; Law degree and everything.”

“Even passed the bar on her first try,” her mother added, watching the attorney in question turn bright red at the attention.

“Yeah, I know. She’s the youngest ADA’s Branch has ever promoted,” It was Olivia’s turn to nudge at her girlfriend, “Prosecutes like a bat out of hell, she swings for the fence every time.”

“I think we’re embarrassing her,” Jill said as Casey buried her red face in Olivia’s shoulder. A loud beeping noise came from the kitchen. “That’ll be dinner. Would someone please set the table?”

It was old fashioned Yankee pot roast, which by Jill’s standards was pretty low key, but she saw the detective’s eyes go wide and could practically see the drool as it got passed around the table. She inhaled the food, stopping every few bites to compliment profusely. Jill found it very endearing that the detective was so found of her cooking.

Later, as Olivia and Jill were taking care of the dishes, Casey and her father became conspicuously absent. Jill could tell it made the detective nervous and it was apparently justified, because without warning, the door from the outside burst open and Casey rushed in, anger following her like a wave.

“Pack your bag, Liv, we’re leaving.”

To her credit, the detective didn’t turn a hair; she dried her hands on the dishtowel slowly, and replied, “I never unpacked it. I just need my badge and gun.”

“I’ll get it,”

Casey stomped up the stairs, leaving a bewildered mother and resigned girlfriend in her wake. Olivia hung the apron back on its hook, started methodically rolling her shirt sleeves back down, fastening them again with the little black cufflinks, and politely turned to Jill to thank her for the kindness and hospitality, especially the meals, and limped to where she’d leaned her crutches.

By the time the detective made it to the entry hall, Casey had chucked her backpack and Liv’s duffel down the stairs, but she was, however, still stomping around the bedroom, probably changing into more reputable clothing.

Brian came in the kitchen door, much more sedately than his daughter, and Jill demanded, “What in God’s name did you say to her?”

Then she noticed her husband was holding a hand to his jaw, which had started to swell and purple, Casey hadn’t just stormed out, she’d slugged him a good one before leaving. He took a bag of frozen green peas out of the freezer and held it to his face, “Something I probably shouldn’t have…oww… Jesus, she has Claire’s temper. We should never have encouraged her to go to law school; I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it, ma chere, because she’s furious,”

Casey stormed down the stairs, and joined her girlfriend in the entry hall.

Thanks to a small freak of physics and nature, the ductwork Brian installed to supplement the fireplaces in winter, carried noise as well. Specifically, from the entry hall and dining room into the kitchen, if the heat wasn’t running, someone stood near the vent, and obviously, shamelessly, eavesdropped they could hear, with reasonable accuracy, what was going on in that part of the house.

“Arrrgh,” that was Casey’s voice, “I don’t care who he thinks he is. I’m a grown woman and I am perfectly capable of deciding whom I want to date, without any of his bigoted, self-important, opinionated input.”

“Case… he’s your father and he loves you very much,” the more moderate voice was Olivia, which made Brian’s jaw set painfully. “And he’s obviously looking out for your well being. I mean, I wouldn’t let my daughter date me.”

“Liv…”

“No, really, Casey,” the detective’s voice low, but depressingly clear and matter of fact, “I might clean up nicely, but where it counts I’m still just the bastard kid of a rapist and an alcoholic, that’s not exactly something you take home to meet your folks.”

“Don’t you dare,” Casey’s voice was intense, “No one is allowed to talk about my girlfriend like that, not even you.” There was a long pause and Jill suspected what her daughter was doing to keep the detective silent.

“Olivia Benson you are a gorgeous, intelligent, capable, woman and a dedicated, decorated, detective of the finest police force in the country. You did it all, by yourself, in spite of where you came from, not because of it… so that attitude can take a hike and if my father can’t see how wonderful you are, he can take a hike too.”

“Casey, please,” there was another long pause.

“Seriously, though, don’t be so hard on him.” Olivia was still protesting, even as the coat closet was opened and shut, “It can’t be easy to deal with the fact that his daughter brought home a woman. He’s just taking it out on me and that’s perfectly normal, alright, don’t overreact and do something… drastic.”

“Liv he called you…” Casey’s voice became muffled, and Jill looked at Brian sharply, “How can you possibly stand there and defend that?”

“Case… my own mother called me worse than that, ok?” There was a note of desperate humour in Olivia’s voice, “Before we leave, I want you to find him, tell him you’re sorry that’s how he feels, and that you love him.”

“Liv…”

“I’m serious, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“Fine.”

Jill and Brian both scrambled away from the vent, trying to look nonchalant. Casey marched in, but before she could open her mouth, Brian interrupted.

“Look, Casey-girl, I…” he sighed, still holding the frozen peas to his jaw, “I shouldn’t have said those things, please don’t go, not like this.”

“I thought you didn’t want some dyke…”

“Casey,” he interrupted again, knowing what would come out of her mouth if she continued, “I was wrong and I apologise... its just hard for an old man like me to adjust. I don’t want it to be said that I ran a guest out of my house, not to mention my own daughter.”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” Casey pointed out ruthlessly, “You didn’t even have the balls to insult her to her face, you just…”

“That’s enough,” Jill intervened, there had been enough arguments between Casey and her father in the past twenty years that she knew better than to let either of them get a full head of steam. “You’ve both behaved badly. Brian admits he’s wrong and he’s sorry, Casey you had no right to hit your father.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she ground out, very reluctantly, “but…”

“No, no, no,” Jill stopped her mid-sentence, “Enough. Casey: go take a nice, hot bath.” Casey opened her mouth to protest and was cut off by a simple command, “Go!”

“Brian: go cool down,” Jill ordered, “Take the peas, go back to your workshop, carve something nice, build a chair, or construct a new outbuilding… just go and when you come back be calm and civil.”

He knew better than to argue with his wife when she had her command face on, silently he and his frozen peas sulked back out of the kitchen to the combination, garage, wood shop, and tool shed. It was originally an outbuilding, for the house had been a farm from the revolutionary era up to the First World War, until his grandparents had been forced to sell off parcels of land during the depression. The workshop was still his private place and to the yard he trudged.

Jill was left with the larger problem of what to do about Olivia. The detective in question poked her head around the kitchen door, checking to see if the coast was clear. Jill rolled her eyes and sat heavily down on a kitchen chair.

“Welcome to Friday Night Fights at the Novak house,” she joked, “In that corner,” she pointed up to where they could hear hot water running upstairs. “Is the irresistible force, in that corner,” She pointed out to the barn, “Is the immovable object. I’ll be your referee for the evening.”

“Are they always this…?”

“Explosive? Heavens no,” Jill chuckled, “It got much worse after Casey came home from Harvard, her head stuffed full of new ideas. After they taught her how to argue, it became hopeless. Brian swears she has Claire’s temper, but he forgets she gets it from both sides.”

“Apparently,” the detective was fidgeting and Jill had an idea.

She stood up, slowly, and sighed as her knees popped. It happened every time and had for a while, but at this moment it was helpful, “Nothing to do but the dishes; at least until they cool down.”

“Here, let me,” Liv leaned her crutches against the kitchen table and limped to the sink, “You cooked, you shouldn’t have to clean up afterwards as well.”

Liv was glad for the hot water and the few dishes that remained; it gave her something to do with her hands. Jill put a pan on the stove and filled it with an inch of liquid from an unmarked gallon jug, she added a dollop of brandy to the pot and the kitchen filled with a spicy, sweet smell.

When she finished with the dishes, Jill pressed a hot mug into Olivia’s hands, “Here: have a toddy. I know I could use one.”

Jill sipped from the hot cider slowly; it warmed her, inside and out. Olivia was just sitting, her eyes were open, but focused somewhere else. Bravely the older woman made a stab at conversation.

“I’d apologise for Brian, but he’s his own man and needs to deal with his own problems,” she swished her drink and shrugged, “Twenty years in the Army doesn’t necessarily foster liberal thinking, even in the seventies.”

“You don’t seem offended by the fact that I’m a woman,” Olivia pointed out.

Jill laughed, “Why should I be? You’re charming, polite, and a huge fan of my cooking, which, I promise you, is an excellent way to get in my good graces. My daughter adores you and as far as I’m concerned, that’s an outstanding recommendation.”

Olivia blushed and Jill let her smile widen, “I don’t hold any illusions about my influence on Casey’s decisions, especially the… ah, personal ones. Even if I did, that’s not what matters: man, woman, dancing bear… as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said softly.

There was another long silence and Jill could feel Olivia slipping off, “How long have you and Casey been dating?”

“Uh… dating, um,” Liv frowned a second, gathering her thoughts from the dark place where they’d drifted. “About a week… yeah, since last Saturday.”

“A week…and she dragged you back here and into this…” Jill hung her head, shaking it, “That I will apologise for, we raised her with more tact that that, I promise. She’s just so quick to jump into things, never half-way, never half-hearted, just… rolls right over people. Like a force of nature.”

“Yeah…” Olivia said slowly, what annoyed her as a detective about her ADA, she found somewhat endearing in a girlfriend. Well, perhaps not endearing, but it made Olivia feel a lot more secure in her relationship. This was not a woman of one-night stands. “It also scares the hell out of me.”

“Why?”

“Going all the way, every time?” Olivia shook her head, “That’s a quick way to get your heart stomped on and if you’re not careful, it’s also a good way to get your ass shot.”

“Are you going to stomp on her heart detective?” Jill asked getting to the meat of her evening’s worth of prying.

“I don’t know,” Olivia ran a frustrated hand through her hair, “I hope not. God… I’d help if she didn’t wear her emotions in her eyes all the time. I mean… there’s no secrets in her, if it pops in her head it’s in her face.”

“Most people call that honesty,” Jill replied blandly, curious where the detective was going and more interested in where she was coming from.

“I know,” Liv lifted her eyes to the older woman’s almost pleading with her, “She is honest, so damn honest…so open, so innocent, she doesn’t need to be rolling around in the shit in the trenches. All she’s going to do is get her heart broken.”

“And so you see my dilemma as a mother,” Jill explained softly, “I cannot stop my child from doing what she is so obviously passionate about, yet I don’t want darkness to drag her down.”

“Yeah, I see,” Olivia’s voice was low, something was obviously twisting deep inside the detective and Jill suspected she knew what it was.

“And you believe that just by being in her life, you drag her down into that cesspit of human antipathy, why?” Jill asked, watching the expression on Olivia’s face pass from shock, to horror, to pure, unadulterated self-loathing. “If anything, I pray to God that you are the one who can keep her from loosing herself in the worst things humans can do to each other.”

“Me?” Olivia’s voice was high and pale, “I’m… I can’t protect her… I’m not…”

“You are,” Jill reassured, “And I don’t recall asking you to protect Casey, my daughter is more than capable of taking care of herself, but I do rightly believe my first impression of you was correct: you are a knight. No matter what happens to the two of you romantically, your example will keep her from loosing herself to the hatred in the everyday.”

“I… I’m nothing like that.” Olivia’s hands were shaking so badly the hot liquid in her mug sloshed over her knuckles. “I’m the bastard kid of a rapist and an alcoholic…”

“That may be what you are, Olivia, but that is not who you are.” Jill pointed out with ruthless logic, “You have courage, to follow my daughter here after just a week of romance; you are intensely loyal, you came to Boston with the sole purpose of honouring a promise to a friend; you have a clear obligation to justice, after all you are a police officer; you are humble about your accomplishments; and there is intense nobility in what you do. Those, according to the Emperor Charlemagne, extorted in the ninth century of our Lord, are the qualities of a true knight.” Jill paused for a moment, than added, “You even have a shield with a coat of arms.”

Olivia just looked at Jill, wide eyed, and the angry voice in her mind, which sounded annoyingly like her mother, kept trying to disprove the assertions. But something fierce fought back, part of her was just sick and tired of jumping into beds with virtual strangers, hoping that this time it would be different than the others. She wanted to be able to wake up in the morning with a little hope, she wanted to trust someone enough to not feel like running away all the time, and she wanted desperately to believe in what Jill was saying.

“There is nothing noble about my job,” Olivia found herself saying, mentally panicking. Why was she doing this, why was she picking at her slim hope, why she felt the urge to knock herself back down.

“Nobility: greatness of character sought through continued striving to achieve an ideal, even though the ideal can never be truly realised. The very act of trying ennobles the spirit, it also tends to inspire greatness in others, who see the act as worth of emulation,” Jill quoted, as though by rote, “I see a great deal of nobility in working with the Special Victims Unit.”

Liv completely abandoned her mug, losing both hands in her hair, and disclaiming, “I am nothing like that. I’m not…”

“You are a good woman, Olivia Benson, no matter who sired you and what your mother chose to do with her life,” Jill asserted, “You deserve happiness, you deserve a chance to love, and I am vain enough to think that my child would be good for you. Just give Brian a chance to come around; he’s more hung up on the plumbing than the person.”

Jill smiled, patted Olivia on the arm, and let the detective just sit and think things through. Later that night, when Olivia was laying flat on Casey’s bed, she turned slightly, and watched the slim redhead preparing for bed.

It was alluring, watching Casey, and shamelessly Olivia had a sudden fascination with watching the attorney move, her skin was so pale, it contrasted vividly with the intense shade of pink Casey chose for her sleepwear that evening. When the attorney became aware of Olivia’s silent perusal she blushed hotly, but kept on going with her evening routine.

Casey had long, long legs, revealed by the short cut of the nightgown, and she moved gracefully, enough that Olivia wondered if she’d had any dance training, and still had the cutest, must colourfully painted toes in the history of humanity. Casey’s skin was flawless and freckled, the small brown spots dusting across her shoulders like a cape, collecting on the bridge of her nose and forearms as if they’d been rained down from heaven.

When Casey slid in next to her, cuddling right up to her side, laying a slightly damp head on her shoulder and snuggling one arm around her midsection with a leg thrown over her knees, Olivia did more than hug her close, she wrapped both arms around Casey and pulled her to almost a straddling position, the redhead didn’t have enough time for more than a surprised gasp, before Olivia steadied her with large, browned, hands.

Delicately, carefully, she let her hands roam… just a little, she promised herself, just to get a feel for what was there; to test and see if the texture of Casey’s skin was as smooth and soft as the silk of the nightgown or if it was softer. When a rough spot on her hands snagged on the silk, she flinched. A lot of callus had developed on her hands from using crutches every day and it wasn’t as if her hands were baby soft to begin with.

Casey took her hands and brought them up to her mouth, kissing the rough palms and abused knuckles. She leaned in, resting Olivia’s hands on her shoulders, and ducked her head down, not quite close enough to kiss the detective, but near enough that Olivia could read every emotion that ran through Casey’s body.

Desire… ye gods was there desire, enough desire to burn even Olivia up to cinders, leaving nothing but ash, but it was tempered, muted, with real, honest, affection. Casey didn’t just lust after Olivia’s body, she sort of liked the detective as well and that made Olivia tingle.

Casey smiled, like she understood something that the detective had yet to ferret, and sank down onto Olivia, who suddenly realised the balance of power in this evening’s entertainment had shifted. The attorney teased Olivia with light, butterfly kisses; nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, and once when Olivia had been distracted, both closed eyelids. She settled herself more securely on Olivia’s hips, then sat back a little, grinning quite madly.

The detective couldn’t help but return the smile; she sat up and wrapped arms around the attorney, dragging her back to the bed with her body weight and for no easily definable reason started laughing. They rolled together, laughing and kissing, until Casey took a moment, settling Olivia’s head on her shoulder, legs tangled together, hands entwined and resting on the attorney’s stomach.

Liv propped herself up on one elbow, taking in her girlfriend’s face against the pillow as if she’d never seen it before. Casey’s hand migrated up and ran through the short hairs right behind the detective’s ears. When she scratched along the scalp Liv’s eyes went to half mast, ironically she loved having her hair played with even though it was so short.

There was something mischievous in the air tonight, Olivia decided, nuzzling up against the paleness of Casey’s neck, seeking out little pockets of that special scent on her skin. Both hands were in Liv’s hair now, making the detective purr like a kitten. Liv was propping herself up mostly on her elbows and hands, her knee not up to the task, so she was exploring with her chin, cheeks, and nose.

Casey squirmed playfully, trying several times to regain her position as queen of the mountain, finally digging tickling fingers into Olivia’s ribs and literally turning the tide. As she flipped, the spaghetti strap of her nightgown slipped down, exposing one pale breast with a large areole and pebbly nipple to the chill air.

All of Olivia’s active consciousness was suddenly focused there, Casey could feel her body blushing, but was half hoping the detective would take advantage of the moment. Olivia’s hand did lift, making Casey’s heart pound, but gently the detective bought the strap back up over her shoulder.

There was no question that Olivia would rather have used those long fingers on Casey’s nipple, the look in her eyes was unmistakable, but she clearly was holding herself back, tamping down the more carnal of her urges for some reason. In retaliation, Casey hovered over the detective and planted a long, sloppy, wet one on her, driving her knee between Olivia’s thighs and rubbing shamelessly.

That went on for several searingly hot minutes, but all at once, Olivia grabbed her undulating hips and held them still, hoarsely commanding, “Enough”

Casey pouted, which was acknowledged by Olivia gently taking the full lower lip in her teeth for a moment. Casey pulled the detective close, laying the short haired head on her shoulder, willing her pulse to reach a normal human beat.

“You’d try the patience of a saint,”

It was clearly meant as a compliment so Casey kissed Olivia’s forehead, as if she were a ten year-old, and whispered contentedly, “Good night, Liv.”

“Night, Case,”

Olivia dropped off peacefully, but Casey stayed awake a long time wondering what was driving the detective to clamp down on her emotions with such an iron fist. That kind of reaction discomfited Casey, although it did soothe some of her concerns that the detective wasn’t as emotionally invested in the relationship.

The next morning, they played like children, Casey grabbed a football from the barn and they spent the morning tossing it around the yard like teen-agers. Casey’s older brother, Armand, came by the house at lunchtime and with him Olivia found a mutual interest in lacrosse. They pigged out on the sofa, watching a game off the satellite TV and burping beer until dinner.

When Brian came in on Sunday morning to wake his child for Mass, he was braced for anything. He hoped, he prayed, that Casey would have enough mercy on him to be fully clothed under those blankets she shared with her girlfriend and that Detective Benson would have the sense to not rub his nose in the argument she’d been privy to, because otherwise he’d be sorely tempted to blow his top. Again.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked, listened for a moment, and then when he got no clear response he cracked the door. There was a motionless lump on the very middle of the bed, which had seemingly absorbed all the blankets into one large cocoon.

He took a few hesitant steps in, recognising his daughter by the tuft of red hair poking out of the cocoon while she was passed out face-down on the chest of one NYPD detective. One more step in and the Olivia’s eyes snapped open, as if he’d passed a perimeter fence, and shot up to him with murderous intent.

He stopped in his tracks, the last time he’d seen eyes like that was in a swamp infested jungle and he ended up losing two men he considered friends. As quickly as the expression came to her face, she blinked and it was gone, once she seemingly realised where she was and who was in the room. Lumps under the blanket moved and slowly Casey’s head rose from the cocoon.

“Daddy…” her face split into a huge, jaw-cracking, yawn, “Wha-oo-ant?”

“It’s time to get dressed for Mass, hun,” a small smile when she made a face and pouted.

Suddenly the blankets flew off the bed, and Casey sat all the way up, revealing to a thankful father that she and Detective Benson both were fully clothed.

“Casey!” Olivia protested, curling into a shocked, protective ball, “It’s cold out there!”

“If I’m up, you’re up,” she declared, “Besides; I fully intend to use all the hot water before I leave the house.”

The detective grumbled and grabbed her duffle, limping dourly out to the bathroom before her girlfriend stole the hot water. Casey faced her father alone for the first time since their argument.

“She’s a good woman, Daddy,” Casey said softly, winding her arms around her father’s chest, “Please, just see that.”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “Just… why couldn’t she just be a nice young man, hmm?”

“Believe me,” Casey laughed, “I had that same debate in my mind, over and over again. I even dated a guy…” she chuckled into her father’s chest, “I dated this guy after a month on the job, he had… he was practically identical to Liv, he even worked with rape victims, a psychiatrist. Tall, handsome, sweet, thoughtful, charming… you would have loved him, but there was just nothing there. I looked up at him and all I could see was eyes the colour of coffee looking right back at me.”

“Olivia,” Brian acknowledged, it was as apt a description of the dark brown, almost black, eyes of the detective as he could come up with.

“God, that was a wake up call,” Casey blushed, remembering the gentle way her date had told her that it wasn’t him she was seeing, “It was so embarrassing, even he could see it after a few dates. I was dating a substitute. I just can’t do that, Daddy, it wouldn’t be fair to whoever I was dating and it would kill me.”

“I’ll try, Casey, but…” All the things he wanted for his little girl kept flashing through his mind, a big, white wedding… little Novak’s running around to spoil rotten… a son-in-law to go out shooting with, or drink a few beers with, or…

“That’s all I need.” His girl kissed one stubbly cheek.

They came back from the service and Olivia was no-where to be found. The car was still parked outside, but until they heard laughter coming from the barn, it was as if she’d disappeared.

“Liv!” Casey exclaimed, seeing her girlfriend wrestling in the dirt with an animal she couldn’t readily identify.

“Hey, you guys back already?”

“What are you doing with that… thing?”

“Just playing with the dog,” Olivia protested, staggering to her feet. The small ugly fur patch with legs hopped around her ankles, making an abbreviated barking noise that sounded like ‘aroo’. “I went out to stretch and this little guy came pelting out of the barn and practically bowled me over. He’s adorable, Case, why didn’t you tell me you had a dog?”

“I don’t.” she looked critically at the thing Olivia referred to as a ‘dog’ underneath the fur and dirt, it looked like the demonic cross between a pug and a bulldog, that had been beaten with the ugly stick a few times. “Daddy, why didn’t someone tell me we had a dog?”

“We don’t.” the man replied, watching Olivia dust dirt off her NYPD sweats and sweet talk the ugliest animal he’d ever seen. “We had problem with rats in the hayloft a few months back, but I started finding bits of them around the barn. I figured we might have a stray cat in the rafters, but…”

“Awww, no one’s been looking out for you, poor guy,” she ruffled the fur and was rewarded with short yips and a thorough tongue bath.

“Ok, you are washing your face with bleach before I think about touching you,” Casey knelt down and tentatively offered her hand to be sniffed. “Looks like it’s a stray Liv, no collar, no… bath.”

Her girlfriend looked up at her with the hugest Bambi eyes, and Casey knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Can I keep him?”

“You’re a grown woman Olivia, if you want a pet it’s your decision,” Casey did remember the protestations the detective made when she’d been ordered to get a pet by her cardiologist. “I just don’t know if you’ll be home a lot to look after him.”

“They just need to be walked, right?” Olivia was hopelessly lost in the joy of doggie, “I go out in the mornings, I’m just a couple blocks from the park, and he’s not real big…”

The one small blessing was that the dog was indeed small. He couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds, on the outside. His tail curled up, appealingly and he had the short, bowlegged stance of a bulldog, with a round, cylindrical body and a square head.

There was no hope of separating the two. A vet’s office and Petco later, he’d been vaccinated, bathed, groomed, clipped, and accessorized. It was a small miracle, but ‘Butch’ was reasonably well behaved and evidently housetrained. When Olivia smirked and typed ‘Butch’ on the rabies tag for the dog Casey had laughed out loud, a lesbian cop with a dog named Butch was one over the top.

Casey found he was slightly less ugly after the grooming process, they cut his fur very short, almost a buzz cut, and it revealed good strong shoulders and haunches, he was a tawny reddish colour, that was dark on top and lighter as it reached his paws. He rode home from the pet store on Casey’s lap, doggie eyes wide with excitement, and the attorney couldn’t help but smile.

That night he slept curled up in a ball at the foot of Olivia’s big bed, in her apartment in Manhattan. The happy smile on Olivia’s face on the way home was worth every dog hair he was going to shed on Casey’s trial suits for the rest of eternity.