Again, totally sorry for the delay. But as a consolation, I made this chapter fat and juicy. :)
It took work for Casey to get out of bed this past week. It feels better this way, to be totally oblivious to the world and just lay in bed along with her daughter for eternity. Unfortunately, life didn't suit her benefit and she had to get up...and to see her. It's been about two weeks since the kidnapping but the detectives were on it as if it was yesterday. There was a constant shift of cops patrolling are building twenty four hours day, Olivia the primary detective of course. Usually there was a cop circling her building and the brunette in her home incase the unknown perp was bold enough to break in, but now, especially after that night, Olivia hasn't stepped foot in her apartment.
Casey tries not to think of it but her mind always have a way of betraying her desires.
The little sleep she's gotten the past few days consisted of Olivia throwing her against the wall, or the couch, and sometimes she let herself complete what Olivia would've done had she said the right thing. It stimulates and aggravates her that she could get excited thinking about how cold and deflective the detective was to her that night. How her seemingly unsure and inexperienced hands seem to stroke and burn every waking nerve in her body. Fuck! She's suppose to hate her for making her feel like a cheap floozy, but the thick haze of pleasure and overwhelming stimulation shadowed that appropriate reaction toward the detective.
She hates a woman that made her unintentionally climax in her sleep. Yay.
Her scurrying thoughts of self-deprecation and shameful arousal stops when she hears tiny, short-paced footsteps appearing louder as seconds go by. A smile creeps across her previously grave expression when her daughter comes in and leaps on the bed, giggling softly to herself as the little one bounces from her actions. "Someone's up early." Luckily with Emily here, Casey hasn't found the convenient time, aside from the same night, to fully break down into the depression that lives with her internally. She refuses to ruin her daughter's life anymore than she already has, not being there predominately, letting her get kidnapped, refusing to settle with marrying Trevor.
Olivia isn't worth that much of a sacrifice.
"I had a dream so I woke up," the little one smiles, briefly, before it fades as she lets out a lazy shrug. Casey senses in her posture and behavior that evidently it wasn't a pleasant one nor she wanted to talk about it. Emily has this smile, though it nearly mirrors her mother's her electric blue eyes and fresh cut dimples make it more hypnotic, and she uses it as a defense mechanism to get people off her case.
That's the one area that they are complete opposites; if Casey's afraid she shows no emotion contrast to Emily's overly cheery character.
Emily's been happier than ever this week...and that scares the A.D.A.
"A dream, eh?" Inadvertently Casey squeezes her eyes shut, mentally kicking herself in the ass for bringing it up. She's a prosecutor and her natural character when conversing with people comes off as an...interrogation at times, and just now she heard the slight edge of skepticism and accusation in her tone. As expected the small girl furrows her brow as her eyes nervously dart to the floor.
"It's...it was just a dream so...can I go back to sleep now?"
Sometimes Casey feels that Emily is only this distant with her because she isn't around the A.D.A as frequent as she likes, and isn't exactly comfortable to admit her fears and inadequacies to the ginger. It hurts her and it makes her boil with rage that Trevor would do this, but she has to play with the hand that's dealt to her and she'll do anything to seek happiness in the small child.
"Sure baby," she sadly replies, wishing she could do more.
Emily gives Casey a peck on the cheek before she climbs out of the bed and dashes out of the room, on to her own. When she hears the soft thud of Emily's door close, she slides further into her bed and wraps herself in the cool cloth of her silk sheets. It's been a long week, she thinks with an exhausted sigh. Between the Olivia situation and her daughter's kidnapping juggling her mind, she's shocked that she had the strength to keep her eyes open. Well she could finally drift off to sleep...
Not until she hears...that!
The sound isn't distinctively identifiable, nothing too loud and sharp, but it surely gets her flying into an upright position scurrying her head in numerous directions. Among her sex-crazed fantasies of Olivia taking her hard and fast, she's had terrifying nightmares of the perpetrator returning to her home to kidnap Emily, perhaps something worse, brutal, the second time around. Her typical maternal instincts had grown erratic and rash because of this whole kidnapping and it's gotten worse when Emily's home, 'safe', in her apartment. She wants to just lock up the little one in her bedroom and keep her there, safe, forever, and the fact that it's not safe nor healthy to do, it scares the living hell out of her.
Letting the initial shock and fear trail into pure instinct and adrenaline, she leaps out of bed, making sure her toes hit the floor lightly, and grabs the bat she now has under her bed. She's been fooled once to think that her daughter is safe in her grasp, but her naivety has seized; the next person who tries to bring harm to she and her family will get iron to their skull.
Slowly she slips between the small space that's left in the opened door, peeks her head to look at the longer half of the hallway before she lets out a jagged sigh. From this angle she could only see a straight view of her front door, which appears to be locked and unarmed, but she didn't have view of her living room or kitchen and with her heart galloping in her chest, it surely didn't help.
The only room she has close access to is her daughter's room. The most important room.
With one more courageous breath and an extra grip to the base of the bat, she takes one hand off as she slowly walks to her daughter's door, frequently looking behind her incase of stealth guards. She's terrified; if there are men in her house they could have guns and could do far more damage then a short-distanced bat could. But she needed to do what she could and as of now, the bat had to suffice. Finally at the door, she slowly shapes her hand to fit the knob, slowly turning it and steadily opens the door, sharply but quietly waving her instrument in the air with her head flying in all directions. From what she could see, everything is in it's usual place; daughter shockingly still sleep in her bed, possessions not destroyed or moved. Okay Emily is okay, she thinks with a sigh, but there are more rooms in this apartment that needs to be checked out and she'd be damned if she's going to sleep without checking them.
Determination and adrenaline returning to her veins, she escorts herself out of the room, mutely closing it behind her, and begins to walk the hallway; a hall in theory that doesn't have much square feet but still manages to feel like a whole coliseum. Has she begins to see more and more of her house, her grip of her bat gets tighter, her heart beats with such potency she's bound to drop at this rate, and her eyes widen. She's at the conjuncture of her living room and hall, giving her view of the right side of the large room and all she could is her large windows, half of the sofa and her plasma. From here it seems like they are all in the right place so she continues to walk with guard, the grip on her bat just as tight, if not tighter. As she walks around she's noticed that things are in order and now she believes that it it just her simple paranoia that concocted the sound in her head. The kitchen is fine, bathroom, both of the bedrooms, and her living room. There isn't another place to check.
Wow you've honestly lost it, she thinks with a sigh, hunching her shoulders, almost dragging the roof of the bat to the floor as she trudges back into her bedroom. And as her heart finally begins to regulate in normalcy, it dawns on her that she, and possibly Emily, could've been killed. She didn't call Olivia, not that she wanted to but it would've been the safest option, nor she had a weapon that was long-ranged to do actual damage. She's failed, again, as a mother and a protector. Why did she do this to herself and her daughter? As painful as it sounds, it seems like her daughter would be safe if Trevor had her full time...no! Emily is her daughter and she's entitled to take care of her and get to know her. She birthed her and she was the first one the mini-ginger saw when those electric blue eyes opened. In fact she didn't see her father until a month later while he was 'out on business' in Paris.
Now she could finally sleep...finally.
She can the minute the damn phone stops ringing!
With a muffled and annoyed groan, Casey stretches her arm to get the phone off the nightstand, answering it without bothering to look at the caller id.
"Novak," the ginger groans in a clearly aggravated note.
"Oh...hey," the clearly flustered female tone replies, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I could call back later if you'd like..."
Casey never thought that she'd hear the deep rasp of the woman's tone again...especially by the way she inadvertently shunned her these past few weeks.
"No, no it's fine Abbie," she says, lifting herself to a sitting position. "How's it going?"
"I could be asking you the same question."
Yes it's true; Casey's had an emotional, heartbreaking month and she could range her despair and pain from the loss of her daughter, to the terrible mistreat Olivia Benson has done to her heart. She really could go down the line, in fact a part of her wants to vent at a third party, but she's grown numb, tired of sheer ache.
It'll be easier to never speak of her again...
"It's been a tough time," she decides to go truthfully, "but I'm putting my life back to order. But uh...anyway, how 'bout you? What's new?"
There's a pause through the phone conversation, and it's Abbie detecting Casey's core emotions; something she'd always found unsettling. "I just...I just.." the Texan sighs, "want to say that I'm sorry for not seeing you. I tried any excuse to get up there but my boss is a real dick...and a frugal one."
That somehow brings a smile to the ginger's face, that someone finally wants her for a change. She's gotten, aside from Abbie's dark humor and fluid sexuality, that the southerner has a kind, concerning heart and makes it her business to shine her jubilance to those in need.
"It's okay Ab-" Though Casey has a dismissive laugh coming along, the Texan apparently doesn't find it funny.
"-No it's not okay. I'm supposed to be there to help you get through this, and I wasn't!"
"I had the squad with me Abbie," Casey softly smiles, touched at Abbie's concern. "They were there every step of the way. I had friends-"
"You know we're not just friends," she interrupts sternly, halting Casey's humor to a stop.
"Abbie..."
And she inadvertently brings it up, which isn't much of a surprise. When she and Abbie talk for long periods of time, somehow the past manages to jump into conversation. And Abbie's right; they were so much more. Their relationship surpassed any friendship she's ever had and it still brings a strike of pain to her heart when she remembers what she's done. She used her, manipulated and toyed with the Texan's heart for her personal gain and yet Abbie still found a way to forgive her. And that's what makes it worse. That Abbie can't find the internal anger to lash out at her. Her guilt will dissipate if she had...but it's been four years. That'll never happen, unfortunately.
"I know, I know, forget it never happened, I know," the brunette replies with a sigh. "All I know is that I should've been there for you...and I will now if...if you'd like."
Again, Abbie is simply the sweetest woman she's ever met, and it would be simple to love her. The woman is tall, smart, funny, career-orientated, and just wholeheartedly beautiful. Why couldn't she love her? Because another woman already has her heart, voluntary or not.
"You don't have to..." she begins to say and sighs when she hears a disappointed "okay" as a replie.
"It's not...it's not like I don't want you to-"
"You just don't want Emmy to see me," she interjects icily, innocence and concern no longer lacing her voice.
Another sigh leaves the A.D.A's lips as she runs her fingers through her disheveled crimson curls. She hates when Abbie does this, bring up the past, forcing her to relive her vindictiveness and selfishness. "I can't take that chance Abbie...I'm completely sorry for what I did before but Emily...I need to have my daughter in my life-"
"That was four years ago! I highly doubt she remembers what happened-"
"I can't take that chance-"
"Because I'm such a horrible, deviant right?" she snorts bitterly. "I'm sorry, I got it wrong," she continues in a mocking tone, "I ruin the sanctity of marriage."
The ginger's hand grows clammy against the phone. "You know that's not what I meant and..." her heart hammers, eyes closing shut as her thoughts pierce her in various directions.
This needs to stop.
"I'm not having this conversation-"
"Of course you're not! You never want to-"
"Abbie!" It's getting out of hand when she feels tears encircle her eyes. Ironically this is what she wants, for Abbie to take vengeance, but not now, during this time. A time when she's at any moment that she could break. "Please..."
There is a low, steady silence before she hears a sigh, an apologetic one, from the other end. "I understand...and I'll respect your wishes. Call me if you need anything."
Before Casey has the chance to reply, she hears a click then a dial tone. Abbie's always first to hang up because she doesn't want to hear and relive the pain Casey has caused, and the ginger understands her reasoning. She's hurt her, repeatedly, and it's obvious Abbie still feels for her. One wouldn't put their heart and pride on the table just to get it crushed by just anybody. She knows that; especially with her own situation, where she could find her heart tear each and every Thursday Olivia picked up her clothes and walked out of her apartment. She and Abbie mirror the pain, the confusion of their own actions, everything, yet she still does it because at the end of the day no one wants be alone.
And Abbie will always be here...
Somehow through her wave of guilt, Casey got about an hour of uninterrupted sleep. It seemed longer because, for once, there wasn't any horrid dreams of the mysterious kidnapper, or vivid fantasies of Olivia; just silence. Long, black, blissful silence. Even if it was just sixty minutes, she hasn't been this relaxed in a very long time. Unfortunately, she doesn't live alone; she has a daughter and responsibilities to fulfill.
Welcome back to the real world... she grumbles to herself as she laboriously crawls out of bed. She should tidy up the living room but since that seems like too much work for her lackadaisical attitude, she decides to pad to the kitchen, initially wanting a light snack but comes across a sink full of dishes, to clean in there. It's what she finds on her kitchen counter that halts her to stop. That makes her blood still for long seconds, long enough that she could feel herself turning pale.
Green eyes widen wildly; her shaky hand manages to shield her gaping, shuttering mouth. There it was; the retaliation; the message her silent kidnappers left.
A butchered dog's head.
Her instinct begs her to scream, shout in a long trailing roar, but her maternal instinct stops that. She's horrified and scared enough; she doesn't need to scare Emily. So she attempts to take deep breaths, failing miserably when they come off shaky as tears trail down her pale cheeks.
The white terrier looked as if it died in sheer agony. Those dull brown eyes, ones that Casey feel were once soft and playful, lay wide on her. The little canine's final thoughts were probably confusion, solid fear, and just...why? How could a normal, functioning person take out man's best friend? The same person who could take a child from their own mother... as the response circles her mind the realization hit. This was done carefully, quietly, purposefully, and considering she barely smelled the stench of death, this was damn near recent.
Someone could still be in the house!
"Emily!" she gasps softly as she charges to the little girl's room, resisting her maternal instinct to bolt down the ivory door with practicality and common sense. If they are in this room, she needs to come prepared and quietly.
Like they did.
Now with the thought in mind that someone is in her home, she softly but hurriedly walks back into the kitchen, failing to overlook the dead animal on her counter, and opens a drawer to take out a sharp butcher knife.
She's coming prepared this time.
She returns to the door in the same speed she left and slowly opens the door, waving the sharp instrument in various directions in the same manner she moved the back just an hour ago. Fortunately she's gotten the same results she did an hour ago: Emily's alone, sleeping, with just the A.D.A's fear and paranoia and relief misting the room. But it's different this time; someone was actually here and the dead canine in her kitchen is the proof. Emily's kidnapping was just the start; whomever hated her with such intensity was sending a message and she's never been so terrified.
She just might have to call her...
Casey wants to pretend that this never happened, that this is some sick dream her mind managed to concoct, but with the immensity of peril she's caught in, she can't just overlook this. She needs comfort, that trained womanly touch that makes other's feel as if they will be okay. That this is just a rough patch in her life that's manageable to live through. The A.D.A hates her, hates herself, what happened between them, but she knows what she needs to keep her sane.
Casey reaches for the phone on the nightstand and begins dialing...
Olivia sits in her small bedroom, pretending that she's absent from her boyfriend's bigger one because her apartment is closer to Casey's. That she's only here in case of an emergency or lead to Emily's kidnapping. But even she can't hide from herself or the obvious strain that's formed in she and the male detective's relationship.
And Casey's... She's been thinking of the redhead for days now, mostly fantasizing what could've been- with her bursting out of sleep in cold sweat- but other times it could be just minuscule things- she and her at the precinct, finding some reason to smile, looking past their bleak and horrid careers to show their humanity and personality.
She did have a beautiful smile...
Other times where they would go out for lunch and slip into easy-going conversation, chuckling lightly over chinese or italian, are the times she's truly missed. First came an agreement, that lead to a friendship, a friendship that trailed into some stronger, till it crumbled as fast as it began. Now she has no one. Her left side of the bed remains cold and uncreased. Even before, when Olivia wasn't outwardly friendly with the A.D.A, Casey was always there. But now, she's utterly alone and it's involuntary. Somehow that crushes her pride.
Her racing thoughts ram into silence when she feels the vibration of her phone against her hip. It's a text from Elliot; a text. A few short months ago, the male detective yearned to hear her voice any chance he could. Now...he couldn't even look at her without those blue eyes hardening in disgust.
Decapitated dog left on Novak's kitchen counter. Be there in thirty.
Stabler.
She ignored the blatant coldness and dissociation of the message to analyze the context of the message. Casey...a dog? It didn't make sense; Casey didn't have a dog. As a woman, a friend- she'd like to think of herself to hold that title- her mind scurries of the worst. The kidnapper returning to finish the job, butchering Casey, Emily, and a mysterious dog. But as a detective she has to think as she jumps out of bed, throwing on shoes- she's already dressed- and her leather jacket; if they were dead then Elliot would've included it, or told her that Warner was on the scene. Since neither of the two doesn't seem to be evident, then Casey must be okay. Besides, someone had to call the police and Olivia assumes it was Casey.
She must be terrified; all scared with no one to protect her since Casey kicked the detective out a week ago.
I'll be there soon, baby.
Olivia's at the apartment in twenty minutes, after distastefully kicking out a customer from a cab with the help of her badge. She considers dirty cops or authority-abusers to be the worse of all criminals, but her hypocrisy currently didn't bother her. This is an emergency and the A.D.A needs emotional consoling, despite her expected immediate decline. After being bombarded by cops, medical examiners and CSU, Casey is going to be drained and humans naturally draw to comfort when needed. She has no one else; Olivia is all she needs and the detective is more than happy to give her the emotional support she desires.
As Olivia presumed, the A.D.A's apartment was filled with crime teams, camera flashes of evidence, medical examiners, etc. It's routine. Though an animal is apparently dead, a person sent this out as a message, a bold one, that this isn't over and Emily was just the beginning.
But what did surprise the detective, the black sheep among white wool, is who Casey is beside.
Carmichael.
The thin woman is sitting beside the ginger, a bit close for friendship even through a crisis like this, with the silent A.D.A's head on her shoulder.
Olivia's jaw unconsciously clenches as she watches them, Casey, how she seems to gravitate to the dark-haired woman's touch. She could still see that Casey is still terrified, walking into a dead animal could do that to someone, but there's something in those emerald eyes that show... perseverance. Like the ginger has the knowledge that everything will be okay, and it's all because of...her!
Jealousy rumbles in the pit of her stomach, continuing to watch them with thorough eyes, picking up the body language, Abbie's thin fingers subtly- and absentmindedly- twirling into the ends of crimson curls, the brunette whispering what Olivia assumes is reassurance in the ginger's ear, Casey clearly buying it!
It's making her sick.
Thankfully, her jealousy and unjustified anger is tamed when she hears the front door open and close behind her, and she feels the presence of a being. It's Elliot, she reveals, eyes cold with disassociation and professionalism. He couldn't even look at her for longer than a few seconds...
"El," she tries, failing miserably to smile as she looks up at him. There's no point; he may not know who took her heart but he damn sure knows it's taken. Smiling and veiling the truth only deepens the wound in his heart.
"Kitchen's that way," he mumbles, looking over her head to what Olivia assumes is the hall leading to the small kitchen. He's already gone before she says yes, but that no longer bothered her.
She has other priorities to sort out.
With a sigh her eyes return on the two women on the couch, whispering something soft that Olivia couldn't detect. She walks over, trying to control her breathing, her temper, so she wouldn't embarrass herself nor the people before her. She just needs to talk about the case; then she wouldn't have to worry about ripping Carmichael's head off.
"Hey," Olivia says as she finally walks before them, crouching down to her knee to have aligned eye contact with the two women. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I already took my statement," goes the A.D.A's brisk reply, eyes not even attempting to glance at Olivia's.
"I understand this must be hard..." This whole case is too hard for Olivia, "but...I just need to know what's going on-"
"I came in and saw a dead dog on my counter. That's it." Casey is bitter and sarcastic; responses that Olivia definitely deserved at this moment.
"Did they leave anything else?"
"No." Again, her eyes stay aligned on Abbie's thigh.
"They really wanted to scare you Casey. This...this must be something else-"
"It was a dog, detective. It doesn't hold significance-"
Her heart wants to gaze into the ginger's beautiful green orbs, and shoo away Casey's 'old friend', but her mind only holds the goal of keeping the Novak family safe. And that racing mind of her always think outside of the box. "Did Emily have or want a white dog? Usually young girls like small puppies."
The question confuses the A.D.A, but she sits upright and moves slightly, enough for Olivia, from Carmichael's touch to think over the question. After a slight pause the A.D.A mumbles "No...but..."
"But?"
"I...I had a white puppy when I was a kid." The ginger's eyes widen as the revelation hit her and she begins to speak more quickly and confidently. "Yeah, I had a terrier named Bagel when I was like eight."
"Whatever happened to him?"
Casey flinches slightly as her brow remains furrowed. "He got hit by a car chasing the ball some kid threw in the street and...and...he was decapitated." Her voice breaks again as she returns her position of her head on Abbie's shoulder, the thin woman immediately rubs along her arm in a soothing manner.
It took work for Olivia to overlook the blatant affection Abbie is showing, but she has a job to do and she promised Casey she'd do it to the best of her ability. "Do you know anyone who might know that? Family? A friend?"
The ginger shakes her head.
Olivia needs to push harder. "C'mon Casey, did you tell a friend from school, a teacher maybe? This could get us somewhere."
Again, the ginger lifts from the brunette's position to think of an answer but her mind obviously draws a blank. "My mom and dad...and..Trevor." That gets a rise in Olivia's attention as her eyes shift from the ginger's to the brunette's beside her.
"Trevor, huh?" From the first occasion Olivia met Trevor, her guard naturally grew. Something just seem...off about him and she didn't know what it was. Though she clearly didn't like him, or didn't trust him, Casey seems to be peeved with that furrowed brow and narrowed eyes.
"No, no, Trevor wouldn't do this-"
"When I met him, Casey, he didn't seem...to be fond of you," Olivia answers softly, trying to put that delicately. "And you told me he's cold and-"
"Not cold enough to purposefully traumatize his daughter!" she hisses back, clenching her jaw.
Olivia makes a careless glance at Abbie but return her gaze on her when the detective notices that the brunette no longer holds that concerned, consoling look it once had before. Now, thin frame is just as stiff, arms briskly folded over her knees, dark eyes glued to hands.
She's hiding something.
"Abbie, is there something on your mind?"
The woman stiffens some more as a long pause goes on by.
She's definitely hiding something.
"Trevor takes...he really wanted full custody," she gazes up at Casey but the ginger is clearly taken back by disgust.
"You think...you really think that Trevor, the father of my daughter, our daughter, would fake a kidnapping to get Emily back?" her eyes fill with repugnance and disdain, but somehow the conclusion makes sense to Olivia and Abbie.
"People get real low during custody battles, Casey," Olivia replies softly, running her fingers through her wavy brown locks. Casey's disappointed, utterly disgusted in what she's hearing, and she looks over to Abbie to somehow get some support but, alas, those big brown eyes cower to the ground, showing her agreement in Olivia's claim.
"Well screw you for accusing a man whose daughter was kidnapped because you need a body to tie this to! And screw you, too!" Casey growls as her gaze shift to the brunette A.D.A. "Screw the both of you!" She rises from her seat, bolting out of the living room heading toward the door where Abbie tries to follow.
"Let her go," Olivia whispers as she rests a hand on the A.D.A's shoulder to still her movements. "She needs time to process..."
What a hypocrite Olivia is. She yearns to bolt outside and pacify the livid woman, hold her again, to console her, to make Casey hers, the whole nine yards. Abbie's here so she couldn't be as outwardly affectionate as she planned, but she will be.
Casey Novak will be hers again.
So yeah guys, juiciness on the case ^_^ More to come on that by the way. So yeah, review and tell me what you think and to get chapter 15.