Friday morning came all too quickly for my tastes, though I suppose it did mean that I got through Wednesday and Thursday just fine. Maybe not just fine. Maybe I was a spazz and lonely. But, I survived. I didn't think I was going to die, but I wasn't sure what really missing Alexandra Cabot would feel like. All I came away with was that it didn't feel good. It didn't feel like heart break, but it didn't feel great. Wednesday night, I'd had a nightmare that David had been released from ADMAX and hunted not me, but Alex. When he found her, he had brought her to me and made me watch as he killed her, then cut her body to pieces. Somehow, dismemberment didn't strike me as David's style, but SVU was taking its toll on my imagination. Thursday night, I had taken a sleeping pill, so my sleep was wonderfully without any kind of dream. Over all, though, Thursday had been easier to bear thanks to Alex thinking ahead.

A flower delivery service had brought over a dozen red roses and three white ones early in the morning between me arriving and me going to court. The timing was perfect, but of course, Alex knew that. The card had read 'Good morning, Beautiful.' Without a signed name, I knew who the flowers were from. Without a card, I think it would have been obvious it was from her, anyway, unless some creeper was stalking me. Then, I might have issues. This, however, was not the time or the place to have that problem. I might cry. I had buried my face into the flowers almost as soon as I had signed for them. They not only looked positively delicious, their fragrance was quick to fill my office so that all day, I had DDAs and paralegals asking me if I had a boyfriend. I had been vague enough that some of the older DDAs had asked if it was puppy love implying that despite being almost thirty, I was young. I disagreed with the implication, but I somehow just doubted that with Alex this was puppy love.

Even better was that that afternoon, Agent James Davies had brought a small cardboard box into my office. Apparently, Alex's charm worked better on him than her demands because he actually seemed happy to act as errand boy. And, he wanted to see what was inside the box. I obliged his delivery efforts by opening the cardboard box in front of him only to discover another, smaller box inside. This one was wrapped in an antique-blue wrapping paper and tied with a silver ribbon. "When did she give this to you?" I asked.

"Before she left. She asked me to wait thirty hours to bring it to you." He looked at his watch. I looked at mine. I guess she wanted it here after lunch. "She's a very specific woman." I nodded, too eager to speak as I carefully opened the package and lifted the lid. Inside was an antique silver locket, and I pulled it out gingerly between my fingers. The front was decorated with a rose and vine wreath inscribed with 'Io non sono mai senza di te.' Beneath the locket was a small card. I recognized the handwriting of that of my predecessor and lover.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones,
as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
J'espère que tu es toujours heureuse. Je t'aime, ma belle Casey.

"What does it say?" Davies asked, his voice quite as though he wasn't sure if he was invited to know.

I handed him the card. "I hope you are always happy. I love you, my beautiful Casey," I recited. He handed the card back with a fond smile and I returned it to the box. I held the locket carefully in my hands. It was a true antique, and I found that fascinating. Alex had not explained where it had come from, so I was left to speculate on whether she had found it at some antique store or if it had been passed to her by a friend or family. I also wondered if she knew the script on the front was Italian and that it meant 'I am never without you.' It was poetic, heart warming.

Unsure how steady the hinges were, I opened the latch carefully. Inside were two images. The one on the door of the locket was Alex, bright-eyed and mid-laugh. Whomever had caught the image was either talented or lucky. The other was fuzzy and difficult to make out at first, but I recognized it after a moment, my hand coiling automatically over my stomach. Alex had included a cut out from a sonogram, shrunk down so that once I knew what I was looking at, I could tell that Kiwi was sucking her thumb. I ran my finger so very lightly over both pictures, each protected by a thin plastic coat, before clasping the locket around my neck. The chain was long enough that the pictures themselves were twice protected: once by the silver safe that kept them, twice by the press of my cleavage as the trinket nestled by my rapidly beating heart.

And, it was that locket which I held gingerly between my fingers the morning after as I stood before my bathroom mirror Friday morning, waiting for Olivia to call and let me know she was outside. Either she or Fin had picked me up every morning to take me to work, true to their word in helping me to avoid the subway. I appreciated it greatly, and for their extra effort in being great people in general, I had gotten them each Starbucks gift cards to help start the flow of caffeine. Fin swore he wouldn't use his because Starbucks was too effeminate – that wasn't the word he used, but the implication was the same. Still, I had seen the empty cups in his squad car. I just wasn't going to tease him about it.

As if by thinking about her, that drew her to me, my phone rang. "Novak," I answered, purely out of habit though the only person calling my cell this early would be Olivia or Fin. Everyone else called the house line, and I still had one of those. This morning, it ought to have been Olivia unless she caught a case over night and was working on it already.

"Hey. I'm outside," Olivia replied.

I let the locket fall beneath my blouse and moved my hair to cover the chain. The locket was larger than the tiny ones found in stores any more. It was made for a time when pictures weren't digital and one had to stand for a long time for the film to capture the image. That said, the chain was somewhat larger and the trinket weighed heavy at my bosom. "Thanks, Liv," I said as I grabbed my jacket off my bed. "I'm headed down their now." Hanging up, I slid my phone into my back pocket and grabbed my briefcase before trotting over to the elevator.

Olivia handed me a cup of something hot as I slid into the passenger seat of the squad car. It smelled suspiciously of chocolate and peppermint. I smiled. "You know, Liv, I don't give you Starbucks gift cards to get me cocoa. They're for you," I teased, though I was grateful.

She pulled a cup from between her knees as though proving that she had, indeed, gotten herself a cup of coffee. "I got me something, too. Besides, Casey, how else am I going to spend a hundred dollars at Starbucks?"

"Good point," I said with a shrug.

"You doing okay?" Olivia asked me as we pulled back into traffic.

Finishing my sip of wonderfully warm hot chocolate, I nodded. "Mmhm," I answered, setting the cup between my legs. "Why do you ask?" Not that it was an entirely unusual question, but it had been a while since she had asked me that.

Olivia shrugged. "You have a coffee date today with potential adoptive fathers. And, your moods have been everywhere the past couple of days. I can't figure out if one's related to the other or if something else strange is going on with you, Casey."

Blinking, I stared out the window. "I haven't pissed anyone off, have I?"

"Just a defense attorney, but I've never seen you go like that. Do you remember?"

I shook my head. "Did he at least have it coming?"

Olivia nodded. "Oh, yeah. You thought about getting an fMRI or something about your time loss to make sure it's not a head injury that went unnoticed?"

"Sort of. I have an appointment Monday morning with the rape crisis and recovery center in Midtown. Hopefully, I can get myself set up with a counselor who is comfortable addressing sexual assault. I'd like to rule out a psychological reaction first since most of my missing time is in high stress or trauma situations."

Olivia nodded as though she agreed with my personal assessment. In all honesty, I would have called her a hypocrite if she had pressed anything else since she was the one who initially suggested I start with counseling.

"If I can stay out of those tiny machines, anyway, I'm one happy gal."

"Fair enough. In fact, that's pretty together of you, Casey. I'm proud."

"I soul searched this weekend," I said with a shrug. Her brows rose as if in question. "I learned a lot about me."

"Good. It's about time you did." She gave me a grin that made me so grateful we had gotten past my initial faux pas with the detectives and our hurdles as two very independent women clashing in the same work environment – and the whole me not being Alex thing.

"Mm," I grunted as Olivia stopped. "Baby loves chocolate. Give me your hand. It's a brand new trick she's been perfecting this week." Obediently, the detective gave me her hand, and I opened it flat, pressing the palm against my stomach beneath my blouse. I took another sip of the chocolate and felt a few quiet seconds later the hard kick I was becoming accustomed to feeling. The kid went nuts over chocolate, especially. "Feel that?"

"Yea," Olivia said, her eyes distant as she pulled her hand away from my skin. "That's amazing. I – That's the coolest thing ever." I laughed, resting my hand on my belly. I couldn't believe I was two days shy of seventeen weeks and looked so far from pregnant it wasn't even funny. And, yet, otherwise, the baby seemed to be right on track.

I looked over at Olivia, her eyes still somewhere else. "Have you ever thought about adopting?" I asked, suddenly realizing how much she seemed to want to be a mother. It had never really come up in conversation, but it was so obvious from the angle I saw her at now. She was such a protector and instantly went to children. And, children trusted her to protect them. I had a feeling Olivia would lay down her life for the safety of a child.

"With my work schedule, that's not possible," she said with a sad smile. "There would need to be a second parent or permanent live-in nanny in case I got called in to work."

"Would that be so unreasonable?"

"So out of budget, Novak."

I rolled my eyes. "That sucks. I'm sorry, Liv. One day, you'll make a great mom."

"I hope."

Pointing at my stomach, I said, "You wanna give it a shot now?" I was evidently teasing her, so I wasn't worried about her being shocked. And, to my delight, she laughed. My brother, Marcus, always said I could have made it a comedian. I was too often too serious, much like the rest of my family, but I had always been the first one to start cracking jokes, except when my mother was involved. Then, things just went from south to Hell in a heartbeat. I couldn't disarm my mother because I didn't know how to stand up to her. I even got out of punishment as a child from my father and older brother because they couldn't keep a straight face to tell me 'no.'

Olivia stayed at the court house with me even though she wasn't sitting advisement on the case in question. Realistically, it was just a hearing, but damn it if the defense attorney didn't want to draw out the hearing as long as possible. I think arguing with the judge lost him a lot of standing ground on his motion, and, admittedly, he didn't have much to begin with. Throwing out a legitimate police investigation was absurd, but I guess he wasn't doing his job if he wasn't trying.

Finally, though, I had to open my mouth and question if the defense's tactic of filing every motion in the book wasn't holding up his trial unnecessarily and distressing the victim only more and more. Not only that, but I tacitly implied that the judge ought to be offended at the waste of the court's time. The judge was savvy to my subtleties, but he seemed to have agreed long before I opened my mouth. The end result was that he forced the defense and I to set a date for trial within a month.

"I've got trial starting on the second," I said, hand on my hip as I looked through my day planner. "That's been scheduled out four days. So, any time the third or fifth week of December work? I'm thinking we'll need time as permitted by statute to get subpoenas expedited and notices out to potential jurors that they had jury duty." I looked at opposing counsel. He, too, was busy pouring through his trial book. We all lived by them, no matter what side we were on.

"Your honor, I can do the fifth week. If we start Monday and project trial to Friday?"

"Five days?" I asked, raising a brow. "I was thinking more like three. Prosecution expects to take a day. Voir dire should take three quarter's a day. If we set for Monday, I'll be done Tuesday at noon. Unless defense expects cross to go longer than the norm?"

I looked at my opposition. "Not expects, your honor, just preparing for the worst."

The judge looked to me. I shrugged. "Fair enough, your honor. Defense makes a valid point." I wasn't going to argue. If we slated for five days and it only took three, then there were two days no one expected to be open. It didn't kill me. I could finish other paperwork during those two days.

"It's settled, then. This trial has been set for December 29, 2003 with voir dire to begin at eight am. Keep in mind, Counsel, this court will be closed January first in observance of the holiday." Code for – everyone getting hangovers and not going to work. "That makes trial that week a four day trial. Should we docket until Monday?"

I shook my head. "No, your honor. I think Friday should be fine."

Defense, surprisingly, agreed. "Four days should cover it. I would hate to keep a juror's mind over the weekend if we could avoid it."

Hearing complete, I looked behind me to where Olivia was still sitting. She offered a soft smile and a head nod. I returned the nod. I waited until the defendant and his counsel had moved towards the door before I followed close behind them. Olivia stood and met me mid-stride. "You attorneys argue over everything."

"I'll stipulate to that," I murmured, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. "You detectives investigate everything, even things that shouldn't be. Why shouldn't I argue over things that are best left alone?" Olivia snickered. "Besides, it's a lawyer thing, but I've got the ego for it."

"I'll stipulate to that," Olivia murmured earning herself a playful punch. I had all brothers. Punching was what we did. She was a woman in a man's job – she was accustomed to it.

I shifted the binder in one arm to the other. "I'm kind of nervous," I said.

"Why?"

"This whole coffee thing. Besides, it's starting to creep me out that my kid won't be raised by me. I don't know why, just remnants of childhood, I guess."

Olivia looked at me a little strangely as we came upon the elevators. "I don't quite understand," she said in that voice that told me that yes, she understood just fine. She was making sure what she thought she understood was really what I was saying.

"I guess it's my parents' ideal talking, not the Catholic faith. My parents told my brothers that if they made the choice to have sex and their partner wound up pregnant, they better damn well expect to support the child emotionally, financially, and physically. My mother kind of just hoped I would never have sex – I think it freaked her out too much. My father was more realistic, but he was pretty stern on the fact that I would raise the baby."

"But, you didn't chose to have sex."

I shrugged. "That's not how my parents would see it."

"How would you see it?"

Staring at her as we waited the slowly moving elevator, I thought about that. It wasn't until the doors were firmly closed behind us that I realized I had an answer. "I'm afraid to let someone else raise her. What if they do it wrong?"

"Do you think you're her best option?"

"God, no. I'm her worst."

"Do you love her?"

"Of course." I had said that so quickly I hadn't really processed it. It was obvious that I loved this child, I thought, but it seemed odd to admit to it, especially knowing I was giving her up. Though, I had told Olivia I loved the kid before. I wondered why it was so different a feeling this time. Then, I thought about Alex's lips just centimeters from my belly and the fluttering sensations in my stomach and the way the baby kicked out so Alex had felt it. And, I thought about that morning when Olivia had felt her move. I thought about how careful I was to ensure her health and future. And, oh shit. "Fuck."

"What?"

I put my head in my heads and shook my head. "It's bad, Olivia. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck."

"I think maybe you should cancel this meeting. Give yourself a few days to sort this out, but, Casey, sort it out because if you're going to adopt her to this family, they'll need to know. And, if you're going to adopt her, but not to this family, you'll need to get looking again." She stopped, regarding me quietly as we stood before the court house. "And, if you're not going to adopt, you need to think about that, too, because you're going to need time to prepare."

Pulling out my phone with shaky hands, I called Andrew. I got his voice mail and left him a brief message. It was a lie, but it worked. I told him I got caught up in a hearing and asked if they could meet the upcoming Sunday for coffee and apologizing profusely. Hanging up, I decided two things. The first was that I was going to church on Sunday morning. I might not worship in the Catholic faith, but if God heard all prayers, maybe He would answer mine.

For the second, I looked at Olivia. "I need a shot."

She nodded. "I would, too."