Casey isn't home when I get to her apartment. But as luck would have it, her apartment manager is in the building and I use my ADA badge to get him to let me into her apartment.

First thing I notice when I enter is that she unpacked almost all her boxes. Guess she decided she is going to stick around this time. I drape my jacket over the back of her couch and approach the guinea pig cage.

I lean down so I'm eye level. "Hey guys. Remember me?" They give little squeaks at me. They really are cute little critters. One is Calico color with hair that sticks every which way with little cowlicks. The other is all light brown with smooth fur. And they are nice and plump with a huge cage. Casey spoils them.

I wish I had a pet.

I sit down on the couch but quickly get restless so I get up and wander around. I've been here before but never really looked around.

Casey has a nice little place. Nicely decorated and sensible furniture. Her bathroom is small but most bathrooms are too small for me.

I go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I'm always so careful with my appearance. I take a long time to get ready before I leave my house and make sure every hair is in place and my makeup is perfect. Am I vain? Probably.

But looking at myself right now, I look tired. Lack of sleep is very apparent to me. I even look like I have lost weight. I haven't eaten more than a couple sandwiches and carrot sticks in days. I have no appetite.

I rest my hand on the door of Casey's medicine cabinet. I know I shouldn't look; I have no right to. But the urge is too strong and I open it quickly.

There's the usual cold medicine, band aids, ointments...everything you'd expect to find in a medicine cabinet. But the three prescription bottles are what interests me. I hesitate a moment, then I grab them.

One is Lexapro. Fill date three days ago. That's an antidepressant. One is a sleep medication, also dated three days ago. And an antibiotic she was prescribed when we get out of that hellhole. That she didn't finish taking apparently. I return the bottles to where they were and leave the bathroom.

I hear a key hit the lock just as I walk back into the living room. Casey enters, carrying a paper grocery bag. She doesn't notice me at first, and I stand with my arms crossed and wait for her to see me.

She turns around and sees me immediately. She jumps, obviously surprised to see me. "Jesus, Alex! You scared the shit out of me! How did you get in here?"

I don't answer. Instead I follow her into the kitchen where she puts the bag down on her table. I waste no time and mince no words. "What were you thinking?" I practically yell at her. "First of all, why in the world would you ever go back to that place? It was a living hell! Why? And it's a crime scene, Casey. It's still being investigated!"

She looks at me and signs. "Great. I was hoping you wouldn't find out."

She steps away from me and heads back into the living room. I follow her, not willing to let this go until she answers me.

"I can't believe you would do something so dangerous and stupid," I tell her.

Casey is sitting on her couch now trying to avoid my gaze while I carry on like a teacher scolding an out of control child.

"I know it was stupid," Casey admits. "I thought maybe if I went there again under my own power by my own choice...that it wouldn't have power over me anymore. That I would see it was just a place. But I couldn't even go inside. I just stayed outside, I walked around. I was going to leave but then a CSI unit came by. It was a really dumbass thing to do."

I sigh heavily and cross my arms in front of my chest. "Jesus, Casey...what if he had been there? What if he had shown up while you were there? Did you ever consider that?"

She knows I'm talking about Ski Mask.

Casey meets my gaze momentarily and looks away again. And she doesn't have to speak a word. I have my answer.

"That's it, isn't it? You wanted him to be there."

"Alex, you don't - "

"If you end that sentence with 'understand' I swear to god Casey I will lose it," I tell her. I can feel my heartbeat increasing and I clasp my hands together so Casey doesn't see them trembling.

I have to sit down, so I fall into the chair next to the couch. I can feel a headache creeping in but I ignore the early symptoms and plow through it.

"I want to know who he is. He is still out there. Every time I leave my apartment I am worried he is watching me. I don't feel safe at all, knowing he's out there and knows what I have done. I just thought maybe I could find a clue as to who he is," she tells me.

"You don't think the police are trying to do that? We are attorneys - let's leave the detective work to the actual detectives. I know what it's like to be paranoid. When I was Emily, I was afraid to go anywhere, for all the same reasons you just said. They are going over every inch of that place. They will find some evidence that will reveal who he is."

"I think they should have found something by now," Casey says. "Our detectives would have."

Even though I agree with her, I don't say so. That will only prove to encourage her to indulge in this foolish idea.

"So you're a detective now," I muse. "Did you really think you would find something that they wouldn't?"

She doesn't say anything for a couple moments. Then when she does it completely takes me by surprise. "Yes. I did think that.

I don't even know how to adequately respond to that. "Is therapy helping you at all?" I ask instead. Maybe she will tell me about the Lexapro.

"I've only had two sessions. But yes, it feels good to let everything out."

"Did you mention doing this to your therapist? Is that where you got this idea? Is she coaching you to risk your life?"

Casey frowns at me. "Of course not. Why would you even think that?" She stands up and starts pacing in front of me. "You really don't have a right to barge in here and judge me. I appreciate the concern, but I'm an adult and I don't need a babysitter. I can make my own decisions."

"Sounds to me like you do need a babysitter," I spit back. "Remember that talk we had about your self destructing? This is the same thing. Except instead of cutting yourself, you're hurting yourself in a different way. And it's not okay. You have to stop this."

"Its something I need to do for myself. It's not your problem or your business. So don't concern your self with it."

"It is my business. Believe it or not you really are my friend and I care about what happens to you. Don't go down that road again. As tempting as it is...obey the stop signs and keep going forward instead. Don't do this to yourself. You're better than this. Damn it, Casey, how can I make you see that? What do I have to do for you to believe me?"

I can tell she genuinely feels guilty for upsetting me so much. She meets my eyes and says - in a serious and amused tone - "Wow, that was an impassioned speech."

For some reason, I smile. The mood in the room lightens a little bit. "Thank you; I rehearsed it on the way over here."

"Yeah I can tell. Good job." She's playing with the hem of her shirt. It seems hard for her to look at me right now. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm really messed up. You're a great person and I really appreciate you being here for me. But it's going to take time for me to be well again. I've been talking to my therapist about coming back to work. She thinks it may help me. I'm not sure so I'm going to talk to McCoy about getting a reduced caseload if I do come back."

"You don't have to do that," I tell her. "I wasn't going to say anything right now, but he promoted me to Executive ADA. Just today. So I'll be in charge of case assignments. Just tell me what you need and I can make it happen. But yes you should come back. It will help get your mind off things."

Her face lights up. "Alex, that's great news! Why didn't you want to tell me that?"

"I just didn't think it was the right time,"

She smiles and looks away from me again. "Well I am extremely happy for you. You deserve it. But about what I was saying before...about not being well. I don't think we should spend so much time together anymore."

My heart drops to my feet. Am I contributing to her pain? I never meant to make her feel anxious or sad. "Why?" I ask, and I'm surprised by how sad and weak my voice sounds.

"Don't get me wrong - I do like you and consider you my friend. And I will call you if I ever need to, I promise. But you - " She pauses and has to gather herself before she continues. "You remind me of what happened. It's as simple as that. Every time we are together it's all I can think about. We wouldn't even be friends if it wasn't for what happened. You did a great thing for me by being my friend and I will be forever grateful. But I'm not good for you. It's better this way."

I can tell there is more she wants to say, but I can't sit here and listen to it. My hands are shaking uncontrollably now and I feel myself starting to panic again. I have to get out of here.

"I understand," I say quickly, jumping to my feet. I grab my jacket and bolt for the door, Casey right behind me. "I have to go. Thank you for being honest with me."

She gives me a sad look and I leave her apartment, closing the door behind me. When I'm sure she hasn't followed me I sprint down the hall towards the elevator. My breathing is hitching in my throat and my heart feels like it will leap right out of my chest. I pray I can make it to my car before I break down completely.

The elevator is taking forever and I grip the wall, tears stinging my eyes. I'm so upset right now; I can't remember the last time someone's words hurt me so much. I'm usually able to shrug off emotions and words. But what Casey said just devastated me.

The elevator finally arrives and it opens. I run inside and lean against the railing, allowing myself to cry as soon as the doors close.

It stops on my floor and as soon as the doors open, a man carrying his bike is waiting to get on. He looks at me with concern. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

No, I'm not. I'm definitely not.

I shake my head, getting off the elevator and briskly walking past him. " Can I call someone for you?" he calls after me.

But I'm already out the door. I run to my car in record time and get in. Leaning against the steering wheel, I let myself fall apart.

My chest hurts. It's constricted so tightly I feel like I can't breathe. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

I can't keep living this way.

.2

"You didn't answer the question, Alex," Dr. Mullen's words pull me from my troubled thoughts.

I stop shredding the napkin in my lap and look at her. Truth be told I can't remember what she asked me. It's my third session with my old therapist and for some reason I'm having trouble opening up.

"What was the question?"

"I asked you on our last session why you tried so hard to be Casey's friend."

I frowned. "I told you everything that happened to us. Every detail. We went through a lot together."

"But you didn't tell me why, Alex. Why is she so important to you? Do you feel sorry for her? Because she was hurt physically more than you were? Is it pity that you feel?"

I shake my head. "No. I just...feel responsible for her."

"Why, Alex?"

Dr. Mullen is great at getting right down to the core of issues. Sometimes her line of questioning can infuriate me but she always makes me admit what I truly feel.

"Because it was my fault. She was taken because of me. Because I came back. If I hadn't, neither of us would have gone through that. She saved my life. She got me out of there and I couldn't even..." I hesitate to say it. "I couldn't even stick around to help her. She had to do something that no one should have to do and I just got to run away. It ruined her life. It changed her and it's my fault." Tears slide down my cheek. "I'm such a coward. I ruined her life and she didn't deserve that."

Its the first time I've admitted to myself the guilt I feel for what happened; all of it, but mostly for forcing Casey to kill those men.

Once I've started talking, I can't stop. "And I can't stop thinking about it. I try to push it aside. I thought if I helped Casey any way I could it might alleviate some of the guilt I felt. If I helped her heal and get back a semblance of the life she had before then maybe I could redeem myself a little. But she's so broken. And it's my fault."

I start to cry again, and Dr. Mullen hands me the box of tissues from the nearby stand. I dab my eyes with one of them.

"You are a very caring person who feels very deeply, even though you don't like to show it," she tells me. "And every time we have ever talked, you show no concern for yourself. When we had sessions those years ago you always talked about cases you had and people you weren't able to help when you wanted to. People you worked with whom you wanted to befriend but were afraid to open yourself up to. You never show concern for yourself, Alex. And you are the one whom you should be most concerned about."

I frown. "That would make me selfish."

"No - it wouldn't. You have to love yourself, Alex. You have to accept that you have limitations. As much as you want to do for others, there is only so far you can stretch yourself. Sometimes circumstances are out of anyone's control. It is not your fault what happened to you and your friend. Does she blame you, Alex? Has she ever said that?"

"No. Never. She doesn't blame me at all. But she should."

"She knows it's not your fault, Alex. She's forgiven you for something you never even needed to be forgiven for. Now you have to forgive yourself. You can care about Casey. You can be there for her. But you have to be there for yourself too. You come first, before anyone else. Don't do it at your expense. Don't let it consume you."

"I just want to help her," I say. "I can't help it. I'm just...really fond of her. I don't get close to people often or easily. But I like Casey. I feel like myself around her. Like I don't have to pretend. She thinks if we hadn't been locked there together we wouldn't have been friends. Maybe that's true but I like to think it's not. She's like me. She's driven and stubborn and too smart and doesn't listen to anyone."

"Then why don't you talk to her, Alex? Why don't you tell her what you told me? How you feel? If she's important to you then you need to be honest with her."

I sigh and sit back on the couch. "She doesn't want anything to do with me. I told you what she said. Being around me hurts her. I don't need to burden her with my feelings and baggage."

"Real friends don't burden each other. If someone is important to you, don't give up on them. You already know that. Even if they say hurtful things or try and push you away. You need to tell her how you feel. She may need to hear that in order to heal. And you have to say it in order for you to heal. If she's your friend she wants to be there for you as much as you want to be there for her. Let her."

I sit and think about what she's said. I know she's right.

"These panic attacks you've been getting...you can't do this to yourself, Alex. Remember the advice I gave you before? When you start to feel yourself panic, close your eyes and count to ten. Before you open your eyes again tell yourself three things that you can control and three things you can't. Give yourself a compliment. And then open your eyes."

Dr. Mullen leans forward and takes my hand in here. "You can get through this, Alex. I know you can. You are one of the strongest people I know."

I sure hope she's right.

.3

Almost a week has passed since my session with Dr. Mullen. Casey is coming back to work next week. I haven't spoken to her since that day in her apartment.

I have a DA meeting to attend and I'm running late due to court of course. By the time I arrive the room is full and all the good donuts are taken. But luckily McCoy hasn't arrived yet so I know I haven't missed anything.

"Casey Novak is coming back, that's what I heard," a woman says from a few seats down. I recognize the woman even though I have never worked closely with her - Kim Greylek, a junior ADA. She's talking with another woman that I don't know.

I pretend like I don't hear them talking but I'm straining very hard to listen.

"Oh, wonderful. What a gain for us," the other woman says.

"Guess she wants to lose even more cases so she can add it to her psychological wreckage," Greylek says. She and the other woman laugh bitterly.

I can't hold my tongue anymore. I slam my file down on the table, which causes everyone on my side of the table to turn and look at me.

"Keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about," I hiss at Greylek. "Do you make it a habit to slander your colleagues? You have no idea what she's been through...or me. So keep your goddamn mouth shut and if I hear you even say her name, you have to answer to me."

It's clear she hadn't meant to be heard and she mutters a weak apology and looks away from me. I hope she's ashamed; she should be.

I look around the table, realizing the size of my audience grew. So I take advantage of that. "Anyone else have something to say?" I pause a moment. "Anyone?"

The other woman whispers something to Greylek.

"Excuse me? Something you want to share with everyone?" I demand, beyond angry.

She glances around the table and back at me. "I was just saying that no one is going to insult Alex Cabot's pet with her present."

I can actually feel my face grow red with anger. I can't remember the last time I was this angry. I can feel sets of eyes on me, just waiting for my reaction. My blood pressure is through the roof and my hands start to shake again.

I stand up and glare at this woman who dared to say those words to me. I grip the table so hard that my knuckles turn white. Somehow I'm able to form coherent words. "If you ever say anything like that to me - or Casey - again, you will greatly regret it. I'll make it my mission to destroy you. And believe me, I can do that. Don't try me."

Before she can respond, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Jack McCoy.

And he does not look happy