A/N: A bit of a shorter one for you this time around, my friends. I hope the next chapter will make up for it! Everything has to be built up. It's how I roll.

Inspired by "Night," season 6, episode 20.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Law & Order: SVU, its characters, or storylines. I make no money from this work of fiction, that is inspired by an episode, but otherwise created from my own mind. Any relation or resemblance to another story or a real life instance is purely coincidence.

Recovery

Chapter 11

kateandharvey

When the detective had opened the door, the captain immediately seemed taken aback at the sight of her. "I know, I know," Olivia said, "I look like shit."

Ever-supportive, he responded, "Just tired," as he stepped past the doorway and into the room. "But I'd expect nothing less after what you've been through." Gesturing to the cane he'd brought with him for the injured woman, he asked, "Where's Novak?"

"Still asleep." Olivia answered, and he rested the cane against the wall.

"Good. Sleep is good for her." He moved into the living room, waving off Olivia's offer of a drink as she sipped from her own coffee, and sat down in the chair. He gave the brunette a look, "Good for you, too."

She nodded, running a hand through her hair and sitting down across from him. "I'm fine."

"You always are," he replied, "How is she?" Before she could answer, the well-knowing man added, "Really."

The woman sighed. "She's…" How should she explain this? "…overwhelmed. Scared. Frustrated." She knew Don Cragen wasn't captain for nothing. He was a damn good cop, and the more she revealed, the more of a chance there was of him gathering his own impressions.

"And physically?" He asked.

"Okay." She said, "Tired. Moving kind of slowly, but not too bad. In a bit of pain." She took a sip from her mug.

"Anything to be concerned about?"

"I don't think so," she said, but, remembering Casey's pain, added, "There was a moment, though. When we were in bed-" she stopped abruptly, catching herself, only a moment too late, "—she laughed so hard last night, I thought she might've popped a stitch, but I checked it out." She forced herself not to think about what happened after, "It all seemed fine." With the look the captain was giving her, she felt pressured to keep talking, so she added, "Wouldn't hurt to get it checked out, though."

The man nodded, "I agree. We'd rather be safe than sorry. I'll see about getting someone over here." He scanned over the tired detective, "How are you, Olivia?"

"Fine."

"The truth," he demanded like a stern father.

Olivia sighed. "I'm okay," she ran a hand through her curly brunette hair, "A bit stressed," she admitted, "definitely tired, but okay."

Cragen studied her. After so many years together, he knew Olivia Benson like the back of his hand, and he felt (and hoped) he was someone she trusted. He had no logical reason to feel like she was lying to him, but his investigative gut told him otherwise. While he would usually let it slide simply because he trusted the detective with his own life, in this situation, there was no room for her to start coming apart at the seams.

"If there's something going on," his voice was tough, "I need to know before it affects your safety." He grew gentler in tone, "I also need to know because I care about you."

Olivia grew defensive and bit, "If I had an issue that affected our safety, I would let you know."

He sat back, and knew he needed to leave well enough alone before he lost his head. "Okay." She sighed. "Then, I'm glad you and Casey are both doing alright." Switching gears, he smiled, "The two of you clearly haven't killed each other yet, so that's a good sign."

The brunette laughed. "It's been 24 hours. I'm not in here with Elliot." She referenced the explosive relationship she had with her partner in good fun.

"Oh, I know," his eyes widened in mirth, "there was no blood spatter when I came in."

They both chuckled, and the detective said, "Give it time. I'm sure Novak and I will get there before this whole thing is over."

The man shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

"You know as well as I do that we go for each other's throats on a near regular basis."

"It's different," he disagreed almost immediately, "You and Stabler argue over differences. You and Novak always have the same end goal, you just disagree on how to get there."

Feeling a pang in her gut at the mention of how they often wanted the same results, Olivia vaguely replied, "Not always."

"No," he relented, "but a good chunk of the time." He smiled, thinking he was calming Olivia down when he was really only amping her up. "Makes for a good team." Seemingly lost in his own thought, the captain continued. "I'm glad you two are here together. Not happy about the circumstances, of course, but it's nice to know that you have each other."

Thinking of how well Casey understood her, how comfortable she felt when in her presence, and how she could find all of the cracks in the wall that the detective worked so hard to keep up, she smiled. "Yeah," she said, "I'm glad, too."

Shaking herself out of her reverie, the detective caught just the last part of the redhead's sentence. "-and I don't need a doctor."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You do. You'll get checked out, and your bandages changed, you'll appease both me and Cragen, and then we can both go back on our merry way."

It was almost 3:00, the doctor long gone, and they were both in the living room reading. Casey on the couch, Olivia in the chair. It had only been after 15 minutes of the detective arguing that yes, an ebook was a book that the other woman gave in and allowed her to read in peace. While Casey preferred the hard texture and "smell of the pages,"—whatever that meant—Olivia appreciated the modern luxury that was multiple books in your pocket at any time. With her job, she never knew when she would have free time or be able to go to bed. Having a book accessible at all times was a convenience, and one that she enjoyed.

Thinking of this, she glanced up from her phone to see the redhead deep into a Harry Potter that she knew she'd read at least 30 times before. She took this opportunity to study her, her back against one arm of the couch with her legs stretched out in front of her. She wore the same Sex Crimes tee and gray sweatpants, but had added a pair of patterned socks when she complained of cold feet in the early afternoon.

Olivia could not deny that Casey was beautiful. She had an air about her that simply oozed elegance, and her creamy skin complexion with the long columned throat only supported its efforts.

It wasn't the first time the brunette had thought this about her friend, but here, on the couch with a book in her hand as they read together but separately, she carried something domestic that Olivia ached for.

It was alluring, and this thought alone made the brunette curious. Exiting from her ebook, she stole a glance at the other woman before opening her web browser and slowly typing in, gay.

She was met with many results, most of which she was rather embarrassed by, so she quickly deleted her previous word and instead typed into the search bar, how to know you're gay.

Another glance at the ADA, and a tap onto the first link.

The screen flashed in rainbow colors, and in big, black lettering, read:

My dearest friend,

If you are asking the question, "am I gay?" I have a spoiler for you: you probably are.

Feeling flustered, she immediately exited the screen and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to men. In fact, she was. She'd been attracted to, dated, and slept with men. All activities that she found rather enjoyable. Yet, she couldn't deny the difference in jolt that hit her in the stomach or the change in feeling of arousal, or sudden desire for commitment when it came to the counselor.

After her interlude with the other woman, Olivia had suddenly found herself struggling with something she'd always had together: her identity. While it didn't matter what label was put on it, she was in need of any piece of anything which she could use as a basis for discovering what the hell was happening inside of her.

A rather wild idea landed in the detective's head, and she took another look at the counselor.

Her best friend had told her about an attraction to women, and not only an attraction, but a relationship that was so serious that it had turned into an engagement. In any other circumstance, this would be her most obvious and clear option. Now, however, she was unsure of what it was.

Would asking for Casey's help give her the wrong idea? Would it be alright to ask questions? Was this something she just had to figure out on her own?

Tired of the self-inflicted torment and the second-guessing with the one person she never second-guessed herself with before, the brunette let out a sigh and asked, "Case?" At the woman's look, she continued, "Could I ask you something?"