For all those people who kindly, kindly commented.
This story won't move too fast, but hopefully also not too slowly. I actually hope to build some plot here. One story I wrote had no, er, 'action', until chapter 40, although I highly doubt that will happen here. I hope the lack of 'smut' won't turn anyone away. People seem to expect it these days!
Usual disclaimers apply.
Beta'd by the amazing Dev.
Olivia had seemed ill-at-ease. She was trying to hide it well but I've spent enough of my time at the One-Six covertly watching her that I could see it. I read people. I'm a prosecutor: it's what I do.
Well, normally, what I do is read people, spot their weaknesses and exploit them. I'll be damned if I ever do that to Detective Benson, though.
I'm not surprised that she's a little put out. Effectively, Donald Cragen just made me her partner without asking. Not only is she suddenly not working with Elliot - and I know what those two mean to each other - but now she's stuck with me.
If I were Olivia, I probably wouldn't want an ADA trailing after me, either.
On the other hand, I know Councilman Jackson fairly well and if anyone's going to get the family to open up, it's going to be me. I suppose that's why Donald put me on the case with her.
I spend a moment trying to deny that this gives me a secret thrill. I think everyone who's not already in law enforcement, deep down inside, has moments where they imagine that they're detectives, be it solo or working for the police. I suspect most people have a hidden longing to save the world from secret plots and unknown evils.
My father would have had me committed to a lunatic asylum before he would have let me join the police force. I think he still feels that working for the public prosecutor's office may be just a little too grubby for the Cabot name. His only positive feelings about my career revolve around the people I will meet and the name I can make for myself.
I know he doesn't - and never will - understand why I do the job I do. We've had words concerning my reticence at going for promotions and my insistence on working for the Sex Crimes unit.
He doesn't understand what it means to take these people off the street.
He doesn't understand how it makes me feel.
My father is a man who doesn't feel. He brought me up to be a lady who doesn't feel. He'd be unamused if he knew, occasionally, just how much I felt.
Olivia unnerves me. Where I am poised, she's fiery and passionate. Despite this, she keeps herself in good check and she's an excellent detective. Nevertheless, she unnerves me.
In a half-hour, I have to meet her back at the precinct and spend the afternoon interviewing witnesses with her: not any witnesses, either, but the Jacksons. This is going to take some special manoeuvring on my part. I'm uncertain if Donald wants me to rein Olivia in or give her full movement.
You can't go around accusing someone like Councilman Jackson of getting his own disabled daughter pregnant. While it's true that not many people know about Kasey, those of us who know the family well, do. They just keep her fairly quiet because they don't want a media circus around her. That's why I was so surprised when Donald mentioned her.
The Jacksons are good people and Councilman Jackson is a good man. I imagine this must be tearing him apart. I make a mental note not to let Olivia rile him up too much. He must be going through hell.
Perhaps that's why Cragen asked me to go with her.
On the other hand, I've rarely seen Olivia get inappropriate with suspects. On occasion, Elliot steps out of line but Olivia is usually the level-headed one.
It takes me a minute to realise that my brain is rambling. My normally very ordered and very tidy thoughts are scattering to the extent that my coffee is half-lifted to my lips and it's entirely possible that it's been there for several minutes.
I take a sip and check my watch.
Ten minutes.
I stand up from the coffee shop table and pick up my latte. It occurs to me that it would have been polite to buy one for Olivia, but I don't actually know what she drinks. I make a mental note to ask, considering we're going to be working together.
My heels click on the way through to the relevant squad room. I enjoy their rhythm; I always do. There's something soothing about the way I can control them, the way that they make the same noise and the same rhythm depending on how I move my feet.
When I get to the squad room, Olivia is shouldering into her wool coat. I'm secretly glad, as I don't feel like arguing with her today. And, since she's driving, I guess I'm in her hands for the moment.
"Ready?" I ask.
"I'm good," she replies, biting her lip.
Her sedan is clean, as promised. It's a standard issue, nothing like what I drive. Sometimes, I think if I slipped into someone who wasn't really me I might do something crazy like buy a convertible, but what I own is a very well made BMW.
This Ford is good enough, though. I slide into the front seat and watch Olivia take the driver's seat. She pulls out of the parking slot neatly and heads out into the wild streets of Manhattan.
If at all possible, I try not to drive in the city. I don't like the complete lack of control that's evident in the traffic, so I take the subway or mostly taxis. Watching Olivia negotiate the traffic works for me, though. She does it well.
"I think we should match strategy before we get there," I say smoothly. "I'm not sure getting off on the wrong foot with Councilman Jackson is our best way of approaching this."
I see her knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, and the edge of her mouth follows. For a fleeting second, I wonder why I'm so acutely tuned to Detective Benson and then her mouth opens.
"Why are you all so damn sure I'm going to run in there guns blazing? This is a victim's family. I've got fairly decent experience at this."
It's true. She does. I don't know why I suddenly feel like she's likely to fly off the handle. Perhaps its because I saw the look in her eyes when Don told her about Kasey. I understand where her compassion lies and it's with the victim. Perhaps all I have to do is wait until she sees Mrs Jackson with her daughter.
I lied when I said I didn't know them personally. I know them better than as mere social passing acquaintances but, at the same time, I wouldn't call myself a close family friend. I just don't want Olivia seeing it that way. I don't want Don Cragen to see it that way either. This is my job and, while I have been known to call in favours before, I like to stand on my own feet.
"I'm sorry," I reply genuinely, hoping she can hear it. "I just know how sensitive they're going to be. I have a feeling we have to be united or we're going to end up tripping over ourselves."
"Well, I'll tell you what, I'll do my job, and you do yours. Since we don't do the same job, we shouldn't end up tripping over each other." Her knuckles tighten again.
I have just been put in my place. Bizarrely, all it does is put a very slight wry smile on my face.
"As you say, Detective Benson, as you say."
We pull up to the Upper East Side brownstone and miraculously find a parking spot in front. I note that it's a No Parking zone, but I suspect that she won't get a ticket.
The door is opened by a gentleman I recognise as Councilman Jackson's assistant.
"You must be Detective Benson and Miss Cabot." He's been briefed. "Do come in. We're expecting you." Of course they are.
We're led through what can only be labelled as a very tasteful and impressive hallway leading down to what must be the Councilman's office. He stands up from his desk.
"Alex." He moves around his desk until he's by us, giving me a friendly kiss on the cheek.
"Councilman."
"Tom, please. Surely we're past Mr Jackson by now?" He turns to Olivia.
"Detective Benson," she introduces herself, putting out one of those perfect hands of hers. "I'm from SVU."
"Yes, Donald said you'd be coming. Please, sit down, sit down." Ushering us to the chairs in front of his desk, he takes his own chair. "Can I get you anything, coffee, tea?"
I follow Olivia's cue and shake my head.
"If you wouldn't mind, Councilman, we'll need to know what happened." Olivia pulls out her notebook. I settle back into my chair and listen, ready for anything that may become relevant to my part of the investigation.
"Of course. Well, Kasey is here about sixty percent of the time, with a full-time carer we employ for her, Anna."
"We'll need to talk to her," Olivia interrupts.
"Naturally, anyone you need to talk to will be available as you need." He takes a sip of water and continues, "Kasey spends the rest of her time at St. Bart's, which is a respite home a few hours north of here. She's been staying there since she was a teenager. Up until now, they've been excellent."
Olivia nods and I shift slightly.
Tom continues, "Kasey came home to us about six weeks ago. She was due to return next week, which has naturally been put off. It was only after a few weeks that my wife noticed that she hadn't… menstruated." He seems sad rather than uncomfortable. "There have been doctors that have advised us to have Kasey's uterus removed, but we've never felt comfortable with that. We'd like Kasey to have the most normal life possible, whatever that means for her. At any rate, it took a simple visit to Kasey's doctor to confirm that she is, in fact, pregnant."
I can hear the strain in his voice, and I hope Olivia can too. I know that she needs to keep an open mind, as do I, but I can fairly well assure myself that Tom Jackson is not guilty of this particular crime.
I see him bite his lip and look at Olivia.
"When did Kasey go to the respite service?" the detective next to me asks. I appreciate her gentle tone at least.
"Six weeks before she came home."
"And how pregnant do the doctors say she is?"
"Twelve weeks."
It takes less than a second of mental arithmetic to put the conception right on the cusp of when Kasey left for the respite service. Olivia can't rule out anyone at home or in the family. Clearly, Tom Jackson knows what we're thinking.
"Our whole family visits Kasey at St. Barts, even without the timing. I understand you'll have to cast a wide net."
So much for Olivia being so suspicious. I feel a little bit vindicated and a little bit smug.
"What's going to happen to Kasey?"
I see Tom take a deep breath in. "We're seeing our OB-GYN on Tuesday. The pregnancy will not continue." His hands are shaking.
"Thank you for your time, Councilman Jackson. I can see how hard this is for you." Olivia closes her notebook and gives him the warm, press-lipped smile that she offers to anyone with whom she's sympathising.
"We'll co-operate in anyway you need, Detective. Just… just find who did this to my little girl."
"We'll do everything we can, I promise."
We're all standing now.
"Councilman?"
"Yes, Detective?"
"Would it be possible to meet Kasey?"
He smiles. "Of course. Please, follow me."
