A/N: I think I must be crazy starting ANOTHER story but I actually wrote 6,000 words of this as a one-shot before realising I should probably split it into two chapters... This is set around s13, and breaks canon a little bit. If you're reading 'Silence' then this story fits into the same universe (which I guess is a bit of a spoiler!) but you defs don't need to have read that to read this as its a prequel but also stands alone. I've rated it as M for the sake of the next chapter... ;) which is almost entirely written so should be up next week.
It's March when she arrives, a box of knickknacks in one arm, her attache and a table lamp in the other. It's a recipe for disaster, her walking into an elevator doing some kind of bizarre balancing act, and that's why Alex leaps to help her. Not because of any other reason.
(Though the guilt of how abrasive she'd been, how she'd never apologised or thanked her, still lingers there in the back of her mind).
Casey stubbornly doesn't want help, but when she tilts the box the wrong way and the top file comes hurtling out, Alex grabs it without a second thought. Giving in, Casey lets her carry the lamp.
"I didn't know you were back," Casey tells her, on the walk to her new office (she almost turns the wrong way, back towards her old one, before she catches herself), high heels click-clacking against the polished floors, the two pairs in time with each other. She's guarded, doesn't let Alex know what she means by that statement, her face and voice neutral.
"I almost wasn't," Alex says, and she leaves it at that. There aren't many she wants to share the horrors she's seen in the last two years with, least of all Casey Novak.
Casey seems unsure of herself as she drops her box of possessions onto the oak desk, but by the time she turns to look at Alex, her jaw's set, her shoulder's back, and she's resolute, an imitation of the woman Alex met six years ago, only very slightly crumbling at the edges.
Good. Good for her, Alex thinks, as she puts the table lamp down, and turns to leave. Don't let them break you apart. They aren't worth it.
"Maybe we could do coffee, some time," Casey says, as an afterthought, and Alex almost believes that she imagined it.
Still, she turns back, smiles.
"Sure. I'd like that." And she would, she realises, feeling sort of puzzled by it.
Casey smiles, looking relieved, if only for a second, before she returns to organising her desk.
It's May by the time their schedules fall into alignment. Of course, their paths cross before that; Alex looks over her cases, occasionally passes her in the elevator, or on her way into court. She sits in the back of the courtroom during one of Casey's trials, and watches, only realising she's holding her breath when Casey meets her gaze, across the room, and frowns, just slightly.
"Checking up on me?" she asks, afterward, following Alex down the front steps of the building.
"Of course not," Alex replies, indignantly.
Folding her arms across her, Casey's expression is stony as she regards Alex.
"Okay," Casey eventually relents, turning and starting to walk away.
Alex waits a beat, before following, "wait, Casey… how about that coffee?"
She's almost surprised when she agrees. From the look on her face, so is Casey.
They both by-pass the busy Starbucks opposite Foley Square, dipping into a privately owned coffee house further down. Alex is faintly impressed that they both - supposedly - frequent the same establishment, but haven't bumped into each other there before. Then again, she usually only pops into Blues to grab a cup to go, or to go over files. She rarely pays attention to their other patrons.
They order their coffee. Alex watches Casey pour creamer and sweetener into her cup, before striding over to a table near the back. She walks with more confidence outside of the court room than she does in it.
"How long do you have before you need to be back in court?"
Casey drops her briefcase onto a seat and slides into the one next to it, checking her wrist watch, "I have to meet with Olivia in half an hour."
"I won't take too much of your time, then," Alex says, holding her coffee cup with both hands, "how are you doing?"
Raising her eyebrows, Casey folds her hands into her lap, "so you are checking up on me?"
Not in any professional or official capacity, Alex finds herself thinking, but she realises that yeah, she is checking up on her. But only because she's worried. Only because… she likes her. She knows what it's like to come back to this job, this all-consuming, emotionally draining job where you see horrific things almost every day, and don't have any time to process any of it.
She's only worried, she realises, because she's feeling it all herself.
"I'm not. I'm just making conversation," Alex says, instead.
It's awkward. They talk shop, but not in any way that is actually meaningful, a conversation that seems to loop back in on itself endlessly, with very little actually being said. Eventually, Casey makes her excuses and drains her cup, leaving before Alex can think to follow her.
Still, it's a start.
They pair up for a case for the first time in June. Not because Casey isn't capable; actually, it's Alex who asks her for help. Her caseload is horrendous, and the case is high profile, the kind she needs to be able to give her full attention to, but can't. So, she hands it over to Casey.
She doesn't miss the look of surprise on the redhead's face, sitting at her desk gazing down at the thick manilla folder that Alex has slid across to her. It's the first time, Alex realises later, that she's been in her office since that first day.
"I'd like to second chair," Alex says, watching Casey mull over the case details.
When she looks up, her expression is unreadable. She tilts her head just ever so slightly, like she's trying to read her, or read the situation. Like she thinks it might be a trick.
"Don't trust me on my own?" Casey wonders aloud, and Alex watches the muscles in her throat contract as she swallows, her defences up.
"Not at all. But I'd still like to oversee this one, given I've been on it since the beginning," she smiles, "I'm invested in the outcome."
Casey looks at her like she's still not quite sure whether to trust her, but relents, smiling slowly, "we'll share it, then."
To begin with, working alongside Casey is frustrating. Not because she isn't professional, or thorough, or hard-working, or any of the other things that make a good attorney, but purely because her style is different. It takes a lot of getting used to, working alongside somebody in a unit where she's always worked alone. And Casey is clearly defensive about her work, too. It isn't that she's short with Alex, more that she's… hesitant. Alex gets the impression she still isn't 100% sure that Alex hasn't been sent to spy on her. She's protective of her own notes, and their brainstorming sessions often fall flat.
Despite all of this, Alex is impressed by her. Not that that should be surprising. Whilst she hasn't been checking up on her, per say, she has read over some of her cases, back when Alex had the luxury of free time (she's forgotten what the inside of her apartment looks like at this point, she's spent so little time in it). She's a damn good attorney. It isn't a surprise that the DA's office welcomed her back. Better yet, they make a decent team, once they're both on the same page.
As the trial moves closer, Alex all but falls asleep at her desk. She's wearing herself thin; she knows that. She has nothing outside of her job, lately, no reason to head home at the end of the night. Sharing her caseload with Casey has taken some of the pressure off, but work is still work, and cases pile up on top of each other, and even when they don't, she doesn't feel much like sitting alone in her apartment, going over the same files she could be looking at at her desk.
It's so late that the lights in the hallways are off. Even the cleaning staff have long since left, leaving the smell of bleach in their wake, a faint citrus smell that Alex actually found herself missing during WPP, but now loathes. She glances at the clock, and yawns, almost on reflex, berating herself for staying so late. Again.
Her heels squeak against the newly polished floors as she heads for the elevator. She hates being alone in this big, old building, still doesn't feel entirely safe even after years of therapy and treatment for PTSD. She flicks a light switch on, waiting while the different rows of lights slowly flicker into life.
Round the corner, Alex notices another light still on.
She considers ignoring it, leaving it, continuing on home like she hasn't seen it. But she knows that she can't. She knows immediately whose office that is, even before she gets close enough to see that, yes, it's a table lamp still on, and, yes, in that sliver of open door, she can see a figure hunched over their desk.
Knocking, gently, Alex sees Casey's head shoot up from the desk, sees her blinking blearily, trying to work out where she is. Something inside of Alex tugs, a warmth spilling through her that she vaguely recognises as affection, before batting it aside.
"Yes?" Casey's voice is thick with sleep, lower, rougher than usual.
"Hey," Alex says, watching Casey visibly flinch as she realises who has found her, and trying not to feel offended by it, "I'm heading out and I saw your light was still on. Want a ride home?"
Considering the offer, Casey frowns, pushing her hair back from her face. Alex doesn't expect her to accept, isn't really sure why she even asked.
She's surprised when Casey nods, mumbling a "yeah, okay."
They drive in silence, but when they eventually arrive outside of Casey's apartment building - nice neighbourhood, Alex acknowledges - Casey says a soft thank you, and for the first time, the smile she offers Alex seems genuine.
It progresses into coffee with just the right amount of creamer, left silently on desks or pressed into hands in the elevator; into knocking on eachother's doors before they go home at night, just to check the other is leaving at a reasonable time. It's not quite friendship, but it's something, lingering on the borderline. Professionally, they bounce off each other like a well oiled machine, and when Olivia tells her that she'd been worried about Casey coming back, Alex can't help but be defensive.
"We make a good team," she says, nonchalantly, after Liv questions her. And she leaves it at that, even though she catches the way Liv raises her eyebrows, the corner of her mouth turning up ever so slightly.
Olivia Benson knows her better than anyone, after all. At least, she used to.
She's struggling to balance two plastic cups of lemonade and her attache, the spikes of her heels sinking into the soft turf under her feet, August sun beating down hard on her head. In a careful juggling act, she moves the cups to one hand, attache over her shoulder, raises her palm to her forehead, shielding her eyes as they follow the figure a little way ahead.
Casey's hair is in a ponytail, tucked under a navy baseball cap. Her legs look impossibly long under a loose fitting jersey and cycling shorts, heels traded in for sneakers. Alex watches her swing the bat once, twice, three times, each time catching the ball square on, hitting it to the back of the cage, where it bounces off and onto the ground, before she approaches.
"Thought I'd find you here," Alex says, catching Casey's attention before another ball can come hurting towards her.
Her lips twitch up into a faint smile as she gestures for the ball pitcher to be stopped. When she turns to face Alex, she pulls the cap from her head, runs her fingers through messy, slightly curled hair that's come loose, wipes sweat from her forehead.
"You play?" Casey asks, but it's obvious from the teasing look on her face that she knows the answer.
Still, Alex laughs, shakes her head, "I need your signature on the Murdock files," she pauses, holds out a cup, "I brought lemonade."
That makes Casey laugh, accepting the drink and taking a long suck on the straw. Alex has to drag her eyes away from watching the muscles in her throat as she swallows, can't explain why her cheeks start to go pink, an automatic reaction that she pushes aside immediately.
"Mmmm," Casey hums, nodding her appreciation, "okay, since you're here, you're at least trying a couple of balls."
Alarmed, Alex shakes her head, scrunching up her nose in disapproval, "no, c'mon Case… I can't…"
"You can, but you're taking off those shoes," Casey teases, before turning her attention to the kid operating the pitching machine, "just a sec, she's gonna try a couple."
"Casey," Alex tries, rolling her eyes, embarrassed, but Casey's already taking her attache from her, setting their lemonades down in the corner of the cage.
Begrudgingly, Alex takes off her heels, the tarmac hot under her stocking-clad feet, and takes the bat Casey offers her. The object is foreign in her hands, and she knows she looks ridiculous in her pencil skirt and blouse, wielding this bat, not even pretending to know what to do with it.
Casey moves behind her, guides her into position, her hands firm but gentle as they move Alex's along the bat. She stands close, and warmth radiates off of her. Alex lets herself relax into it, Casey's hands covering hers over the bat, moving them in unison. The ball connects with the bat, not quite square on, but near-enough, and glides through the air. Alex can't help but laugh, craning her neck to look at Casey, who is grinning at her. She lets go of Alex's hands, leaves her to hit the next ball by herself. Alex immediately mourns the loss. It's not quite as fluid, but she still strikes the ball, hitting it into the corner of the cage.
"Are you sure you haven't played before?" Casey asks, and Alex turns to look at her, watching her sipping on her lemonade, "you hit like a pro."
"We had a tennis court when I was growing up… it's much the same."
"Mmmhmmm," Casey teases, but she's still grinning as Alex steps back into her shoes, retrieving her own cup of lemonade.
Alex figures they must be friends after that. You don't buy lemonade for people who aren't your friends, and people who aren't your friends don't tease you into trying out a new sport. And from then on, other little hints of friendship seem to seep in: shared lunches and conversations about life outside of work, and walks to grab coffee, and teasing remarks about ex-boyfriends. When they both arrive at the SVU headquarters, laughing about some stupid quip Casey made on the way over there, and Alex meets Olivia's eye, sees her carefully raise an eyebrow, she knows that she may be in too deep, but she can't exactly stop it.
And then it's not just friendship, it's starting to feel like something more, and she's been down this road so many times before, but not with a woman (only once and she'd made such a spectacular mess of that that she doesn't want to think about it) she doesn't know what to do with it. If Casey feels it too, then she's good at hiding it. Despite the rumours - and she's heard them, heard them before she even knew who Casey Novak was, only knew the name by reputation - Casey hasn't made any indication that she'd even be interested in anything, but Alex can feel the attraction, the want building in her, the more they spend time together. Even if it is one sided.
Not that she plans on doing anything about it.
"I assume you're comin' to Casey's birthday drinks?" Fin asks, after they've finished going through case details one afternoon in September.
Alex frowns, "is Casey going to Casey's birthday drinks?" She can't remember the last time the redhead joined them at the bar, if ever. Not that Alex goes all that frequently herself. More often than not, they're both still working on paperwork when the detectives are making a bee-line for the bar.
Still, the fact they've remembered Casey's birthday, that they've made plans to celebrate with her… Alex can't help but love that. She knows coming back to the unit wasn't the easiest thing Casey's ever done, that she and Olivia butted heads a few times before she settled back in.
"Liv says she's handlin' it," Fin says, shrugging, "be good to have you both in one place."
"I can assure you we are both in the same place fairly often," Alex says, smirking, but inside she's panicking, racing through gift options. How could she not know that it's Casey's birthday? She knows it isn't a big deal, that Casey won't care, but she still feels awful.
"So you'll be at Joe's? 9 tonight."
She smiles, "I'll be there."
When Alex stops by her office on the way to her own, Casey's on the phone. She smiles at Alex, waves her in, continuing to talk animatedly on the phone. It's not a personal call; she's discussing a case, arguing with another lawyer from the sounds of things. Alex sits down on the couch across from her desk, watching her. She's been doing that a lot lately.
If Fin hadn't mentioned her birthday, Alex would never have figured it out. There's no flowers on Casey's desk, no stack of cards. There's still nothing personal at all, she realises, nothing to tell this office apart from any of the others, besides the names on the certificates on the wall. No photographs, no pot plants, no softball memorabilia. It's like Casey could leave any time, and there wouldn't even be a trace of her besides lipstick marks on a plain blue mug, scrawled handwriting on a legal pad.
Eventually, Casey hangs up, rolling her eyes in Alex's direction.
"Remind me again why we do this? It's like talking to a brick wall."
Alex knows that feeling well.
"For 'justice'," she says, making air quotes with her fingers.
Casey chuckles, "ah yes… that," her gaze drifts downwards, the softest smile on her lips, then she looks back up at Alex, "what can I do for you, anyway?"
Alex feels a flush begin to crawl up her neck, despite the fact she knew this was coming. She's never been particularly apologetic about giving people gifts, whether that means flowers, or bottles of wine, or just picking up an extra pastry on her way into work and leaving it on somebody's desk; but she suddenly feels self-conscious about this one. Anxious, even.
"I got you something, actually," she says, skin prickled with heat, hoping that Casey can't see it.
Casey frowns, but she's still smiling, "oh?"
"It's… I just saw it and it made me laugh and think of you… uh…" Alex takes the package - a big, square box - out of her purse, scrunches her nose up, "it's… silly really, but, uh… Fin told me it's your birthday."
"Ah, right," Casey says, biting her lip, nodding.
Alex finally hands the box over, sure her whole face must be crimson by now. It had seemed like a good idea when she'd seen it, but now that she's actually handing it over…
Casey opens the box, lifts the item out. It can't take longer than a few seconds, but to Alex it feels like a lifetime. As soon as she's pulled back the tissue paper, she starts to laugh, a deep throaty laugh that Alex hasn't heard before. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
"Oh my god," she pulls the white jersey with the thin navy stripes out of the box, holds it up against herself, still laughing, tracing her fingers over the writing across the front, her name in cursive.
"It's like the one in Disneyland…"
Casey nods, chuckling, "Casey At The Bat… the little cafe. I remember. My parents took a picture of me next to that ugly little statue when I was a kid. Oh, man, it's perfect."
"I figured you can never have too many softball jerseys right?" Alex explains, lamely, still embarrassed. It's such a small, silly gift, but she'd had to rush around to get one in time, calling in favours, pulling strings. And it really isn't that big a deal. She could have bought her something much nicer, but this… this she'd known Casey would like. And it felt somehow more special, more… intimate, after seeing Casey in her softball gear, batting at the cages a few weeks ago. Alex isn't stupid, she knows she's not the first person to see her practice, but it still feels somehow like… something they shared together.
"I don't get to the cages nearly as much as I'd like to anymore," Casey admits, folding the shirt neatly back into the box, "but maybe this will force me to find time."
She closes the space between them, leaning across to press her lips to Alex's cheek. It's such a strange, unfamiliar moment between the two of them that Alex can't help but smile to herself, feeling warmth spread through her again, as it does so often lately. As if she hasn't kissed countless women on the cheek.
"Thank you, Alex, it was really sweet of you to think of me," Casey says, gently, sitting back down at her desk with a stupid little smile on her face.
"You're welcome," Alex breathes, standing up to leave. Then, "Happy birthday."