A/N Due to scenes of a sexual nature, I've upped the rating to an M. It's not exactly explicit, but if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, you may wish to skip this chapter.

Also, just to address some of the reviews regarding Alex/Casey situation...I'm thinking it was possibly not totally clear that they had not broken up last chapter. They are still together, however, there is very little Alex/Casey in this chapter (got to push the plot along a little!) don't worry though, I shall explore their relationship further in upcoming chapters. Alex has a big part to play later on in this fic, so bear with me!

Chapter 9: The other woman

Months earlier

This was a bad idea.

Casey paced up and down outside Olivia's apartment, wringing her hands, muttering to herself. Any onlooker would probably figure she was insane.

She didn't give a fuck.

She was pissed off.

She hadn't wanted to move to sex crimes. Not a jot. She was quite satisfied with white collar. She didn't need to make a name for herself. She didn't have any political aspirations (and even if she did, the plentiful skeletons inhabiting her closet would end them sharply), but Branch had plucked her from her safe, almost 9-5 and thrown her into the thick of Special Victims.

It had been a baptism of fire.

White collar and sex crimes might have only been separated by a floor in her offices, but it was a whole world away.

High emotions, late nights and all day dealing with the very worst kind of people had knocked Casey off kilter.

Benson was a classic bleeding heart cop, she lived for the job, and more importantly, she chose it. Casey hadn't.

Olivia appeared hellbent on riding Casey every chance she got, every mistake. God knows Casey was trying. She cared, she really did.

But she wasn't perfect, and it seemed that wasn't good enough for Benson.

For the first few months Casey had taken it with good grace, issuing only a few snappy sarcastic retorts in retaliation, but the constant barbs and pressure had built up, and now here she was mad as hell and outside Olivia's apartment.

This wasn't just a bad idea, it was stupid. It was barely even an idea at all, it was a whim. After work she'd stewed at the bar for a few hours, chewing over the days events. Olivia had read her the riot act again, and Casey had just sat there, waiting for her to run out of steam. There were a million things that she should have said, and those lines had cycled through her mind as she sat in the bar, sinking a few too many whiskies and brooding.

By number six or seven she'd decided this internal monologue was wasted buzzing about in her head, and she had jumped in a cab and headed for the detectives apartment. By the time she had reached the door, her snappy arguments had abandoned her, replaced by a rising dull headache.

She should really go home.

Of course the moment she came to that realisation coincided with the exact moment Olivia noticed her uninvited guest and swung the door open.

Benson's expression was not one of delight as she regarded the partially stunned lawyer, "Can I help you Counsellor?"

This would have been a really good time to walk away.

Instead Casey blurted out, "I've got a question for you detective, are you always such an asshole to your incumbent prosecutor, or do you just have a problem with me in particular."

Olivia rolled her eyes, "you know, I was just thinking, 'you know what would really put the cherry on top of this week? A drunk lawyer yelling at me right on my doorstep'. Actually on second thoughts I'd probably have prefered a late night call from the Jehovahs Witnesses…"

"I'm not drunk, and I'm not yelling!" Casey snapped back, raising her voice despite herself.

Olivia stepped back from the door, tiredly motioning Casey in.

She really should have gone home. Turning on her heel and storming off at this stage however, would be too much like backing down. Casey reluctantly walked in, and Olivia led her to the living room.

"So," Olivia said, somewhat bemused, "do you have something you want to say, or did you just come over to scream rhetorical questions at me like a 10 year old?"

Casey scrunched her eyes shut, willing herself to develop the a fleeting ability to time travel. It did not work.

She remained in Olivia's living room, glared at by a pyjamed police detective.

"I do actually," Casey said, making an effort to steady her volume, "why have you got such a problem with me? I do my job."

Olivia sighed, glancing away thoughtfully, "that's the problem Novak, you just do your job. That's all it is to you."

"I put criminals away, what more do you want from me? My conviction rate is over seventy percent, that's unheard of in sex crimes…"

Olivia chuckled a little, "maybe that's because you're so selective about what you actually chose to prosecute."

Casey crossed her arms tight across her chest, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you only take on cases you know you'll win, because you're more concerned with waving your conviction rate dick around than getting justice for the vics. I've seen prosecutors like you before, all you're interested in is moving up the ladder..."

Now Casey was mad. She had been busting her ass, and Benson still saw her as nothing more than a slimy lawyer looking for an ego trip. She didn't need to hear anymore. She cut Benson off abruptly, stepping into her space,

"If that's what you think, then fuck you Benson, seriously, fuck you."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, but she did not give ground, "back up Novak."

Casey didn't, "what? You're okay with pushing me around in the office, but not here?"

Olivia cocked an eyebrow, "are you angling for a fight counsellor?"

She wasn't, still, she said, "and what if I am Detective?"

"Get out," Olivia said. her voice was flat, inflectionless, but a rising anger was beginning to show on her face. A voice in the back of her mind told her to walk away. Stop pushing. This would not end well. Over the years though, Casey had become quite adept at silencing that little voice - often with less than pleasant consequences.

"No," Casey said, continuing to stand toe-to-toe with the other woman.

Olivia had clearly had enough, and gave Casey a hearty shove on the shoulders. Casey responded in kind. Olivia, who clearly hadn't expected Casey's push and so had not braced herself accordingly tumbled back onto the sofa, but managed to somehow grab Casey on the way, taking her down too.

The pair scuffled clumsily tumbling onto the floor for a few frantic seconds before Casey got the upper hand, pinning Olivia on her back with her wrists gripped tight above her head.

Olivia looked shell shocked, surprised to be overpowered by a relatively scrawny attorney, and for a moment that seemed like minutes, they paused, faces inches apart. They had been screaming at each other a heartbeat ago, but the mood had suddenly changed.

This wasn't an unusual situation for Casey, but clearly it was for Olivia. The correct thing to do at this stage would be to get up, go home, and try to forget that they had both engaged in such an undignified manner.

Casey liked to think herself pragmatic, sensible even, but in truth, her actions often preceded her thoughts. Significant alcohol intake with its restraint inhibiting properties did not assist with her decision making process.

It may have been the moment, or plain old bad judgement, but for whatever reason, Casey kissed Olivia.

To her surprise, Olivia did not fight. She kissed her back, urgently. Unhesitant.

Casey released her grip on Olivia's wrists, there were more interesting options for her hands right now, and she quickly availed herself of them.

She moved her hand onto Olivia's breast, pinching a hardened nipple which was straining against the fabric of her vest. Olivia groaned and repaid her by biting down hard on Casey's lower lip. The sensation was an intense combination of pain and pleasure, but the sudden rush made Casey pause for a second, she briefly pulled away,

"Wait, are you sure you want to…"

Olivia didn't give her a chance to finish, "just shut up and fuck me," she breathed, grabbing Casey by her shirt and unbuttoning it with surprising speed. Last reservations pushed aside, Casey helped Olivia out of her pyjama bottoms and panties. She slid her hands between Olivia's legs, she was wet. Casey slid her fingers easily inside.

The moments that followed saw their bodies in a tangle, frantic movements somehow remained in unison. Soundless apart from breaths ragged and quick. There were no loving words exchanged, no sweet nothings. It was self-indulgent. Primal.

It was fucking, plain and simple. Casey let her thoughts drown out. There was nothing but the physicality of the act. Olivia's hips grinding against her, nails digging into her back, the sheen of sweat appearing on the other womans body as she came closer, closer. Her moans getting louder, more urgent.

It didn't take long to reach the crescendo, and time seemed to slow as the motions, sounds, sensations reached their apex. Olivia's back arched sharply, her body tensing, as though paused for a moment, before falling back to the floor, still. Motionless.

It took a moment for the fog to clear, and suddenly the light flooded in, illuminating the two women, on the floor, half dressed.

And suddenly it all seemed so stark. And wrong.

The women quickly broke apart. Each dressing without a word.

"Fuck," Casey muttered, flopping down onto the sofa.

"Fuck indeed," Olivia chuckled nervously. Casey kept her eyes to the floor. Eye contact wasn't an option at this point. Her common sense nerve was quickly reawakening and confirming that engaging what can only be described as an impromptu hate-fuck with a coworker was not exactly a stellar plan.

"I don't think we should have…" Casey's words trailed off.

"I'm not even...I mean, I've never..." This time it was Olivia's turn to get stuck for words.

Casey mumbled, "I figured, I guess we both got a little carried away,"

An awkward silence descended, Olivia cleared her throat and paced toward the kitchen, "do you want a coffee or something?"

"I should probably go," Casey said, getting to her feet. The world lurched a little around her. She was definitely on an alcohol embargo for the foreseeable.

"Alright," Olivia said.

Casey couldn't get out of the apartment fast enough.

Monday morning would be awkward in the extreme.


It had been a few weeks before they got together again. Olivia had called. Asked Casey if she wanted to come round. Her words had faltered and trailed off when Casey had asked why.

The unspoken undertone of the invitation had not gone unnoticed. Casey was unattached, and they were both adults. She'd accepted, and from then on it became an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached. It suited the both of them until Alex had reemerged, Casey hadn't been to Olivia's apartment since.

As such it seemed strange to be sat there now. They weren't friends, and there was little Casey could talk about.

"So are you gonna tell me what happened?" Olivia said after the mutual silence began to ring.

"Nope," Casey said.

"Was it someone involved with a case we're working on?"

"No, I just had a little accident," Casey responded flatly. Perhaps seeking company hadn't been such a good idea after all. Especially not company in the form of Detective Benson. She wasn't about to drop it.

"Right, so you fell down the stairs and landed on a fist a few dozen times?"

"Can we talk about something else please?" Casey barked, before deliberately softening her tone. She had turned up to Olivia's house past midnight, bruised up and cagey. The other woman had every right to be curious and concerned, "look, it's hard to explain, but I promise, as soon as I can, I will. Can I crash on your couch tonight?"

"Are you in some kind of trouble Casey?" She felt Olivia's hand on her shoulder.

Casey couldn't suppress a wry laugh, "In trouble? I don't think I've ever been out of it."


Three weeks. That was the time it took for her fathers call to come in. He had a job for her. Small scale. This was a trial run. A test.

One of her fathers underlings had called her of course, her father was smart. He wasn't going to risk incriminating himself.

The job was a drugs deal, the complication was the deal had to be brokered with a rival gang. They were old school mobsters of Italian stock, and they deeply resented the new blood from eastern europe taking over their turf. Either way though, after a few years of fighting they'd realised they could either keep scrapping for turf with her father, who had become more and more powerful as time had ticked on, or form a mutually beneficial alliance. They'd chosen the latter, though it was certainly an uneasy pairing.

Her fathers contact had warned that tempers ran high at these meetings. Both sides had agreed to meet unarmed at a neutral location, two bodies from either side maximum. Neither side adhered to these rules absolutely, but thus far, there hadn't been any major incidents.

As instructed, Casey had contacted Arnott. After ensuring she hadn't been followed, she'd met with the agent at a funfair. Noisy, crowded. It would be tricky for anyone to snoop on their conversation.

"So, the plan is, you go along with it. Broker the deal. We can't risk putting a wire on you, but we'll have agents standing by just in case it goes down the shitter," Arnott said, "oh look, candy floss! I haven't had that in…"

Casey sighed, he was awfully distractible for an FBI agent, "how exactly are they gonna know that it hasn't gone to plan? What do you want me to do, send up smoke signals?"

Arnott shrugged, "I'm not gonna lie to you Novak, this is gonna be a risky one. If you blow it, it's likely we won't be able to get to you until it's too late, so play it cool."

"Good to know you'll be on standby to fish my corpse out of the river if it goes sideways," Casey muttered.

"Look, we've reviewed the whole thing, so long as you don't give anyone any reason to doubt you, this is in the bag. Your old man is testing you. You pass this test, and you're in. Then we can start building a case. Lets get on the Ferris wheel, no one will be able to see us up there,"

The pair got on the Ferris wheel. Arnott looked giddy as they ascended, gazing all around with muted wonder.

"Okay, so what am I meant to do? Any advice?" Casey said, pulling him back to reality.

"It'll be you and one of Novak's guys, normally for a small deal like this he'd send a low ranking goon, but with your involvement, he's gonna want someone he can trust. Someone who can suss you out. He'll be watching you like a hawk, your every move, every word, you need to be sharp."

Arnott reached into his pocket, pulling out a few folded sheets of paper, shuffling through them clumsily, "so, Huang says to make this work you need to act like your father. He has to see himself in you, that's the key. That's what will make him take the leap of faith. He has an erratic temper, he can flip in a second, and he reacts violently when challenged in any way, he's proud and…"

Casey cut him off, "you don't need to tell me how my father is alright? Maybe you've been following him a few years, read a few profiles, I've lived with him. I know him."

Arnott grinned, "and that's exactly why we've got this in the bag. You'll nail it."

"Sure, lets hope so…" Casey's voice trailed off as she spotted something on the paper in Arnotts hand, "hey, what's that?"

"Oh that?" Arnott said, "we use code names to refer to double agents, it's a safety thing, calls can be intercepted and…"

"Red Sox?" Casey snapped, crossing her arms, "my code name is Red Sox?"

Arnott nodded, "well, you've got red hair, and they're my team so…"

"Change it." Casey snapped.

"Novak you don't actually get to pick your code name…"

"Arnott, I've had to deal with a lot of crap over the last few weeks, you can at least spare me this indignity."

"Oh," Arnott seemed to catch on, "Yankee's fan?"

"Got it in one."

Arnott smiled, "alright Novak, but only because I like you."


The deal was scheduled to go ahead only a few days after Casey received the initial call.

That had been a blessing in certain respects. Less time to stew over it. Less time to get cold feet. She'd called Alex inbetween. The call had been stilted. Alex had been cold.

It was unsurprising, Casey had been avoiding her. Even so Casey could feel her pain through the phone line even Alex tried her best to be unfeeling. Unfazed.

God forbid Alex should actually express need. Wanting.

Casey couldn't blame her, she'd kept the other woman at arms length and she'd responded in kind. It was better this way. She just hoped that after this was all done, Alex would still be waiting for her. God knows she didn't deserve it, but it didn't hurt to hope.

The deal was scheduled to take place in the basement of a Pizza place, on the side of town loosely marked as opposition territory. Despite the terms of the agreement between the two gangs, Arnott had instructed Casey to pack heat. The other side would, and neither trusted the other enough to allow searches.

Casey had spent a long time getting ready, not standard practice for her. Generally the criteria for her outfit selection was clean and comfortable, although since she'd gotten with Alex she'd been learning about the delights of coordination. Apparently there were few colours which went well with Lime green. Alex had delighted in stuffing several of her brighter articles into the dark recesses of the wardrobe. But today wasn't about fashion. She needed to look the part.

And ensure she was comfortable enough to run the fuck away unobstructed in the event that all hell broke loose.

In the end she opted for blue jeans, a white vest and a black leather jacket. Smart, yet casual, without overdoing the gangster shtick. Hair in a neat updo, making it harder to grab if a fight broke out. She completed her outfit with a pistol tucked into the waistband of her jeans, right over the small of her back. Not obvious, but easy to grab quickly.

She glanced in the mirror before heading out. The injuries from her fathers beating had faded enough that makeup easily covered the remaining bruises. It felt strange. She barely recognised herself.

Perhaps this was how it had to be.

Perhaps it was better this way.

She had to be someone else. And that someone else had a job to do. She wouldn't mess up.

With a sense of resolve settling over her, she stole out into the night.


Casey glanced at her watch again. Her contact was late.

She had been instructed to pick up her partner for this deal a few blocks away from the pizza place, and she'd been waiting for nearly half an hour.

Perhaps this was a setup.

Perhaps her father just wanted to lure her out to an unfamiliar part of town and have one of his men take her out.

Just as she was about to haul ass and give it up for a bad plan, a familiar figure stalked up to the car, did a double take, and then tapped on the passenger side window. Casey popped the lock and he jumped in.

"Callum," Casey said.

"You know when your Dad called telling me I was working this deal with you, I thought he was bullshitting. But here you are."

"Here I am," Casey shrugged, "and you're late. We better get going."

"I don't buy it you know," Callum said, "this turn around. You're as straight as they come...figuratively speaking of course."

"And I don't really care what you think," Casey said nonchalantly, "I've got nothing to prove to you."

She caught Callums frown in the rearview, "your Dad said to watch you and report back. And believe me, I will. If I think you're playing us, you're done."

"Because taking me out worked so well last time," Casey said, "why don't you figure this one out for me, if I'm playing you, why would I take out Rufus? You think the government sanctions murder?"

"Maybe," Callum said.

"Lets say they do, why bother with this whole charade? If murder without a trial was their MO why wouldn't they just pop my Dad and put an end to it. He doesn't exactly keep his location a secret, I tracked him down easy enough."

Callum considered this for a moment, a genuine pause. She was getting to him, "well, we'll see. Lets just get to this meeting."


Under Callums instruction, Casey parked in the alley behind the building. As they alit from the car, a strong smell of putrefying food filled the air. Overflowing garbage cans provided halfway decent cover. Callum rapped on the back door, and after a beat, the door opened.

Casey followed Callum down narrow concrete stairs into a dimly lit basement. Inside, two men stood behind a foldaway table occupied by a blue carryall. They nodded in greeting. Callum glanced at Casey. This was her play. She'd been instructed to carry out the deal. Callum was just there to keep an eye on proceedings.

Steeling herself, Casey stepped forward, "alright, lets make this quick, you show me the…"

One of the men cut her off, "what the hell is this? Novak's sending broads out to do his business now? What's the matter, is he running out of good men?"

"Lets just get on with..."

The man interjected again, "hey, did I tell you you could talk bitch?" he growled.

Casey felt her blood temperature shoot up. Normally, she'd swallow her pride. Stay calm. Ignore the insult. She was used to it, working as an ADA she'd been cussed out by innumerable pissed off perps.

But Jakob Novak didn't swallow his pride. Not ever.

And she was his daughter.

Casey gave a wry smile, and swiped her stashed pistol out, simultaneously thumbing the hammer as she stepped forward, pressing the gun to the forehead of the mouthy prick.

"What the hell did you just call me? Because I may be a 'broad' but I think you'll find that a bullet from my gun will kill you just as dead as one fired by a man."

"Hey Cal, does this bitch know who I am," the man barked out, a sheen of sweat bubbling on his brow.

"No Mikey, she doesn't, so I suggest you stop mouthing off at her before she puts a bullet in your head and gives me a hell of a lot to explain to both of our bosses," Callum said, his voice shaking slightly.

"All right all right," The man said, gently gesturing for her to lower the gun. Reluctantly, Casey did. He seemed suitably scared already.

"I'm Michael Conti, Big Mikey for short," he said, extending a hand. Casey passed the gun to her left, keeping it in his eyeline, and gave a firm handshake.

"I'm Casey Novak, and no, the surname is not a coincidence,"


With hostilities resolved, the deal went ahead awkwardly, but without further incident.

Callum let out a deep breath once they were back in the car, "jesus Case, you could have got us both killed in there. The last thing we want is a war with Giordano's guys. They may not be big players but they have a tight supply line. We do good business."

"He was disrespecting me," Casey said coolly, starting the car up and pulling away with a roar. The sudden inertia threw Callum back against the carseat.

"You shouldn't have drawn on him," Callum said, quickly scrambling to fasten his seatbelt.

"Alright, I lost my temper, but we did the deal. He won't talk to his boss about it. He won't want anyone to know a woman made him nearly piss his pants."

Callum drummed his fingers on the dashboard thoughtfully, "you know what, you're probably right."

"I know I'm right," Casey replied tersely. She eased up on the accelerator a little. Last thing she needed was to get pulled for speeding with a trunk full of narcotics.

"I guess I might have been wrong about you," Callum said thoughtfully.

"A lot of people are," Casey said.