A/N: I probably shouldn't be starting a new story, but whatever—I needed a break. This is just me providing some 'tainment for myself. I hope you all get some out of the deal too.

You all know I pull fan wanks and you also know that I give warnings: I aged the twins. They were born in 1993. I think in canon time they were born in 1994 since they were in kindergarten in 1999 when the show began.

Also, the title is borrowed from Arctic Monkey's 2007 album. I love them.


Chapter One: Inauguration

Mid-August 2007

Casey Novak was going about her usual morning rituals. Namely indulging in a nuclear powered latté, picking at a bowl of Silk covered granola, shifting through mountains of paperwork and pretending to be fit for human contact.

Technically she wasn't supposed to be within one hundred yards of anything work related, as it was her only day off. However during her time as Manhattan Special Victim Unit's Assistant District Attorney, Casey had come to understand that once the mind had become submerged in the job's precarious routine, it was nearly impossible to sever the bond.

However the bond between thought and reality was shattered by the savage, unrestrained, bluesy caterwauls of Janis Joplin.

Lulu was up.

Casey loved her baby sister with her somber clothing, wayward hair, and her lifetime addiction to psychedelic rock. She was a sweet kid, raising just enough hell to be considered an average warm-blooded teenager, but quiet enough to sometimes be virtually invisible. Lulu played her Jefferson Airplane and her Jimi Hendrix and her Cream for the neighbors, regardless if they wanted to hear it or not. She left books strewn all over the house, she sprayed Tilex after each shower, did her homework when she remembered school came with it and never complained about relinquishing the remote to Casey when Monk came on.

Yes, Lulu was a great kid and pretty awesome as far as much younger sisters went, though it hurt Casey each time she remembered that was the only bond they would ever share.

Janis abruptly stopped moaning about the piece of her heart and Lulu emerged from her bedroom, swimming in her sister's NYU hoodie and a pair of star infested pajama bottoms. Gliding like a perturbed ghost, she mumbled something Casey interpreted as good morning, plopped down on the couch, and began digging for her ancestor's in Casey's half eaten bowl of cereal.

"You're not dressed," Casey gave her a once over. "You're supposed to be dressed."

"And you're not supposed to be working," she nodded at the hoard of files and papers dripping from the leather briefcase thrown sloppily onto the coffee table.

"Since when do Novak women do what we're suppose to?" Casey flashed a smile and tossed a manila folder back into the sea on the couch. She stood up and stretched, glancing down at the valley of overwhelm that had become her living room. She clapped her hands together as if the sound marked the official start of the day. "Finish eating and get dressed, Madam. Elizabeth's party starts in an hour."

When Elliot Stabler got wind of Casey's little sister being new to life in the Big Apple, he graciously invited the two Novak's to his youngest daughter's birthday party. As it turned out the girls were the same age and would be freshman at the same high school, so it was only natural that the two move beyond the professional connection of the adults in their lives.

Too bad said adults couldn't seem to abandon themselves in the method to their own madness.

"I'm not sure I wanna go," Lulu had already dived head first into the digital cable. "Strangers with cake don't seem to ring my social bell."

"I paid hard earned, nonrefundable money for her present," Casey snatched the remote and hauled the girl to her feet. "So get dressed, pretend you have a modicum amount of social skills, and do it quickly because we were supposed to be there thirty minutes ago."

"All right, you win," she bounced off the couch and aimed her spirit like saunter at the fracture in the wall they called a bathroom. "Honestly though, who buys a teenage girl a personalized free trade cotton tote?"

"Somebody that's clumsy with girls of the prepubescent persuasion, obviously."

Lulu let out a soft snicker at that. Soon after her lopsided grin faded and was replaced by a shadow of hurt. She leaned against the threshold of the bathroom door, eyes lost, as if she were searching the orange walls of their apartment for words.

"Hey," Casey moved to her side and laid a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Mom didn't call."

Of course she didn't call. Evelyn didn't believe in frivolous things like phone calls and goodbyes. They'd only heard from their mother once in the two months Lulu had been there. It was just a twenty second message telling them she'd gotten married for the sixth time and that she and her man of the millisecond would be gallivanting across Europe. Don't call because naturally she would call them later.

The problem with Evelyn—insert new married name here—was that later rarely, if ever, came.

"No Lu, sorry, she didn't."

"Figures."

She shrugged and vanished into the bathroom, splashing Casey with all the symptoms of what-if syndrome.


"Sorry we're late," Casey smiled and nodded at Elliot Stabler when he yanked open his front door. "Punctuality is a foreign concept amongst our kind."

"No worries, just glad you could make it on such short notice," he wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside. He turned his blue gaze on Lulu, who was trying desperately to become the world's first human chameleon. "And you must be Lulu." He held out his hand. "I'm Elliot Stabler. Your sister and I work together."

Lulu briefly shook Elliot's hand. "Nice to meet you. Casey's told me so much about you."

"Good I hope," he smiled between the two Novaks and Casey felt a frightening rush of—there were no words—at the sight.

"You have no idea."

Casey was so busy conjuring up a way to kill her sister without leaving a shred of physical and traceable evidence—deleting her iTunes library, forgetting to pay the cable bill, burning a few Pink Floyd posters—that she didn't notice Elliot leading Lulu in the direction of the festivities.

The three of them tumbled into the heart of the matter. The Stabler backyard was alive with celebration—the hickory smell of the grill, the chorus of conversation, people squeezing in wherever they could.

"Who's this?" a blonde woman greeted them at the bottom of the wooden stairs. She waved a pair of tongs and smiled a smile that was trying to reach her eyes, but was failing miserably.

"Kathy, this is Casey Novak, our ADA, and her little sister Lulu. I told you about them, remember? Guys this is Kathy, my wife."

"Ah, of course," she laughed it off and turned her investigative gaze on Lulu. "Excited about your freshman year?"

Lulu just nodded and shrugged, dragging the toe of her converses through the healthy green grass. Without further ado she excused herself and made a beeline for the punch, afraid she was going to be trampled by the elephant in the yard.

Kathy soon followed suit, but only because her only son announced that the chicken was burning.

Novak and Stabler were alone. Novak and Stabler allowed themselves to marinate in silence. It seemed awkward, this newfound civility. Neither of them seemed comfortable in the neutral climate of Elliot's home life. However, Casey found herself, at the risk of sounding like a romance novel, honored that he would allow her near something he usually kept close to the chest.

"Thanks again for inviting us."

"No problem," he nodded, lowering his chin a bit. "So, how are things going…with you and Lulu, I mean?"

"We're both adjusting. We've had our...special…moments, but all and all she's been great. Still not used to praying for hot water and buying food every thirty seconds though. I swear that kid eats like food's gonna become obsolete."

He laughed a little and looked away at the football game his son and a few neighborhood boys had going a few feet away. "And your mom?"

"Signed over full custody and avoids me like she owes me child support. Oh wait, she does," Casey laughed uncomfortably and rubbed her arms. She glanced at her sister, who'd already submerged herself in a book. "I think that's the hardest part for Lulu. My mother was much more involved with her than she was with my brother and I. And even though she wasn't Joan Cleaver by a long shot, she was still her mother, and then to just click her heals and…" she stopped talking and allowed herself a long, deep breath. A sheepish, lazy smile lifted the corners of her lips. "…and now you know why I spent most of my college years on the proverbial couch. On that informative, but extremely embarrassing note, I'm taking what little pride I have left and going to blackmail Lulu out of the shadows."

Elliot reached for her arm to stop her, but the sound of the birthday girl's voice brought it back to his side.

"Hey Dad," Elizabeth Stabler gave her father's shoulder a squeeze. She bounced a shy smile and a short wave in Casey's direction. "You're Ms. Novak right? We met at the basketball court that day."

"Yeah," Casey returned the smile. "Happy Birthday. At the risk of sounding old, how's it feel to be the big one-four?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Meh, feels like any other day I guess. It's not like I'm eligible to do anything like rack up the car insurance or vote for the next old guy to ruin the country. I already experienced the joy of being able to enter those contests on soda bottles last year so…I guess cake and hot dogs will have to suffice."

"Well, when you're my age you'll look back and you'll never want to do this again, so, make as many memories as possible to prove your future self wrong."

"I'll try. So, your sister…Lulu right? Dad said you were bringing her…"

Lizzie followed Casey's pale finger over to the girl making it her mission to go unnoticed. All big brown eyes and baggy jeans, Lulu had the book pressed to her face, just below her eyes, like a fan.

"She's a little shy," Casey felt the need to offer an explanation. "Maybe you can get her to branch out."

Lizzie nodded and shrugged, already starting in Lulu's direction.

The sun made her blue eyes look like two small oceans in the middle of her pale, freckled face. Her brown curls were tucked away from her face by a small clip. She was dressed like a stereotypical grassroots activist, in a grubby t-shirt and flared jeans that were entirely too long. The peace sign on her shirt had faded as if the idea had been put on the back burner.

"Lulu, right?" Blue Eyes said cheerfully. Her kindness seemed genuine and that instantly brought a level of comfort to the conversation.

"Yeah," Lulu lowered the book and brought her hand up to her eyebrow, shielding her eyes from the sun. "You're Elizabeth?"

"Only on paper. Those who value their limbs call me Lizzie."

"Nice to meet you," Lulu smiled politely and tucked her book into the pocket of her bulky hoodie. "So, uh, I guess a happy birthday's in order."

"Thanks."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lulu noticed her sister and Mr. Stabler examining them as though they were amebas in a pretri dish. Sighing, she pressed her back against the bark of the tree she'd made her fortress.

"They sent you over here to excavate me from my shell?"

"That about sums it up," Lizzie slumped next to her. "I figured I'd butter you up so you would slide out easier."

Lulu grimaced. "That was graphic."

"I read a lot of V.C Andrews in my formative years," Lizzie shrugged. "You're not mad are you?"

She shrugged. "Nah, Casey means well. She's just being a good sister."

Lizzie arched her brow at the detachment in her words. "You don't sound too happy about that."

Lulu pushed her bangs out of her face and waved her hand, though Lizzie couldn't tell if she was dismissing the idea or the conversation.

"Casey said you and Dickie are twins."

"We were born together and if wishes were horses there would be a stampede and he would die first."

Lulu laughed even though she felt a twinge of jealousy. She would've loved to have somebody her age around her entire life. Somebody who knew and understood what it was like to have the mother she did.

When she was little, Evelyn would sit her out like fine china, painting the illusion of a contemporary family. When she was older, Evelyn would manipulate and goad until her daughter would cave in—ultimately driving home that Lulu was just a pawn in her mother's twisted and ardent affair with power.

She didn't tell Lizzie any of that of course. She just turned her eyes onto the wooden picnic table with it's mantle of pastel wrapped presents and birthday cards wishing a daughter and niece and a sister and a cousin happy birthday.

Lizzie seemed to notice Lulu's invisible probe. "We're having separate birthday parties. Richard's is tomorrow. He's into the big birthday bashes and I like the tranquility of being surrounded by the radiating light of the sun and the love of the ones I hold dear. "

"No friends?"

"None," Lizzie conceded with a smirk and then nudged Lulu. "Until today, that is."

The wall of your memory will echo your sorrow

The pictures of sadness are not what they seem

So hold out your smile take my hand and be happy

These pictures of sadness are not all they seem


So, how was it? And it's my birthday so you have to be nice to me. It would be almost blasphemous if you weren't. Ha, if only life worked that way. :)

The lyrics above are by Jefferson Airplane and the song is Ice Cream Phoenix. I don't know if I'll make a playlist for this story, but if you'd like one, let me know.

Thanks for reading folks.