Notes on an Aftermath

Chapter One: Helluva Night

Everyone is in a stunned silence as they watch the sector car containing Chester pulling away and off to the nearest precinct. The whole scene had been shocking; no one thought that Chester would take it this far. It is ironic that he'd been found innocent for one murder only to commit one. A cop in handcuffs just isn't something other cops really want nor like to see, especially not the good ones. Perhaps the most tragic revelation to come out of the entire situation is that none of them had really known Detective Chester Lake at all.

"I could have stopped him," Fin says, shaking his head.

"Don't blame yourself, Fin," Olivia says softly.

"It's too late, Liv," he says flatly. "I already do."

Thomas Crane's body lies dead behind them, his temple blown off and bloodied. A fitting end to a dirty cop and rapist. However, the cost…it had been too great. Lives have been irrevocably changed, careers destroyed, loyalties and friendships have been broken and compromised. Whether that much can be salvaged, it remains yet to be seen.

Melinda walks up to them, her kit in hand and a somber look on her face. The helplessness is almost palpable between them, and her heart goes out to them and to Chester. They all know that they cannot get involved in this case. Conflict of interest and other matters will arise and make things that much more difficult for everyone.

"I'm sorry," she says softly before going over to the body.

Deciding that they'd seen enough for one night, Fin and Munch leave the scene.

Olivia looks over and sees Casey looking at Thomas Crane's body, transfixed. Olivia goes over and puts a hand on the younger woman's back.

"C'mon Casey, let's get out of the way," Olivia says softly.

She ushers Casey out into the street. Tears are clouding her vision and she can barely see two feet in front of her, let alone focus on the task of getting out of Melinda and CSU's way. Her stomach is twisting and clenching within her, making her feel even more nauseous.

She feels the bile rise up in her throat and she covers her mouth and rushes over to the alley across the street and vomits into a trash can, her nervousness and anxiety taking her over. She runs her fingers through her hair and holds it back as she vomits again. She feels a hand on her back and she straightens up.

"Are you alright?" Olivia asks.

"Yeah," Casey sighs. "I'm going home."

"Are you okay to drive?" Olivia asks. "I can take you home."

"No, I'm fine, Liv," Casey insists. "Thanks though."

Casey walks down the street to her car.

Meanwhile, Cragen approaches his now four member squad, hands in his pockets and a solemn look on his face.

"I understand and appreciate that emotions are running high right now but none of you are to go near this case," he warns. "Internal Affairs and the homicide unit from the 3-2 will investigate Detective Lake's actions. It's out of our hands as of ten minutes ago. If I find any of you anywhere near Lake or this case…I won't hesitate to suspend you without pay. Understood?"

Everyone nods.

Cragen looks over at Thomas Crane's body, stoic. He has mixed feelings about Thomas Crane's death. Of course, he doesn't agree with vigilantism, but sometimes, the law just doesn't work all the time and it becomes a question of balancing the scale.

A van from New York One news station pulls up to the scene along with a group of reporters, ready to spin the story, as they always do.

"Captain Cragen!"

"Here comes the shit storm," Fin grouses.

"Captain Cragen, can you tell us what happened tonight?"

"Captain, was Thomas Crane really guilty?"

"Did a cop kill another cop?"

"At this time, I have no comments to those questions," Cragen says. "But as of fifteen minutes ago, the Hernandez case, and now the Crane case are no longer Special Victims' Unit cases, and my detectives and myself have been instructed to stay hands off. Thank you."

He walks back toward the other detectives.

"All of you go home," Cragen instructs. "There's nothing more that we can do here."

With that Cragen turns and goes back over to his car.

Fin and Munch head out, and Elliot and Olivia follow.

"You want to go get a drink or something?" Elliot asks.

"El, you need to go see your family," Olivia says. "They haven't seen your face in two days. I'm actually going to check up on Case…she got sick so I'll call you later, alright? Go be with Kath and the kids."

"Okay," he says, then he furrows his eyebrows when he looks past Olivia at a woman with short brown hair, clutching her purse to herself. There are tears running down her eyes.

"What?" Olivia asks.

"Isn't that Kralik's widow?" He asks, and Olivia turns to look.

"Yeah, I think so," Olivia says.

Marion Kralik approaches them, sniffling and wiping her tears.

"Mrs. Kralik?" Olivia inquires.

"Yes," Marion says. "Thomas is dead?"

"Yes ma'am," Olivia says. "I'm sorry Mrs. Kralik."

Marion shakes her head. "It's not right…it just isn't right."

With that, Marion heads off.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chester makes it a point to hold his head up high as he is escorted down the hallway of the 32nd precinct to the processing unit. He is not ashamed of what he did, and he is willing to face the consequences. He's never been one to blame others for his mistakes, not even as a child. He has always taken responsibility for his actions, and he's never made excuses for things he's done or hasn't done.

On the way to the precinct, there'd been no conversation past him confirming that he does understand his rights. Donovan and Meyers, the arresting officers hadn't said a word, and that had been okay with Chester. It was already awkward enough that cops were arresting a cop, so what else was there to be said? The silence had allowed him to gather his thoughts and to prepare himself for the long hours and subsequently, days ahead.

When they'd first arrived to the precinct, he'd been taken to the fourth floor to the homicide unit. It had only taken maybe twenty minutes to confess and write out and sign his statement.

Now, they are downstairs, and he is on his way to the holding cell.

There is a tall, but rather overweight officer with a clip board in hand, writing down something.

"Full name, please," the officer, Officer Davis asks, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Chester Michael Lake," Chester says as he feels the handcuffs being taken from around his wrists.

"Date of birth?"

"December 5, 1973."

"Height?"

"Six feet."

"Weight?"

"One eighty."

"Are you under the influence of any drugs or alcohol?"

"No."

"Are you currently on any medications?"

"No."

After Officer Davis takes down the essential information then he escorts Chester down to be fingerprinted. Chester presents his hands, palms down, fingers spread in anticipation of those instructions.

He admits to himself that being on the other side is uncomfortable and disconcerting, but it helps to know what he's in for, to know the process. He supposes that it would be different if didn't have any inside knowledge of police matters. Since he knows it all like the back of his hand, it makes things a bit less complicated for him.

After he is printed, he is handed a name plate.

"Please stand on this yellow line here, face forward."

He does as he is asked. There is a flash from the camera, taking his mug shots.

"Turn to your left."

Another flash.

"Turn to your right."

Another flash.

The name plate is taken from him then he is taken to the properties clerk. The clerk is a middle aged woman with a mole in the middle of her chin, and salt and pepper hair that looked like straw sitting in a mass on top of her head. She isn't too pleasant looking over all, and it is clear that she would much rather be home than at her post.

She hands him a plastic bag.

"Please place any and all personal property into this bag," she says. "Please be notified that the department is not liable for any lost, stolen, or damaged property. Your property will be checked out and returned to you upon your release or before prison transport. Do you understand these policies?"

"Yeah," Chester says.

He first takes out his wallet from his back pocket and he opens it up, taking a look at a picture. He sighs and closes his wallet and places it into the bag. Next he puts his watch into the bag then he takes out his cell phone. He flips it open and sends a text message, then he turns it off, closes it and puts it into the bag as well.

He hands the bag back to the clerk who then writes on the bag and then puts it into a bin next to her.

"Have a nice evening."

Officer Davis takes him further down the hall and into the holding cells.

He slides open the gate and Chester steps in.

"You'll get your first phone call in a couple of hours," Officer Davis says. "You'll be escorted to the courthouse at seven AM for arraignment. Nighty-night."

Chester turns round and he sees two women, both of them hookers and another man in the cell they are sharing for the night. He takes his jacket off and then he drapes it over the bench in the center of the cell before sitting. He rests his elbows on his knees and looks down at the concrete floor. He knows that he won't get his first phone call in a couple of hours, judging from how crowded the holding cells already are. He expects that he will get his first phone call at least after two o'clock in the morning, and that he won't get his next meal until he arrives at Rikers Island.

He sighs and lays onto his back on the bench, placing a hand under his head, and then he settles in for the longest night of his life.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Casey is more than a little exhausted as she sits on the toilet seat in her bathroom, nothing but a tank top and panties on mainly trying to cope with everything that's happened, and thinking of her next move. When her feet had finally allowed, Casey managed to get herself to her car and head home. She is tired, sick, and nervous, but she will not be able to sleep tonight.

The tears come again, and she buries her face in her hands.

There were always those cases. The ones where they stirred up her righteous indignation and caused her to put everything she consciously believes in on the line in order to win. She just couldn't help herself. This time, though, no one won this one. There'd been losses all around and she cannot decide if it'd all been worth it yet.

She has to meet with Jack McCoy in the morning about her position as ADA. She will most likely resign, just to divert the attention away from the office itself and it will just make things easier on both herself and McCoy. Her pride is hurt, and she really doesn't want to give up her position, nor does she want to face the disciplinary board in two weeks. She doesn't know what she will do if her license is suspended, but she thinks that maybe it just might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. She will have the time to think about other aspects of her life.

She runs her fingers through her hair then she gets up and stares at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red and bloodshot from all of her crying, and her cheeks are stained with tears. She takes in a deep breath then she lets it out. She bites her lower lip as she opens her medicine cabinet and takes out a box. She closes the cabinet and then she inspects the box.

It is a Clearblue pregnancy test kit, and she figures now is as good a time as any to take it. She's been putting it off for three weeks now, not completely convinced that she may be pregnant. Even with feeling nausea and dizziness in the mornings, with her moods beginning to spiral out of her control, and her craving for mangoes and bananas, both which she can't stand, she didn't want to even think of being pregnant as a possibility. Skipping her period prompted her to buy the test, but she'd been too stubborn to take it.

She opens up the box and takes out the test, then she flips the box over to see how long it will take for the result to show. It is a digital read out, so she doesn't have any lines to worry about. It will take two minutes.

She takes the test, then she replaces the cap back onto the test strip end, and places it onto the counter with the window face down.

By the time she finishes using the bathroom, the test beeps, indicating that the result is ready. She stares at the test for a moment, contemplating whether she really wants to know or not, but the rational part of her knows that she will know one way or the other, the only difference being time. She swallows thickly then she picks up the test and flips it over.

PREGNANT.

She grins a bit, and puts the test down. She sits on the toilet again and her hands immediately go to her abdomen. She rubs over her stomach and she begins to get used to the idea of a baby. She has always wanted to be a mother. Of course, certain things have taken a backseat to her career, but now, she feels blessed with the opportunity to become a mother. She closes her eyes and a smile blooms on her face and she feels the tears running down her cheeks. She wipes her cheeks and sighs.

"Okay," she says quietly as she gets up.

She picks up the test and puts it into the box and then throws the box away.

Casey pushes her hair behind her ears.

She supposes she is seven, maybe eight weeks along so she isn't showing yet, but she can't wait until she does show. She can't wait to see her baby's first picture, to feel her baby move inside her. She already feels overwhelming love for her baby and it is amazing to her because she imagines that right now, it is probably very tiny. The thought causes a tear to spill over onto her cheek and she catches it, then she goes out of her bathroom.

She picks up a pair of jeans that she had draped over the chair in her room.

She pulls them on and then she grabs a light jacket from her closet. She goes over to her bedside table and picks up her phone. She sees the little light flashing, indicating a message. She flips open her phone and she opens her inbox and then the message. When she reads it, her hand goes to rest on her abdomen again.

DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME. I LOVE YOU.

Casey flips her phone closed, then she goes downstairs.

She goes into the kitchen to make herself some tea on the go. She grabs her travel mug and then she puts some water in it and pops it into the microwave to warm up the water. She takes out a box containing chamomile tea and as she takes out a bag, the doorbell rings.

She goes over to the front door and looks out the peephole and sees that it is Olivia. Casey opens up the door.

"Hey," she says. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check up on you," Olivia explains. "Are you still sick?"

"Um, no," Casey says. "Come in, Liv."

Olivia steps into Casey's house and goes to sit on the couch.

"You want something to drink?" Casey asks as she goes into the kitchen.

"No thanks," Olivia says. "Are you sure you're alright? You still look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Casey assures Olivia as she sits down on the couch next to her friend. "I was just uh…nervous. You know…from everything that's gone on."

"Yeah, what a night, huh?" Olivia sighs.

Casey shakes her head, her hands going to her abdomen of their own volition.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Casey says quietly. "If I hadn't let that case go wrong…"

"You didn't know that Lake would go out and kill Crane," Olivia says. "That case was wrong from the start…we should have gotten more against Crane."

Casey bites her lower lip.

"We had him cold," she says. "That bastard deserved to rot in hell for what he did."

Olivia nods her agreement. "It's kind of a sick irony. Chester was found innocent of murder, only to go and commit one."

Casey gets up with a sigh.

"I have to go, Liv," she says.

"Where are you off to?" Olivia asks, looking at her watch. "It's late, honey."

"I have to go get some things that I forgot at my office," Casey lies quickly. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude."

"No, I'll walk out with you," Olivia says.

Casey goes into her kitchen and she retrieves her travel mug from the microwave and then she fixes up her tea. After she is finished with that task, she grabs her keys and her purse and she heads out with Olivia.

"Call me tomorrow," Olivia says.

"Okay," Casey says, then both women go to get in their cars.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chester is just about to doze off when he hears the warden's voice.

"Hey Lake," he says. "Wakey, wakey, you got a visitor."

Chester sits up and he gets up and grabs his jacket before he goes over to the gate. The warden slides it open and then he is escorted into another room. He sits down at the table and a moment later, Casey walks in.

"Casey, what are you doing here?" He asks, getting up.

"I didn't know when they'd give you your phone call," she says. "I wanted to see you."

She goes over to him and wraps her arms around his neck before kissing him soundly. He embraces her tightly and returns her kiss in kind. He slips his hands inside her jacket and pulls her even closer as he kisses her.

"Hey," the uniform says, and they break their kiss and look at him. "No conjugal visits."

"No shit," Chester huffs. "Would you just get the fuck out of here? Give us some privacy?"

The uniform looks between them suspiciously then he goes out of the room and closes the door, standing just outside.

Once they are alone, Casey hugs Chester tightly and burrows her face into his neck.

He kisses her forehead, then they pull away and they sit down.

"Did you get my text message?" He asks.

"Yeah," she sighs. "You know that I'm more than worried."

"I know," he says. "But I do love you. I love you more than I could ever love myself."

Casey grins slightly. "That's sweet."

"I try," he shrugs.

She reaches her hands across the table and laces her fingers with his.

"What happened?" She asks.

He shakes his head. "It all just happened…Crane caught me outside of the courthouse. He told me to meet him at nine this evening to talk. He said that he wanted to tell me the truth about what happened to Alyssa Hernandez."

"And you went?" Casey asks a bit angrily. "That bastard tried to kill you not once, but twice, Chester. What the hell were you thinking to begin with?"

"I don't know," he says. "It was stupid of me."

"Ya think?" Casey huffs. "Hindsight is a bitch, isn't it?"

"Don't get pissed off," he says. "Just listen."

"Okay," she says, calming down. "Tell me the rest."

"He sounded pretty rattled when he caught me, so I met him," Chester explains further. "When I got there, I was the only one there. He came up behind me, tried to brain me with his gun, but I moved. We fought over his gun and I got it in my hand. He turned his back to me, and he had his arms spread out. He confessed to everything…and then he laughed. The idiot laughed."

"Then you shot him?" Casey asks.

He nods.

"You need to get a lawyer," she says, but he shakes his head.

"I don't need a lawyer," he says. "There's not much a lawyer can do at this point, Case."

"You have to do something to help yourself Chester," she insists. "At least if you get a lawyer, you can argue a justifiable, or try and plead out. You know damn well that if your case goes to trial…they're going to hang you out to dry."

"I killed a man, Casey," he says. "I killed Crane because he needed to be put out of his misery, alright? I take full responsibility for my actions. If I hire a lawyer and try to excuse what I've done, then that makes me no better than the people we work to put away."

"The people we put away are bad people, criminals," she says. "You're not a criminal…and God knows that you're not a bad person. Try and help yourself."

"There's nothing I can do now," he says resignedly. "I'm not afraid, Casey."

"Well I am!" she huffs as she gets up, tears running down her face. "This isn't just about you! It's not just going to be you alone, I'm going to be alone too! This isn't about just you anymore!"

In her heart, Casey knows that Chester didn't murder Crane, at least not intentionally. In the time that she's been in a relationship with him, she's found that Chester values life, values people, values justice. But then she thinks about the case they have weathered, and she knows that after ten years of chasing ghosts, only to fail again, that had to break his will to follow the rules and have faith in the law. She thinks that perhaps she just doesn't want to face that he had it in him to kill.

"I never meant for any of this to happen, sweetie," he says. "I never wanted to hurt you, you've got to believe that."

"I do," she says quietly as she sits down again.

Chester looks into her green eyes, and they seem brighter than usual, despite the circumstances.

The door opens and the uniform steps in.

"Time's up," he says with a sigh.

Chester and Casey both get up and he hugs her.

"I love you," he says softly.

"I love you too," she sniffles. "What time is your arraignment tomorrow?"

"I'm on the docket for eight thirty," he says.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?" She says as she kisses his cheek. "I will be there for you, no matter what happens."

They kiss lovingly one last time before Chester gently pulls away. He is taken out of the room and back into the holding cell.

Casey walks out of the room and heads down the hallway to the front of the precinct. The moment she steps outside into the cool night air, she cries. She makes her way onto the street and walks to her car, tears blurring her vision and streaming down her cheeks. She gets into her car and then she rests her head onto the steering wheel, sobbing and her hands on her belly. She is completely devastated and she doesn't know what to do. She hates this feeling; the feeling that she is losing control of her life, the feeling that she is helpless in her attempts to stop the pendulum from swinging.