A/N: It's five in the morning so...all mistakes are mine. I'll check it later.
Chapter ten: Week two
It's midnight, yet it seems much later to Casey. Maybe it's the cold winter rain that envelops a cold aura for the city. Maybe it's the fact that her daughter isn't home, safe in her bed. She can't cry anymore; there isn't enough liquid in her body to do the function. But the despair and separation anxiety still impales her heart with the same potency, if not more because it's eight hours. Eight long, worrisome, hours with the only proof of her child's existence is her picture plastered all over the news, and the pale blue shirt she wore when she was dancing to her game. It's still sweaty, she didn't get a chance to wash due to the calamity of the day's events, but she continues to stroke the moisture with the pad of her thumb because this is how she likes to think of her; all happy and smiling and not dead, or in a ditch somewhere.
She feels Olivia watching her on the couch; the detective hasn't taken her brown eyes off of her since the precinct. She wants to weep to her, beg and plead, even yell at the detective because she hasn't forgotten yesterday's events– despite the newer ones clouding her mind. Olivia hates her and thinks little of her, so why is she here sitting on the detective's small couch.
"You…you want some more hot cocoa?" she asks, voice just as warm and welcoming as her brown eyes.
Casey doesn't answer; she wouldn't be sure if she could even recognize her own voice after what her sobs did to it. She just shakes her head and settles her eyes to the nothingness of the atmosphere. She wanted to be left alone, well, left with her daughter in her arms, but she knew Olivia. The detective was relentless.
"Do you need anything, Case?" she eases closer beside the ginger, coiled on the couch with the blue fabric clutched to her chest. "Coffee? A movie? Maybe another blank–"
Casey somehow wedges a growl through the tightness in her throat as she glares at the brunette through bleary vision. She knows the detective is doing this out of guilt, and not necessarily for Casey. Of course Olivia has a soul, on most occasions, and she did feel empathy for her loss, but Casey knows she's going out of her way because of the bitter words she said to her at the playground. She should be flattered and a little relieved that the detective felt her own words boomerang to her chest, but the thought simply enrages her into saying "What do you want?" in a dark, hoarse whisper. The simple nature almost makes Casey feel bad when she notices a flash of pain grace the brunette's furrowed brow, but she remembers, in precise tone and pitch, of what the detective said to her, and her defiance and anger and despair remains in her own furrowed brow.
"In fact, why are we here?" she sharply stands from the couch, the white blanket given to her hanging loosely off her shoulders to drag on the ground. "We should be out looking for her." The delayed thought has her moving to the door, almost no reasoning and consciousness in her stride, but she hears a few heavy steps and then sees the detective hovering the door.
"Casey." She has the same look of defiance laced with sympathy she has when she was in her own lobby earlier that afternoon. But this time was different; Casey could leave. She didn't ask to stay here.
"Excuse me," she mumbles curtly, trying to push away the sturdy hip veiling the doorknob, but the detective wouldn't budge.
"I told you, we will be checking first thing in the morning–"
"It is morning." On any other occasion and subject matter, the banter and the loophole within her words would've been funny. But considering that it involves the location of her daughter, a seemingly witty remark comes off filled with desperation and aggravation.
She sees the frustration in the detective's hardened jaw, but it smoothes back into its sympathetic pity as she softly replies "You know what I mean."
"Actually I don't." Those words are ambiguous, meaning that could apply to anything involving the detective, because in honesty she didn't truly know her.
"Case–"
"Why are we here?" she barks, absentmindedly caressing Emily's shirt. "Why aren't we out there, looking for my daughter?"
"Case, it's midnight and Emily… she's better off…" The thought fades from the detective's lips and Casey feels her own brow furrowing, for the sake of her own sanity she curbs her anger.
"Are you…" Again she sounds infuriated and in pain, but she tightens it as she lets out an even deep breath. "Are you…telling me, that my daughter…is better off, out there!" She could no longer hold back the venom in her voice when her own words recant in her head and the evilness behind it.
"Casey I didn't say–"
"You might as well!" she yells as loud as her hoarse voice could go. "What I don't deserve my daughter? Am I that much of a horrible mother that you rather see her dead–"
"Casey!" Olivia's natural resonant tone is louder and harsher than she's ever heard it, and it somehow registers through her wrath. It eventually fades; her hardened jaw and knitted brow trailing into a quivering pout and desperate eyes.
When Olivia is convinced Casey's has calmed down, she lets out a sigh and releases the anger in her face. "In order for you and I to search for Emily, I need to make sure you are safe. Like the Captain said, we don't know if she wandered, or if this is payback against you or Trevor. Now we can't save Emily's life if yours is in danger."
The words slowly register into the ginger's brain as the enraged haze slowly dissipates. Olivia's right, but at the moment it seemed like maternal instinct and common sense to search for what's hers.
"As hard as it is to sit here and do nothing, I need you safe Case. Munch and Fin are on it still, off the books." It brought a small, slight, barely there grin to know that she had people that cared about and even brushes pass the law to show so. But she couldn't help but notice the omission of a senior detective.
"And Elliot?"
Olivia's expression falters as her brows knit together. Through her pool of despair and depression she caught the fiery gaze Elliot gave Olivia back in the precinct. The glimpse she caught from him, she now saw what was swimming in her own eyes when she was forced to watch the two of them: jealousy. She saw in that given moment the scorn in his blue eyes; the mirror of what she will see when she and Trevor interact. He's jealous, and if he's jealous, that means one thing.
He was beginning to catch on…
"He's…I don't know…probably with his kids, or something," she says dismissively with a lazy flip of the hand. "Elliot always said they brighten his day."
Casey notices the sharpness in the detective's tone when she said his kids and the slight frown forming around her face. She doesn't think of Olivia as the possessive type, but with the tight relationship she and Stabler seem to have, she would think that she had some sort of relationship with his children. Because according to Olivia, they were getting 'married'.
"Children could do that for you…" Her voice is barely a whisper, her eyes now bleary. For once the thought of children didn't brighten her mood because hers weren't with her, and she doesn't where she is. Just the thought of it, of her, all alone, has hot tears of fear trailing down her cheek.
Olivia has her mouth covered with one hand while she wipes Casey's face with the other as she whispers "I'm sorry…" as if it was her fault. As if she was the bad mother…
"Me too..." And when she thought she had no moisture left in her numb body, she breaks down and bursts into tears. "Me too...
The past eight days there's been a daily regime, Olivia muses. She and Casey leave for work, Casey refusing to take the time off, and they discuss the motion over the whereabouts of Emily– and they always come off with nothing, and when a possible lead flares it gets shunned with an alibi.
Casey hasn't spoken of that day in the park; the wonderful time they were having with Emily; the horrible, treacherous insults Olivia blurted to her. She remains silent unless she's spoken to. Her body lies stiff on her couch as she pretends to watch t.v; though Olivia notices the fib, she doesn't say anything because Casey's been too quiet, and Olivia fears anything faint could cause the woman to snap, which is teetering into a reality. Every night for the eight days the ginger has stayed in her apartment, Olivia busts through her bedroom to wake the A.D.A from the horrible, bloodcurdling nightmare she's apparently having. And as much and as shocking that Olivia wanted to crawl into the bed and hold the ginger, she knows that's the wrong thing to do for the both of them. She remembers the dark glare Elliot gave her back in the precinct when she took the A.D.A's side; she could imagine if he found out the inappropriate intimacy behind those closed doors.
The ringing of the precinct phone draws her out of her mental ramble when she furrows her brow at what reads on the caller id. 911? Why would 911 call us? "Special Victims Unit," she answers professionally. Her breath hitches when she hears harsh breathing and frantic cries over the phone.
"M-Mommy…Ima Ima s-scared…"
"Emily?" She gasps and the whole unit's eyes are on her and Casey's already up, bolted by her side. Olivia quickly puts the phone on speaker.
"Emily?" Casey sobs out and there's a hushed murmur in the intercom. It's obvious Emily can't be heard. "Honey?"
Olivia makes a hushed motion with her lips and then points to Fin, who already gets her signal to trace the phone call.
"Emily it's me, Olivia," she replies gently, but quietly. "Can you tell me where you are?" Her brown eyes remain align with the wide ginger's in a determined manner. I told you I'll find her…
"N-No," goes the stuffy reply. "Mommy…"
"It's okay honey," Casey could barely keep it together but over her glazed green is a glint of determination to get her daughter back. She's beautiful, Olivia quickly muses. "We're going to find you and you're going to be home in my arms, honey, okay?" She's crying and Munch is beside her, rubbing her back, but she stiffens, most likely unintentional. She's just use to a woman's touch.
"Can you describe who's taken you?" Olivia asks, eyeing Fin who silently gestures 'give me a minute.'
"They…they h-had masks on and, oh Olibia" Even the brunette finds a sob at her throat from the innocence and fear in the mini ginger's voice, but she needs to remain strong for Emily and her mother.
"Y-You told me…that only a couple people have badges right?"
Olivia makes a wobbly smile as she nods but then whispers "yes" when she realizes the little girl can't see her.
"They h-have guns," she hears the A.D.A gasp at that, "but I'm no-t scared. T-They're not really s-strong like you…"
A tear sneaks from Olivia's eye but she all but slaps it out of her face as she whispers hoarsely, "I'm going to find you honey. And thank you so much for being–" She freezes when she hears ruffling over the phone and dark resonant tone bark "Who's this?"
Olivia sees the anger spark in Casey's face and she's already behind her with a hand cupped over her mouth as she coolly replies "This is Detective Benson. What do you want?" She feels Casey writhing in her touch but she needs to keep her quiet if she wants this to go smoothly. Last thing they need is a child death on their hands.
"I just do what I'm told," he replies impassively.
Fin makes a light snap that catches Olivia's attention and then makes a thumbs-ups signal to show he got the information he needed. She makes a curt nod until her dark eyes aligns with the intercom and replies, "Her father's loaded; you could get all the loot you want." She hates begging more than anything, but she'd eat dirt if it means having Emily safe in her arms.
The mysterious man makes a chuckle so dark, so sinister, down right evil to the point that it slithers down her spine like cold medicine. She almost gasps from the inadvertent fear and uncertainty this man makes her feel, but for her pride's sake and Casey's, she keeps it locked in her throat.
"If you only knew, detective…" They hear a dial tone.
Olivia then relinquishes her hold on the ginger who roughly shrugged from it to glare down at the detective.
"Fin what's the address?" she asks the man who's leather jacket is already on.
"GPS says two yards from Madison Ave. Just five blocks from here."
Olivia nods accordingly as she gathers her own jacket along. "We got Case…"
You see that fast response? You know why you got another chapter, because people reviewed! Get the pattern. YOU review more, I write faster. Review for chapter eleven.