Author's note: I honestly cannot remember the last time I published a story independently from Liv-x-Case-Benson. However, the idea for this particular fiction came to me recently, and I felt it was one I had to write by myself. I will be updating at least once every week, and perhaps more.

Major themes in this story involve sex, drama, addiction, love, heartbreak, and betrayal. For this reason, it is exclusively rated M. Sit back, enjoy, and please review. Every writer needs readers :).

It shouldn't matter. It should not affect me like this. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as the beautiful redhead placed her scalding tea on her nightstand and laid on her back. Staring at the ceiling, she sighed in despair, folding her arms across her flat stomach. A week ago, she had been happy. Well, she had been stressed and exhausted, but beyond that, she was as happy as an overworked, pregnant and lonely attorney could have been. Now, a mere seven days later, her heart was shattered, her mood sent into a bottomless abyss known by a single moniker: depression.

It had started with four words, as most things tended to do. "We need to talk." Those words could mean any number of things. It could be the boss with a warning, a suspension, or disappointment over the outcome of a trial. It could be a detective with the presentation of a new case. It could be anything. But, coming from one person, it meant something awful. So when Detective Olivia Benson had left a message on Casey's work phone, alerting her that they needed to speak immediately, the hairs on every inch of the redhead's body had shivered to full attention.

After work that night, she had called the detective, wondering what was wrong. It was, of course, a key fact that Olivia's home life involved a wife and unborn child. Casey, forced to sleep alone for weeks, had merely hoped for an explanation. She had futilely wished that the conversation would involve the words "I've been working long hours and something came out of it." Instead, when Olivia had answered the phone, a simple admission had shattered Casey's world.

It had started with a hello. Casey asked what was wrong, immediately noting the frustration and, dare she say, guilt in the detective's voice. Olivia took a deep breath. Casey could picture her rubbing her temples. It was a sign that the brunette was stressed. "Casey, we need to talk."

"Hence the phone call," Casey remembered pointing out. "Although, I cannot begin to understand how this is a conversation better equipped for a phone call. If you won't be home again tonight, just tell me. As it is, I only made enough dinner for myself."

"No, Casey, I won't be home tonight," Olivia admitted. She sighed again. Another pause screamed out of the phone. "Listen, I have to tell you something, and you have to promise me you will forgive me someday. I never wanted to hurt you."

Casey, ever the worrier, had aimlessly stirred her coffee. "Are you leaving me?" she asked, holding her breath as she waited for a response.

"No." Olivia growled lowly. "But after I tell you this, you will almost certainly leave me." Then, as if unable to wait for a response, she launched into explanation. "Casey," she began. "Do you remember two months ago, when I told you I wasn't coming home? I told you I was at work, remember?"

"Yes. And when I went to the precinct to talk to you, you weren't there. I was told you were out for coffee."

"Yes. Except.." A pregnant pause stood between the two women. "I wasn't," she admitted. "I was with someone."

Casey still cursed herself for the next words that had escaped her ruby red lips. "So you were questioning someone. Olivia, I don't care," she remembered saying. "I don't understand why you lied, but we are two months older, and I have not given that night a second thought."
"Well, you need to!" Olivia almost sounded angry. It was as if Casey was a stubborn child, caught playing in the big kid crayons again. "I wasn't with a witness, or a perp, or anyone work related. I was, in a way, but..." She sighed. "That's not the point. I was in a hotel room. I was..with someone. All night, and most of the next morning, I was with someone. And, Casey?" Her voice softened. Now she was the teacher apologizing for yelling at the poor child. "We did things that should be reserved for my wife."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Casey gripped the counter for support. "You cheated on me." It came out as more of a fact, less of a question, and she was too stunned to readjust her tone. "Olivia, I...I don't know what to..." Then she realized the date. "If this is an April fool's joke, it's not funny! Wow, I almost believed you. How could I? You would never hurt us like that."

"Casey, it's April 2nd," Olivia murmured sadly. "No April Fool's joke. This is the truth, no matter how horrible or how cruel. I can't lie to you anymore, sweetheart."
"Don't call me sweetheart!" Casey cried, sadness and anger seizing control of her lips. "Words such as sweetheart are reserved for faithful people. My cheating wife hardly fits that requirement."
"I'm sorry!" Olivia insisted. "Casey, I didn't mean for it to happen. I—we were drunk. I made a mistake."
Casey examined her perfect manicure carefully. "You were drunk when we first slept together too," she replied evenly. Her composure shocked even herself, considering all she wanted to do was throw herself at the wall and cry herself to death. "You make a lot of mistakes when you're drunk."

"Exactly." Olivia gasped as soon as she said it. "Oh, god, Casey, I didn't mean it like that."

"No problem. I have made some mistakes in my life too. One major mistake was marrying someone everyone said was the player of the Special Victims Unit."

"But I love you! I swear on my life, on Sarah's life! I would never do that to you intentionally. It happened once. It should have never happened, and I have spent every night since wishing I could change it. Casey, please believe me. I had to tell you to avoid hurting you."

Casey bit back a sudden flood of tears. "So to avoid hurting me, you confessed, and broke my heart. We would have been okay if I didn't know. Ever hear of blissful ignorance? Well, don't bother coming home. Consider your mistress's home your new abode."

And with that, the attorney slammed her phone onto the counter, watching as the battery cover popped off and the battery slid to the floor. The phone remained hollow, lifeless, unmoving. Its owner slid to the floor, devastated at the confession she had witnessed.

A loud honk shocked her back to the present. Casey sighed sadly, closing her eyes. Olivia still hadn't come home. They saw each other as little as possible. Casey delivered warrants when she knew Olivia would be out, and when Olivia tried to visit her at the office, Casey pretended to be in a meeting. And in court, when they were forced to speak to each other, Casey pretended they were strangers, instead of a married couple.

Olivia called, texted, and emailed. Casey read, ignored, and deleted. She could forgive Olivia. She could act as if nothing was wrong, but the knowledge of being cheated on was like a knife to the heart. The lethal wound could never fully heal, and even if it came close, the scar tissue would be an eternal reminder of the pain.

Casey began to cry softly. She had been in numerous relationships over the course of her life. None had been as passionate or as long lasting as her romance with Olivia. And when Olivia had proposed, just one month into their relationship, Casey had eagerly agreed. They were quickly wedded and bedded, and the redhead had deluded herself into believing in their fairy tale marriage.

Did any such thing exist? Casey sighed. The endless stream of tears down her porcelain cheeks refused to halt. "Olivia, how could you?" she asked the air. To make matters worse, the only thing she knew of the detective's mystery lover was the gender. Olivia would never cheat with a man.

If Casey could say one thing to the bitch, it would be something to the effect of "You're a bitch, a liar, and a whore, and I never thought my wife would stoop so low. Especially not to be with the likes of you." That, of course, would be completely juvenile, but the distressed attorney was too angry and hurt to think of a logical confrontation.

Casey glared at the red flashing numbers of her alarm clock. The sounds of the city, the changing time...everything was moving on, without her. She buried herself beneath the covers, sobbing herself into an uneasy sleep. She gave little concern for her own health. Baby Sarah, however, was the most important thing to her.

A mystery face loomed about the area, shrouded by an enormous question mark. A beautiful detective embraced the figure, kissing the question mark passionately. She whispered loving thoughts into the question mark's ear, empty promises made against her wife. She led the question mark to bed and proceeded to make passionate, steamy love to it. And when it was over, the question mark received an endearing assurance that it was the center of her world. The question mark just smiled, and winked at the person watching.

The watcher was forced to witness another round of passionate sex, full of loud groans of pleasure from the already taken detective. The sex echoed with cries that the question mark was better than the wife could ever be. And a closer glance revealed a horrifying fact: the bed was their bed. The wife was rooted to the ground, forced to watch, unable to avoid the laughter and the screams of ecstasy.

"You're better than she could ever be," the detective moaned. "I love you more than I ever loved her. Compared to you, what could she be? I am unsure if I want to return home. Love me...oh God, don't stop."

Hot tears streamed down the wife's cheeks through another passionate orgasm. She tried to wipe them, but found her arms bound. She gazed at the site before her, her heart shattering more with each passing second. She tried to cry out, to object that the detective was hers, but found herself mute. Unable to speak, unable to move, she could only cry and watch. And as the couple fell into each other's arms, falling into a satisfied sleep, the wife wanted nothing more than death.

"You're more than she could ever be. What is she next to you?" Laughter echoed across the room, bouncing off of the walls. "You're better than she could ever be." The taunt refused to subside. The image of the lovers was branded into her memory forever. "I could never leave your side for hers. Marry me. Marry me when I leave her."

Casey sat up, panting heavily. Throwing the covers off of her, she fumbled for the light switch. The lamp beside the bed illuminated the dark bedroom, throwing long shadows against the wall. It was only a dream. It was only a dream, she assured herself. But there was a single problem with the empty promise. It was more than just a horrifying dream. It was her life. It was her truth. And the empty side of her bed was only a cold reminder of the devastating reality she had been forced into.