A/N Sorry, this has taken ages! I wrote the chapter, but then wound up completely re-doing it, but finally it's here. Anyhoo, I feel the need to point out that the whole Casey/Olivia fight will occur later, and will be epic… that last bit in the last chapter was more of an 'almost' fight really. Anyhow, on to the story… drop me a review if you're so inclined
Chapter Twenty-One: Caught
ONE WEEK EARLIER
THE SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT HOLDING CELLS, NEW YORK
If looks could kill, Olivia did not doubt that she'd be writhing on the floor in the last throes of a pulmonary embolism as she entered the sight line of Casey Novak, glaring at her between the bars of the holding cell, lips taut in a grumpy pout . She was sat on the bed, knees drawn up under her chin, arms securing them there.
"Do you want me to grab you a jumpsuit?" Olivia asked in a deliberately cheery, sing-song manner. Casey was still wearing her sheep print pyjamas, and she imagined this was only adding to the lawyers fury. Casey was silent, brooding. She didn't even acknowledge that Olivia was speaking. "You're right, it'll probably clash with your hair."
"Let me out, or leave me alone." Casey said abruptly.
"Casey, we're just trying to keep you safe," Olivia said softly. She leant against the bars nearest Casey, trying to get a read off the younger woman. Casey got to her feet, storming up to the bars.
"Stop pluralizing this Detective, you brought me in, now I don't know if this part of some misguided new years resolution, or if you're just pissed off that I'm seeing Elliot, and frankly, I don't give a damn. This has to stop."
"This has nothing to do with Elliot," Olivia said, voice peaking involuntarily. Even if she was off base with her assessment of Olivia's motivations, Casey had struck a nerve. The ADA wasn't blind to the shift in Olivia's behaviour, her expression became focused, and she tilted her head slightly to the left, her stare gaining a sudden intensity.
"Then explain it to me," Casey said levelly, placing her hands onto the vertical bars before her.
Olivia remained noncommittal, "is it that hard to believe that I just want to keep you out of danger?"
"Yes." Casey replied flatly. It had always struck Olivia as strange that Casey was one of the most honest (to a level that verged on bluntness) people she had ever met, considering her chosen profession. Olivia tended to play her cards closer to her chest.
"I'll be back in the morning," Olivia quietly, stepping back from the holding cell.
"Screw this," Casey muttered angrily, turning her back on the Detective. She didn't blame Casey for being suspicious of her motives. Hell, a month ago, she would have left the stubborn lawyer to fend for herself.
But of course, the chance DNA match-up had changed everything.
Family was a word Olivia could apply to a very limited number of people. Discovering her relation to Casey had doubled that number to two, so understandably, something had stirred inside her, a protective drive.
But that same protective spirit also meant that Olivia had settled on a decision about disclosing the secret to Casey.
She couldn't.
Especially not after she had heard the full story.
AROUND A MONTH AGO
THE RESIDENCE OF HANNAH AND JOSHUA NOVAK
"You have to tell her the truth," Olivia said finally, "it'll be hard for her, but what's most important is that you love her, no matter where she came from."
Casey's mother sighed, clearly having hoped that the story would dissuade Olivia coming to precisely that conclusion.
"The truth can be an ugly thing Detective," Hannah said, sadly, "you think I should tell Casey the truth? How about I tell her the whole truth, that when I found out I was pregnant I actually booked an appointment to get an abortion?"
Olivia's eye widened "oh my god."
Hannah rolled her eyes, "I know, it goes against everything I've ever believed in, but at the time, I was just so… disgusted, and afraid of what was inside of me. I knew it wasn't Josh's. I just wanted to forget about it, I didn't want a constant reminder of what he did to me."
"So why didn't you go through with it?" Olivia asked, trying hard not to choke up. She had often asked herself why her mother hadn't taking that route with her, especially with the level of distain her mother had for her. Sometimes Olivia felt that her mother had only gone through with the pregnancy so that she would have something to take her anger out on.
Hannah shrugged, "when I got back from booking in at the clinic, Josh was acting strange. Giddy almost. He'd been so miserable lately, I thought it was odd. I asked him why he was so happy, and that's when he told me: he'd seen the box for the pregnancy test in the trash. He looked so…hopeful. I couldn't lie to him. I told him I was pregnant. He of course, assumed it was his and was ecstatic. There was no recourse, so, I cancelled my appointment and months later we had Casey and I never looked back."
Olivia didn't know what to say.
AROUND A MONTH LATER
THE SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT BULLPEN, NEW YORK
The squad-room lights were off, but still, before entering, Elliot used his cell to call Captain Cragen's desk phone. There was no way of telling if he was in there, lurking in the dark.
The line rang out, and, satisfied that the department was indeed empty, he snuck inside and made his way to his desk, sinking into his familiar seat which normally found him opposite Liv. He felt a twinge of guilt as he observed the stack of files and copious yellow post-it notes scattered about her desk. He had no doubts that his suspension had resulted in her workload being effectively doubled, and of course, being Olivia she was likely losing sleep over his whereabouts. He'd checked in on his apartment phone voicemail before driving over to the station, and there was a series of messages, going from concerned, to angry and then to desperate in chronological order. But he couldn't let the opportunity pass him by.
A few days ago (just after his suspension) Elliot had received a phone call from one Nicolas Vander, requesting a meeting. Off the books.
Turns out, he had been impressed when he'd heard about Elliot from a seething Hamilton. Naturally, when he'd met with the bastard he'd played up to his assumptions, feigning a barely veiled distain for women and luckily, Vander had been taken in. M.I.T.P. had a worryingly large group of followers who supported their ideals, but it seemed precious few were privy to their sideline in ritual rape and murder. Elliot had made sure that Vander knew he'd be willing to take on a more active role whenever the need arose. Now it was just a question of waiting until Vander trusted him enough to disclose something criminal, then he'd nail the son of a bitch. Then things could go back to normal.
He powered on his computer. There were a few searches he needed to run, on his new 'friends'. Check for priors. He wanted to determine which were the hardcore members, and which ones were just sexist dumb-asses along for the ride.
An hour or so later, research done, Elliot powered his computer off, making sure he left his desk apparently untouched, his Partner was observant, and made his way toward the exit. It didn't matter if any of the uniforms guarding the holding cells saw him. Most of them were completely oblivious to the goings on within the department, they'd never know he was suspended.
As he strode through, he noticed one of the detainees, curled up on the notoriously uncomfortable cell cot, enveloped in a grey blanket. She was facing away from him, but her hair was a striking shade of blonde with a little red mixed in. He smiled to himself. Maybe she and Casey went to the same stylist. He was about to continue toward the exit when the prisoner rolled over, emitting a distinctive sigh.
"Casey?" He said. She looked up at him, her sharp features unmistakable even in the dull light. Her expression morphed from an intense scowl to utter surprise.
"Elliot?" She said, rising to her feet. She crossed the small distance where he stood, only separated from him by the holding cell bars. She wore her favourite sheep print flannel pyjamas, and a pair of slippers. He wasn't sure what confused him more, her presence here, or her choice of outfit.
"What are you doing in here?" Elliot asked.
"Liv arrested me. I didn't want a guard at my house 24/7 so she took it upon herself to haul my ass in on a bullshit assault charge," Casey muttered, "where the hell have you been?"
"Oh, so now we're telling each other where we're going?" Elliot asked. Casey crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. Casey was cute as hell when pissed off, which was lucky for her, since she certainly wasn't a tough person to piss off.
"I've been worried about you," she hissed back, in a tone that suggested it was fortunate she was barred access to him by the wall of metal, "my best guess is you're trying to nail Hamilton to make up for the fact that you assaulting him tanked my case, am I right?"
"Casey, I'm not having an argument with you," Elliot said firmly. He wanted to work things out with Casey, he definitely did. This, however, was not the time, and it sure as hell was not the place.
Casey sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, "fine, can you at least let me out?"
Elliot shook his head ever so slightly, "I'm sorry." Reluctantly, he turned and started to walk away.
"Wait, where are you going?" Casey asked, voice lifting with nerves.
"I'll be back soon, there's something I need to do," Elliot said. He knew he was being infuriatingly ambiguous, but he couldn't risk telling Casey he was working undercover against M.I.T.P. She'd either tell Cragen and get him pulled out, or worse, get herself embroiled in the whole debacle. He definitely couldn't allow that. He reached a hand between the bars, taking one of Casey's in his. She gripped his fingers, pinning him with an imploring look.
"Elliot, whatever you're doing, I know it's dangerous," she said, voice softening, "or stupid, otherwise you'd tell me. So I'm going to ask you to drop it, and come back to my apartment with me. We'll get Hamilton and those assholes eventually."
Elliot released her hand, "sorry, I can't do that." He said, and began his walk down the hall, swiftly focusing on the door ahead to keep the sound of Casey's voice calling after him out of his mind.
ONE WEEK LATER
AN UNDERGROUND FACILITY SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON
"Come on, come on!" Elliot muttered impatiently, foot tapping. On the way back to the exit, he and Olivia had been forced to duck into a room, the pantry by the looks of it, to avoid a couple of Vander's lackey's. Unfortunately, they were presently stopped just outside of said pantry, shooting the breeze, casual as could be whilst Elliot seriously considered whether it would be wrong to shoot them both just to speed things up. Olivia was at his side, pistol held in both hands aimed at the floor, and she too was fidgeting edgily.
"You should have brought Casey with you," Olivia whispered.
"I left her in a safe place," Elliot replied, with a touch of annoyance.
"Those guys have been out there for like ten minutes, if they don't leave soon we're going to have to think of something," Olivia said, eyes darting about the room. Elliot wondered if she thought a tranquilliser gun or invisibility suit would miraculously appear if she only looked hard enough.
Vander circled Casey slowly, self satisfied haughtiness painted all over his features.
They were back in his office, Nick Vander had led her there at gunpoint. Doug had followed, and was presently sat at Vander's desk, he looked woozy, head probably still spinning from the brisk contact with the extinguisher. Casey just stood still, hands cuffed behind her back, hoping Elliot had not been similarly incapacitated.
"You know, there's a lot I could teach you," Vander said, halting from his shark like orbit in front of her, "you would be so much more satisfied in life if you gave in to your female desire to submit to male authority, instead of fighting to usurp us."
"How about if I gave in to my decidedly non-ladylike desire to kick your ass?" Casey asked, "I think that might make me a little more satisfied." Vander rolled his eyes and resumed his circling, stopping directly behind her and laying a swift slap on her ass. She cursed herself for hissing at the sting.
"You know, Doug is a little put out that you clobbered him, would you like me to leave you alone with him?" Vander asked mirthfully. Doug turned around, still rubbing his sore head, narrowing his eyes angrily at Casey.
"No," Casey said. She was dying to spit out another sarcastic rebuttal, but her still aching body protested the idea of going a few rounds with Doug. He wasn't as mountainous as Hamilton, but he could still kick the shit out of her, even is she wasn't restrained.
"I think he'd like an apology," Vander smirked. Doug rose to his feet, coming to stand before her, tottering slightly from the likely concussion she'd provided him with earlier.
When the men finally moved, Elliot hoisted Olivia back onto his shoulder (despite vehement protests), and dashed the short distance to the exit. They were mere metres from escape and Elliot could feel a weight lifting off his chest.
He'd got them all into this mess, but he was about to get them out of it.
The calm that was easing in on him immediately reversed to become panic when he realized the room was empty.
"I left her right here!" Elliot said, pacing about the room, craning his neck to peer behind the metal shelving the room housed.
"What do we do now?" Olivia asked. Elliot had just been considering that himself. He punched a few keys on the computer. The door let out a high, metallic whine and began to lurch open.
"Liv, get out of here," He said, reaching into his pocket, "you'll wind up in the kitchen, the house should be empty. Get outside, my car's in the drive. Get in and wait. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, get the hell out of here."
"You know I'm not gonna do that," Olivia said, matter-of-factly, leaning one hand on the desk between them to take the weight off her injured leg. Elliot sighed. Why were all the women in his life so goddamn stubborn?
"Liv, at least go wait in the car, I'm not leaving you in here, and I'll find Casey faster without you," Elliot said, exasperated. Olivia looked between the exit and Elliot a few times before saying,
"Alright, go get her," and starting to hobble off through the metal vault door.