A/N: I'm still nervous about posting for this pairing but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.
It's not that she doesn't know how to vacation, more that she… enjoys working.
That's what Casey keeps telling herself as she thumbs through copies of case files she was 100% told to leave in the office - by separate people - sitting at the desk in her plush hotel room. The sun is bright and strong, streaming through the open drapes on the other side of the room and spilling onto the legal pad she's jotting away on.
Vacations are overrated, anyway. It's not like she has the kind of job where she can afford to be away from it for long periods of time. It's not like she has a job that's unimportant. In fact, she's overcome by how important it is on a daily basis, just how integral her role is in keeping assholes - child molesters, and murderers, and rapists - off the street.
Okay, maybe she doesn't know how to vacation.
Casey sighs, folding her notes away and resting her head on her palm, elbow on the desk.
She can hear children playing outside on the beach that's only a short distance from her hotel, laughter, dogs yapping. The smell of sea air is such a stark contrast to back home, to the polluted air of New York City. That was why she'd come here - and Olivia had raised her eyebrows when she told her, clearly taking her for the cultural type, rather than the type to lie on a beach with a romance novel (which, to be fair, she is). Something had made her nostalgic. A case that had hit too close to home, taking her back to childhood vacations; tossing a ball about on a sandy beach, the gentle slap of waves against her carves, struggling to stand on the slippery surface around a rock pool as she tried to net a crab.
As soon as Casey'd arrived here, though, she'd realised there was nothing for her here. Not now.
She's resigned herself to spending most of this vacation taking advantage of the heavily stocked mini bar, and room service. It's only a week. She can force herself not to work for a week. Surely.
She's no good at just sitting still, either, so after an hour of flipping through TV channels and sipping on overpriced beer, she's restless, already contemplating going back over her files.
Reluctantly, she opts instead for going down to the beach front.
The buildings along the sea front are all different sizes, all painted different bright colors. Though many of the store fronts and apartments have changed since Casey's childhood, there's something unmistakably familiar about all of them and it's oddly comforting. She remembers the bright turquoise colored ice-cream parlour that she'd begged her parents to take her to every summer, insisting that one day she'd live in an apartment building exactly the same color.
Casey sighs, drifting away from the large crowds of people milling about through the rows of concession stands and stores. The beach is patterned with people, sunbathing under parasols and spread out on sun-loungers, children playing in the waves. She doesn't feel like she belongs amongst any of them, and finds herself heading up the hill to where it's quieter, where the only company is a few older people walking their dogs, and a couple talking softly on a brick wall. She walks without thinking, letting the wind lack at the loose strands of her hair, the sun beating down on her.
"Well, there's somebody with legs even paler than mine," a woman says, and Casey flinches, looking up in confusion for the source of the voice.
She does a double take.
Alexandra Cabot.
She's wearing a sheer white sleeveless button down and black shorts, her hair up in a messy ponytail (Casey had no idea she was even capable of looking anything short of perfectly put together), black-rimmed glasses perching on the end of a lightly freckled nose. And sure enough, her legs are milk white, her arms too. She's unmistakable, and yet Casey can't help but feel like she's seen a ghost.
"Of all the people to bump into in a quaint little seaside town…" Alex continues, and there's a bright smile on her face, her eyes a perfect twinkling shade of ocean blue, "Casey Novak. I hardly recognised you. I didn't even know you owned casual clothes that weren't for playing Softball in."
Casey feels the blush rise to her cheeks, familiar and embarrassing, "Al—" she starts, and then swallows the name, looking around them cautiously at passers by, "I feel like I shouldn't be talking to you."
If Alex is concerned, though, she doesn't show it, just smiles wider, "let me take you for lunch."
Despite everything telling her this is a bad idea, Casey agrees to go to lunch with Alex. That in itself seems odd. It's not as though they are friends; quite the opposite, in fact. Alex's presence had been like a tower looming over Casey for much of her career, or at least the notable parts. Everybody knew Alexandra Cabot at the DA's office. Casey had been aware of her before she'd been asked to take over her position at SVU; how could she not be? One of the youngest senior ADAs, Alex walked around the building, and subsequently courtrooms, like she owned them, never a hair out of place, perfectly manicured and with perfect posture. When Casey had joined the DA, she'd been instantly intimidated by her, and even after three years of taking over her position with the special victims unit - including prosecuting the man who had attempted to murder Cabot, just a year previously - that feeling had never left. Casey had found her place within the unit, within her office, had proved herself a suitable substitution for the blonde attorney in plenty of ways, but she still had this prickling feeling that they would always compare her to the great Alexandra Cabot, always prefer her.
During her brief stint out of witness protection, Alex hadn't given Casey much of a reason to think otherwise. If anything, she seemed dubious of her credentials, unwilling to trust that the younger attorney (though only by a couple of years) had what it took to get her would-be murderer locked up.
But, Casey had won the case.
Not that she really knows what Alex's reaction to that was, because she'd been whisked away back into protection before any of them could really get to grips with what had happened.
Still, as Casey follows Alex across the boardwalk, she can't help but feel uncomfortable. Not only because she's still intimidated by Alex, but because she knows that she's breaking rules by being here, by talking with her. She's putting Alex in danger, but, in true Cabot style, she is completely laid back and nonchalant about that, which just makes her all the more frustrating.
Casey's good at breaking rules, but only on her own terms.
They duck into a small cafe along the winding road away from the beach front, and Casey feels a little of the tension in her shoulders droop, but not much.
"Good afternoon, Magda," Alex greets the older woman behind the counter with a typical Cabot smile.
"Miss Christine, good to see you! Will you be having your usual?"
There's a familiarity between them that almost makes Casey's heart ache in her chest, a weird longing she can't put a name on.
"Yes, please, and the same for my companion," she glances at Casey, "the cheese scones here are to die for, just trust me."
Baffled, Casey nods, and watches as Magda flicks a switch on an ancient looking coffee machine, and begins to take things out of their little plastic displays, dishing them out onto plates. She has to admit, what Alex has picked out looks nice, especially in comparison to the candy bars and chips she's been eating back at the hotel.
They settle into a table in the far corner of the cafe with their coffees, cheese scones with soft cheese and smoked salmon, and pastries. Alex immediately tucks in, leaving a strange silence between them, which Casey eventually breaks.
"So, Christine, huh?"
"Suits me better than Emily, don't you think?"
Casey frowns, "I wouldn't know," she says, though she agrees that it does.
Alex looks at her with a sort of bemused expression, folding her hands in her lap as she chews on her scone, "who would have thought I'd ever be glad to see Casey Novak."
"There's no need to be mean," Casey huffs, "just because you bought me lunch doesn't mean—"
"Sorry, I really am glad to see you," Alex touches her hand briefly across the table, before pulling away, "I just can't believe that of all the people for me to bump into here, it's you. God, I miss New York."
Picking at her scone - Alex is right, of course; it's delicious. Then again, she's right about everything all the time which is one of her most infuriating qualities - Casey chews slowly before leaning forward, "I don't think we are supposed to be talking, especially not in public. Anyone could hear our conversation and—"
"Who? I'm pretty sure if Magda was going to kill me, she'd have done it already. I come in here every other day."
Casey pauses, looking around her at the deserted cafe, and relents, "fine. How are you?" she asks, awkwardly.
Alex shrugs, sipping her coffee, "bored, mostly."
"Yeah, I didn't really take you for a small-towner."
"I could say the same about you," Alex says, lips twitching into a half-smirk.
"My dad's unit was stationed around here for a few years - I grew up in the area," Casey says, feeling suddenly embarrassed about releasing such personal information. She'd felt silly enough deciding to come here, all these years later, without anybody knowing about it.
Alex's smile is warm, genuine, though, "you still have family around here?"
"No - I haven't been back here since I was eight years old."
Alex grins, "I can so picture an eight year old Casey Novak with her bright red hair and only half her teeth, terrorising the teenage boys on the beach and kicking their asses at sports."
Blushing, Casey rolls her eyes, "I don't know about that."
They sit in a strained silence for a few minutes, Alex spooning creamer into her coffee, Casey chewing on her scone, staring at the table top. It's understandable. Despite having the same job, the same colleagues… they really have nothing in common. Or, at least, they know nothing about each other. Under any other circumstance, they wouldn't be talking.
If Casey's honest with herself, this is more about her than Alex anyway. She's never been good at small talk, especially with somebody who she's spent so much time trying to step out from the shadow of.
"How's New York?" Alex finally asks, lifting her coffee cup to her lips.
"You know… the same," Casey replies, her lips turning up into a smile as she adds, "Liv's cut her hair off. Again."
Alex genuinely laughs at that, full bodied and without ambition, and that causes Casey to laugh too. It feels weird, laughing over something so stupid, but it's contagious. Until it isn't, and Alex looks like she's about to break.
"I miss her. Every so often, I'll see something that makes me think of her, or I'll just be struck with the urge to call her, and I don't think I'll ever get past the fact that I can't. I miss all of them."
"They miss you too," Casey says, quietly, her throat dry.
"You know what I do for work here?" Alex leans back in her seat, head back, trying to disguise the sudden tears that have sprung in her eyes, "I work at the front desk of a hotel. It's so boring. I have to wear this stupid fake smile… you know how often I have to bite my tongue not to say something snarky?"
Chuckling, Casey nods, "I can take a guess, yeah."
"Where are you staying, anyway?"
"The Cannery?"
Alex laughs, "no way - I work right next door, at the Harbor House."
Casey quirks an eyebrow, "you have a cute lil uniform there? Does it have a necktie? God I hope it has a necktie."
Rolling her eyes, Alex shakes her head, leaning forward on her elbows as though it's a secret, "a waistcoat."
Laughing, Casey takes a long drink of coffee, "now that I need to see."
"I'll give you a wave as you walk past tomorrow after breakfast."
Casey grins, "I'll hold you to that."
"Speaking of which," Alex glances at her watch and frowns, "I'm going to have to head out. You headed back to the hotel? Fancy company?"
Despite not having any intentions of going back to her hotel having only just left it, Casey readily agrees, and finishes up her coffee in one last gulp. It seems weird, how easily she and Alex have fallen into step with one another, but it's a relief too. As much as Casey's friends might have thought she needed this vacation, knowing somebody in this town of strangers is oddly comforting.
Even if it is Alexandra Cabot.