Title: My Brother's Keeper
Author: kry
Email: Kry.for. AC
Warnings: Abuse, rape, some language.
Spoilers: Some reference to "Night" Other case file information is entirely fictional.
Chapter One: My Knight in Tarnished Armor
"We find the defendant Jacob-Ray McCoy guilty on all charges."
The courtroom erupted in a cataclysm of reaction. JR McCoy's brothers, James and Jackson McCoy sat behind him, whispering quietly between them as their brother was taken from the court room. They stood simultaneously, their jackets draped casually over their bent arms, their expressions melancholy and disappointed, and walked out of the courtroom. No one noticed their exit.
"He got the death penalty." Casey Novak, stated, standing in front of the joined desks of Detectives Benson and Stabler, her burgundy suit jacket sleeves wrinkling as she crossed her arms.
"I thought he'd get life. What happened?" Olivia Benson said, not looking up at her from the case file she was reading.
"Well, he admitted to four other rape homicides. We gave him a deal if he would just out his accomplices. He just refused our offer, saying that it was all his doing. When we told him that the bruising wasn't consistent, he just claimed he came back numerous times. We have no other semen specimens, no other DNA but his, its open and shut. He's going to death row."
Benson shifted in her seat, closing the case file and staring up at the ADA. She furrowed her brow, and spoke, "Do you honestly believe there were accomplices?"
"Well, not without doubt. But there isn't anyone we can guess he would cover for. His brothers had individual alibis, and they checked out okay. We have no reason not to just believe him."
"Or just wait to see if his accomplices continue to attack women." It was the first time Detective Stabler had spoken. They sat in silence for a while, looking between the three of them; Casey Novak was the first to speak:
"Let's just hope there are no accomplices. For once, I want to get the perp in jail, without it falling apart or without having to establish some bogus deal."
It was a busy night. The overcrowded bar buzzed with the beginning of the weekend. She sat alone, sipping her beer little by little, taking her time with her consumption she still had to get home after all, and cab drivers in New York were all but friendly.
She turned around, feeling eyes on her back, only to turn to the face of Jackson McCoy.
"Hello counselor." He said, his azure eyes blazing with inhibitors, his speech slurring against his will.
"Eat the worm did you McCoy? Where's your designated driver?"
"Cute, Counselor Novak, very cute. Tequila burns when it goes down, lets you know you're still alive. Have some with me?"
She raised her beer bottle, and shook her head left to right; she'd rather not get trashed at a bar with a suspect from the trial she recently closed. She looked him over. During the prosecution of his brother, Jackson McCoy was very understanding, very helpful; charismatic even. She was happy when he was acquitted for suspicion of co-conspiracy. He sat next to her then, ordering tequila for himself, the house beer for her.
"So Counselor, do you have a first name, I mean, you know mine. What's yours? Oh wait! Let me guess, everyone calls you Novak huh?" He kicked back his shot of tequila, grimacing as it burned down his throat, and smiling as she looked to him.
"Why do you want to know?" She took the beer sitting in front of Jackson McCoy, nodding her thanks and she twisted the top off the bottle.
"Beautiful women deserve great names. I want to know if yours does you justice." He smiled his slanted smile. The slur in his voice, she noticed, was apart of his candor, he talked with the tip of his tongue.
"My name," she took another sip of her beer, "is Casey."
"Very well then, may I call you Casey?"
"Well, it is my name after all. You never answered my question, McCoy—"
"Jackson, my name is Jackson. You can use mine too, you know, the case is over."
"Well, Jackson, where is your designated driver?" She brushed her blonde bangs behind her ear, the pale nape of her neck somewhat warm in the lighting from the bar.
"If you mean James, Miss Novak," he said the name slowly and deliberately, the slanted smile disappearing from his features, replacing it with a stiff, nervous one, "I am not my brother's keeper."
"I see. What do you keep for your brother then?" Her fingertip swirls around the opening of her beer bottle, she looks at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I keep nothing for my brother. I take it we are no longer talking about James here. As well as J.R., he is my brother, but he cannot be forgiven for what he's done. He is family, and I don't want to see him die. No one wants that. But if that is the only way he can be punished for his crimes, he should have thought about the consequences ahead of time." He swallowed another shot of tequila, this time sans the grimace.
"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."
"No, it's okay." There was a pause between them. "So, what's a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this, all alone?"
She threw her head back at that, feeling the laughter travel from her stomach to her throat, coming out in husky spurts of giggling.
" Do you use that line on every woman you meet at a bar on Friday night?"
He smiled again, this time, ordering an iced tea. "Ah, and here I thought I was being charming. So, you don't enjoy your nights with someone special?"
"I don't get much time for a personal life, Jackson. With my job and all. So unless my someone special is case notes and preparation speeches, then no, no one special."
She looked at her watch then, ten thirty already. She drank the rest of her beer, sliding her stool away from the bar.
"It's been great, but I do believe I have an early morning tomorrow. It was, uh, nice."
She pulled her money from her pocket to pay for her tab when his hand rose in objection.
"I'll take care of it. Maybe we can do this again sometime, on purpose though."
She tilted her head to the side, smiling at the enigmatic man, "Maybe."
There were flowers waiting for her when she came to her office the next morning. She had lost taste for flowers after the night she was attacked. But the ones sitting on her desk were beautiful. She looked through the arrangement, yellow tulips, thornless roses, and gardenias. She searched the flowers for a card, finding one, hidden slightly under the arrangement.
She read it aloud. "I would explain to you what the meaning of this arrangement is, but then I'd lose my excuse to see you again. Come find out, you owe me tequila. –Jackson."
There was a time and address at the bottom of the card, her curiosity getting the best of her; she decided she would give Jackson a chance.
"Who are the flowers from?"
She was startled by Detective Stabler. She hadn't heard the door open, but it had, she quickly slipped the card into her blazer, leaning her hands on her desk.
"Oh the Robinson family sent there thanks." She pushed her bangs behind her ear.
"Oh, okay, well, I stopped by to see if you could get a warrant for our new case. We need DNA to place the suspect at the scene."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do."
She watched Elliot's eyes squint under his expressive eyebrows, and she watched him leave her office, closing the door behind him.
There were rumors going around the one-six, lately. This week it was her and Stabler, last week it was her and Munch. She usually laughed them off. All of the guys in the unit were like family, especially John and Elliot. And she knew exactly what Elliot would say if she had told him who the card was from. And this time she really didn't feel like the lecture. She wanted to judge Jackson's character for herself.
She walked into the bar, scanning the small crowd that gathered. She saw him, after the second glance, at a small booth near the back corner of the bar. She straightened her blazer, and walked toward his direction. His sandy brown hair was somewhat disheveled, his tie loosened, his arm sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his watch tightly fastened around his somewhat hairy forearm; he didn't notice her walk up to him, checking his watch before looking up to greet her. He stood.
"I wasn't sure you were coming, started to get a little nervous. Have a seat, I ordered for you, I hope you don't mind."
She sat, pulling off her blazer, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. She looked at the amber liquid in front of her.
"I know, you don't like tequila, I'll have the barman bring you beer if you like, and we can just leave it in case you want it later."
She quirked her eyebrow. "That's fine. So, what do the flowers mean?"
He laughed then, a throaty, full laugh that left her smiling in its wake.
"Straight to the point, huh? I was surprised you didn't do some research. I was chancing that your curiosity would lead you here, until a few minutes ago I didn't think you would show up. But we can go over that later, don't want to satisfy your curiosity yet, you might leave me all alone then. How about we get to know each other."
She brushed her bangs behind her ear, cocking her head as the bartender dropped the beer off at the table, smiling at her before retiring to his post.
"Well, Jackson, what do you want to know about me?"
"Tell me something I don't know about you already."
He sat back, twiddling his thumbs.
"Well, what do you know about me, lets not be redundant."
"Well…" He sat forward, his elbows supporting his weight on the table. "I know you're an ADA for the Special Victims Unit. I know you're very well spoken, very intelligent. The rest, well, hopefully I'll get to know a little more about you tonight, personal things, not work related."
"Okay…"
"And nothing obvious."
"Well, I don't date much."
"Why not, it seems like guys would be lining up to date you."
"On the contrary, Jackson, not too many guys can respect an independent woman."
"Yea, understandable, what's your favorite color?"
"That's random. I like green."
"I guessed right. Which shade of green?"
"Any really. I like to stand out in what I wear, so green contrasts well with my complexion."
"I see, I see."
"Tell me something about you, Jackson."
"Well, I'm a customer service rep at a bank. I don't date, well, I don't find many women appealing…until now. My favorite color is white-"
"White? That's a first."
"Well, if you can call it a color. But it's just so—so clean, unmarred, it's just nice."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Shoot, Casey."
"What do the flowers mean?"
He chuckled then. Brushing his hand threw his hair he looked away then, he looked back to her.
"Well, the yellow tulips mean, there is sunshine in your smile, the gardenias mean you're lovely and the thornless roses mean love at first sight."
Casey took that moment to grab the tequila in front of her and down it, swallowing the burn along with it.
It was almost eleven, the bar, buzzing on the Saturday night, muffled the echoes of laughter coming from the booth near the back. They sat, laughing at the series of questions that had come pouring from their mouths after the first few glasses of tequila.
"What was your most embarrassing moment?" She took the bread stick sitting in between them, biting the corner of the garlic bread as she smiled at him. He rubbed his eyes, looking up at her, smiling when he realized when it was.
"It was, the night I lost my virginity. Well, when I was supposed to."
"When you were supposed to? You had it planned?" She asked, as her curiosity peaked.
"Well, we were fumbling around the back seat of my old Chevy and I was in such a rush. I wound up catching myself in my zipper."
"Wow that must've hurt like hell."
"Yea it did. I didn't expect her to talk to me after that, but after it healed, she laughed at me for a while. I never lived it down."
"How old were you?"
"I think, I was nineteen. Yea, I was nineteen, which is why she found it so funny. Told me I should be used to unzipping my pants by now. When did you lose your virginity?"
She blushed then, the table instantly quieted, her head ducking as if someone threw something at her.
"Sorry, Casey don't answer, it's personal, I shouldn't have—"
She laughed awkwardly then, looking him in the eye, and cocking her head to the side.
"We are both adults, here, I can take it."
"Yea…" His hand, brushed through his hair again.
"Well, the day I lost my virginity is…" She blew air through her pursed lips, her eyes angling upward as if trying to remember. "…is to be announced."
The look on his face was confusion first, until her answer registered.
"You mean? You're saying? You've never?—"
She tucked that pesky strand of hair behind her ear again, smiling her uncomfortable smile.
"Yea, in this day in age it must seem like a taboo. I'm almost thirty years old. When I was younger it was all about that special someone, I thought that way for a long time, abstaining from anything other than companionship. I went to college, deciding that relationships were distracting. I graduated soon after, law school next on my list. I met my fiancé there. He respected my beliefs, never pushed, or got frustrated. Then he got sick. After we broke up, I couldn't give myself to anyone else, it seemed like betrayal. I graduated from law school top of my class, people respected me. After a while I just got used to the idea. It'll happen, whenever it's supposed to."
She swallowed her fourth shot of tequila that night.
"That's something you didn't know about me, huh?"
"I'm impressed."
"Impressed Jackson, how so?"
"Yes, I mean, it's good you have respect for yourself. You have to respect yourself before anyone else can. And I mean, come on Casey, you demand your respect, I've seen you in action." He smiled then, that same slanted smile he did before, the one that gave her butterflies. It was something that beckoned her. It pulled her in.
"And whoever gets to have you, I'm sure, he'll deserve you. You know even if that guy isn't me."
She woke up with her head thrumming. She was aware of hangovers, just never those of this magnitude. She took her time to take in her surroundings, not quite familiar with the bedroom she was in. It was still somewhat dark, maybe before five probably. She got up, confused when she looked down at the oversized t-shirt she wore.
"Where am I?" She mused as she walked into the living room of the large apartment. She looked toward the oversized sofa, noticing Jackson sleeping soundly on it, the television set blaring some infomercial. She grabbed her clothes from the puddle on the floor, near the door, they were somewhat wet. Before she could get back to the bathroom, Jackson woke.
"Leaving so soon? I was hoping for breakfast." He sat up then, rubbing his eyes.
"Sorry, I don't really remember much from yesterday."
"Oh—well you had a few more tequilas, we hailed a cab and you fell asleep, I thought my place was better since—well, I don't know where you live. It started raining, so I let you borrow one of my shirts, you can wash your clothes if you like, there's no rush, grab some coffee?"
She didn't know what to say, she looked down again, her pale bare legs cold against the morning air. He was a nice guy, she could relax around him.
She sat at the kitchen table as he made coffee, her stomach growling all the while.
"I have some bagels, want one?"
"Sure, that would be nice."
They sat in silence as they ate,
"So, did you enjoy yourself last night?"
"Yea, it was…interesting. It was nice to let loose and get out."
"Same here. So I take it we can do it again sometime?"
"I think so, that would be nice."
Monday morning was different this week. She walked in, her stride confident, yet relaxed, the smile seemed permanently fixed on her face. It was nice that there were still great men out there. She was glad that there were still men that respect boundaries and knew how to treat women. With all the gruesome things she witnessed in the SVU, she didn't know if genuine people still existed. The realization that she'd been proven wrong was a great feeling. It was a great irony.
That Sunday was great. She felt comfortable around Jackson. Sitting half naked at his kitchen table eating bagels was no problem; it was as comfortable as she would've been in her own apartment. It frightened her somewhat, while at the same time quieted her fears. She gave him a kiss when he dropped her at her apartment that afternoon, after they watched some television while her clothes dried. It was a simple kiss, yet one that assured more to come. She was enthused, she wanted to see him again, and see him she would.
"More flowers Casey? When are you going to tell us his name?"
"If there was a him, you'd know."
"Which I'm asking for a name, come on you've been walking around with a silly grin all day, spill it."
"Olivia…"
"Casey, come on you know I'll keep your secret."
"You mean I know you and Elliot will keep my secret."
Olivia rolled her eyes.
"Fine. His name is Jackson."
"How'd you meet him?"
"I met him at one of the trials."
"A lawyer Casey, really?"
"No…."
"Well then—"
The big 'O' formed on her face, then fell into a smirk.
"Jackson McCoy? Casey…of all people."
"He's sweet."
"If you say so. I don't even want to tell Elliot this one; you'll have to do that one on your own. But, I'm glad he makes you happy."
It was Casey's turn to roll her eyes. She chuckled then, noticing the bewilderment on Olivia's face.
"One step at a time Liv, I'm not getting married."
"Well, be careful. You don't know anything about him."
"Yea most people don't know about each other until they date. I'll be fine."
"When is the next time you're going out?"
"This Wednesday, he said he wants to take me somewhere."
"Okay. Call me and let me know how it goes."
"Liv, don't worry about it, I'll be fine."
"If you say so Casey."
It was beautiful. The field was heavenly at night, the lights cascading over the bases left room to see the stars. She sat down with him then, on the checkered blanket he brought, and looked to him. He brought wine with him, for her, while he sipped on his tequila, basking in the sight of the night.
"This is beautiful Jackson." He poured some wine into her glass; she cupped the glass as she drank, still staring into the sky.
"Yea, when you told me you like softball I just had to bring you here. It's like heaven." He looked at her then, watching as her gaze faltered to her drink. "Feels like you're floating on clouds. Doesn't it Casey."
Her eyes fluttered then, to heavy to keep open, she felt nauseous.
"Casey, doesn't it feel like you're floating?"
She couldn't answer, her lips numb. And then, all she saw was black.
