When I woke the next morning, it was to Alex dressed, her honorary badge hanging around her neck, hair tied back in a pony tail, a black turtle neck and jeans denoting that she was going casual as she leaned over me with a warm, distinctly Cabot smile. "Casey, honey, wake up. Everything's in the car downstairs. Just need you to shower and get dressed. How are you feeling?"

"Better," I mumbled with a groan as I rolled over, my hair and sweatshirt still clinging to me, but my body felt considerably better than it had the night before.

"Good. You scared me last night." Reaching out, she stroked my face. I didn't remember much after she gave me the pills. Everything else seemed to be a combination of nightmares and wakefulness, but I couldn't tell one from the other. "You were burning up, sweetie. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Perhaps," I mumbled. "I think it's just stress."

She kissed me softly. "Alright, Casey. Try not to worry. I know it's not an easy request, but try."

"How do you do it?" I asked, pushing the matted hair from my face. "How are you so calm?"

She pulled my blanket aside and held me against her. "Honey, I'm not calm. I'm scared. I don't want anyone to hurt you in any way, and I don't want them to go after her." I held her, my head resting on her chest as I listened to her heart beating. It was soothing, hearing that which caused her life. My hand crept up her chest, under her shirt, coming to a rest over that beating thing, her skin warm and alive beneath my fingers. Her pulse thrummed steadily against my palm.

"Do we have to go to Colorado?" I asked. Her hands covered mine over the cloth of her turtle neck as she nodded. "Can I formally protest?"

"Sure." She pulled my hand from her shirt and twisted so that she was on the floor, kneeling as she pulled me against her, moving my legs so that she sat between them, her body pressed up against my stomach. The rapid onset tightening and release pains of my muscles from the night before had dissipated with the nightmares and the fever. I'd reached my limit psychologically speaking, and I was just half numb. Holding my hips, she rubbed her thumbs back and forth over the crests of my ilia.

I put my hands on her face and tipped her head up to me so that I could see down into her eyes, and it was like staring into a bottomless pool of color and light even though her eyes were shades of gray. She tipped her lips into my palm, kissing my hand with the same gentleness that she had used to kiss me the night before, as though I were a breaking thing, something that might crumble. And, indeed, she would be right. She spoke into my palm, her mouth free of my flesh just enough that I could hear the poem as she recited it.

"Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say - on yesterday -
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say - on yesterday -
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat - o'erspent with gales -
Retrimmed its masts - redecked its sails -
And shot - exultant on!"

"Emily Dickinson," I said. I never had it memorized, but I had liked that poem as a child. It made me think of a tiny tug boat pushed beneath the onslaught and crashing over the waves one day into someplace so much better. I smiled at her. "Where do you keep the room in your brain for law, Alex?"

She grinned broadly. "It's in there, somewhere." I pushed my fingers through her hair, and she closed her eyes. "I have faith in you, Casey," she said when she opened her eyes again. "I am not like you in that I cannot hold faith to any deity. But, I do have faith in you. You are strong and a survivor and will get through this week. Then, I fully expect you to indulge me with two weeks to pamper and spoil you while you just relax. One day at a time, remember?"

I flashed her a smile. "All you do is pamper and spoil me, Alex," I whispered.

"Then, indulge in a little more, Casey. It is, after all, the holidays." The grin she gave me was so mischievous, weighted with that dark intellect that was so Alexandra Cabot that I threw my head back and laughed. "We will get through today before we worry about tomorrow, love. And, today, we will not concern ourselves with yesterday. Today, that is not our job." Standing, she drew me with her. "Shower. Before we miss our flight and our escorts."

Still laughing, I got in the shower, turning the water on, allowing it to warm up over my body as the spray pushed the sweat from the night before off me, the evidence sinking down the drain. I stared at the drain for a few seconds, the water rushing down, before shrugging. Alex was right. I couldn't change what happened, but that didn't mean I couldn't challenge what might come. If one of the two pulled that stunt, I would deal with it then. There was no other way to do so. Granted, I could also draft a proposal to the New York State legislature for a bill rectifying the situation I was in so that no other woman in the future need go through the same experience. Wasn't that part of seeking justice – preemptively striking so that injustice not be allotted to continue? I thought it was. And, I had always been more focused on justice as opposed to law. Though, that had gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion.

My apartment was empty when I stepped out of the shower and threw a pair of black yoga pants and a gray sweatshirt on. "Alex?" I called as I pulled my damp hair up. I didn't often wear it in a pony tail, but for a three hour flight and two airports, I didn't care what I looked like. Actually, I was much more content to be comfortable. The shower had made me feel better as well.

With no response, I walked into the living room and the kitchen. Still, Alex was gone. I had thought the car was packed – not that either of us had much. I assumed she was taking her entire suitcase, and then, she had packed mine, and I still had only the small green and black one she had given me. A plate on the kitchen counter was laid out with a still warm bagel with cream cheese with what looked like cinnamon sprinkled over the top and fruit cut onto the plate beside it. Alex Cabot and her damn fruit, The note beside it read, Beautiful, eat this. It's not much, but you're going to pass out from starvation soon. Love.

I shook my head at Alex's sense of humor and took a bite of the bagel. There were little chocolate pieces in the bagel, and as I stared at it, I found myself wondering where in the Hell the bagels had come from. I hadn't purchased any the last time I went to the grocery store. Nor had I purchased any cream cheese. Taking another bite, I wound my way into the kitchen to find bowls and utensils hand washed and turned upside down both by the sink and on the stove that told me Alex had probably spent the night cooking. I looked around and finally pulled open the fridge and freezer. Most, if not all, of my containers were in the freezer filled with what looked like different kinds of soups.

"So, I freak out. You cook," I said, taking another bite of the bagel, my stomach suddenly happy to have food, the baby more aware. "No wonder I think you're so calm." I smiled. No wonder Alex liked to spoil. It kept her level headed. There had to be something I could do to keep myself level headed when I started to panic. Usually, I was never calmer than when I was in a courtroom. In that playing field, I could put everything else aside and just do what I did best. But, what about me went beyond the courthouse? I liked softball, and an afternoon at the batting cages was never an afternoon wasted. I looked around the apartment, still nibbling at the bagel, though far more interested in what had transpired as I had slept.

She had finished moving the living room around so that my office space was neatly tucked by the window and set back up. Curious, I padded into Tem's room. The walls were finished, a soft, celery green with neat white trim along the runnners and the doors. Along the wall opposite the window, Alex had painted, in thick, elegant, brown script Temperance just less than halfway down the wall. She had clearly found all of the paint I had bought for the room. Semi-sheer white curtains draped around the name against the wall, hung in such a way that it was obvious the space under the name was meant for a crib. I had initially intended for those to be the curtains for the window, but I liked what she had done instead. In the corner of the room nearest me, she had set the Moses basket on the floor with its teddy and its frog still in the basket, though the other materials stood outside the basket, awaiting the arrival of their respective homes once I ordered them. There was an antique looking set that I had fallen in love with online that I just needed to order and set a delivery day.

The three cream colored framed pictures of a stuffed toy lamb in a room with low daylight streaming through slated blinds hung in a line down the right side of the window, a large stuffed toy lamb sitting on the floor with its head bowed looking sleepy completing the effect. An equally large teddy bear of light tan with a pale pink bow about its neck sat behind the lamb, shiny black eyes looking equally at peace. Tape on the floor indicated where she had thought the dresser, changing table, and rocking chair might go. Beneath where the Moses basket sat, there was also tape, but I couldn't figure out what it was meant to represent. I hadn't planned on more than a crib, dresser, changing table, and rocking chair, and I had already shown Alex exactly what I was ordering. I had figured that the changing table could go as Tem aged, but the other stuff would stay for a while, the crib I had picked out was of a design that altered into something akin to a small bed when one of the railings was removed.

Lips met the back of my neck so softly it was a wonder I felt them at all. I hadn't heard her return to the apartment, though, so I wondered if she had ever left at all. Her kisses trailed down my spine until they reached the small of my back, her body curling up against mine as she kissed me again from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, tracing a cross onto my back. I shuddered. "It's just an idea, but I wanted to surprise you anyway," she whispered into my ear as her arms wrapped around my waist, body flush against mine.

"It's beautiful, Alex," I answered. "I love it. When did you have time for all this?"

"Cream cheese takes four hours to make," she said with that warm smile of hers.

I cupped her hand in mine. "I love you for all that you do, Alex. I just want you to know that I don't expect it of you."

"I know," she murmured, pushing her fingers against mine until I separated mine and she latched hers around mine. Her fingers were both paler and longer which I thought odd because I was paler over all. "I do it because you don't expect it. It's like a surprise every time for you, and it makes me feel so good that I can do that for you."

"I wish I were an easier girlfriend to have." And, I truly did. The amount of crap she put up with from me was amazing. There was no way I was worth the trouble.

Stroking my hair away from my face, she kissed my ear. "I don't. You're just perfect the way you are, Casey."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I lay my head against Alex as I stared out around the airplane at those people I could see, the heads, and the seats. I had taken the isle seat despite the Marshal's protest that he needed to be in the isle. I think describing to him what it would be like if I had a panic attack on the plane made him happy to change his mind and take the window seat, leaving Alex in the middle with me clinging to her leg. The last time I had flown, it had been away from Alex back to New York, and I had been torn and freaked out. This time, I was torn over an entirely different cause and just as freaked out.

Tem had not settled since take off, and the movement was actually causing me further distress, enough that Alex had finally taken my hands in hers and began massaging my fingers and palms. "Casey," she chided softly, "honey, if you don't relax, you're going to give yourself a heart attack before landing."

I turned to look at her. "I don't want to see him, Alex. It's been the most peaceful three months of my life since you shot him. I don't want him to ruin that."

She kissed me very softly. "He won't ruin it, Casey. I'm in your life this time, not him. And, when it's all over and done, no matter what happens, I'll be there." She squeezed my hand. "Now, stop squirming. You look like you have to go pee really bad."

I smirked. "I do." I looked back around the airplane. "I just don't like flying." It was true. I didn't. Airplanes always made me nervous. I didn't know why because they shouldn't have. I had flown on several as a child growing up when my father moved us around depending on his assignment.

"Seriously?" she asked. "How are you planning on getting through a flight to Ireland?"

I shrugged. "I suspect it'll be better when I had something good to look forward to when landing, not something dreadful," I pointed out. "I don't have a phobia of flying, I just don't like it. I already feel sick enough about this whole hearing. Being at this altitude makes me feel sick as well."

Alex shook her head. "So, why can't you walk to the bathroom?"

"I'm afraid that if the plane dips or drops I'll lose it," I said, color rushing to my cheeks.

She gave me an understanding look before unbuckling herself. "Alright, come on. I'll come with you."

I went ever more crimson. The Marshal beside Alex must have heard everything, but he just stared out the window like it was nothing. There I was, heap big prosecutor, defending the little guy, and I couldn't even walk around on an airplane on my own. Yea. I felt very grown up right then. "Alex, I can wait, really."

"There's still an hour and a half left of the flight, Casey. You sure?" When put that way, no, I wasn't sure. Muttering curses under my breath, I stood up.

"We're going to the bathroom, Mike," Alex told the Marshal at her side. He looked at her and nodded. No one actually expected anything bad to happen to us on the flight. It was more the courthouse that I think people were worried about, but I didn't mind the escort. It had made checking in very simple indeed. Mike, who sat beside Alex, had his badge around his neck, firearm at his side. Sonya, who sat behind me in her seat, had her badge around her neck, too. And, of course, my little honorary federal agent had hers strung about her neck – the airline had only asked me for my ID which was part of the point of giving her a badge, apparently. She had an identification as Emily Schimke, but if that name started turning up in New York too much, the concern was that someone might start putting it together, especially if Zapata were concerned that the DA's office might still be pursuing the case – which I was, but passively – then the same woman hanging around me might become a target, and if they found out it was Alexandra, would definitely become a target. We all wanted to avoid that.

Hand at the small of my back, Alex guided me to the bathrooms at the rear of the plane. "Don't leave?" I asked, stepping in to the small lavatory.

A frown crossed her face. "I won't, honey. Leave the door unlocked in case you panic. But, when we get to the hotel, you and I need to have a sit down. There's something going on you're not telling me." I opened my mouth to protest, but she shook her head. "Casey, I can read you better than that."

It was my turn to frown as I used the restroom, the door closed but unlocked. She was right. If I freaked out because of the claustrophobia, she would need to be able to get in to me. I leaned against the makeshift sink, staring into the little mirror. Despite the ample sleep I had gotten the night before, dark circles were almost permanent fixtures around my eyes. Most people thought it was because of the stories I heard with SVU. I thought it was because I was still anemic and dehydrated. I was pasty white and had been for several days. The skin around my nails was peeling and cracked, blood rising to the surface to fill in the holes. My whole body just felt weak. I was tired, and though I had been explaining it away with stress, I wondered if it were entirely a stress reaction or if it had finally compounded into something more – had I stressed myself sick?

I splashed water on my face, my skin instantly feeling dry and shriveled beneath the cool water. Sighing, I ran my fingers through my pony tail and bit my lip. The inside of my mouth was littered with scars from biting myself. I wasn't eating right. As much as I teased her for it, Alex was giving me fruit for cause. Formal culinary training usually involved some of the health benefits to certain foods. She would know my blood sugar was probably on the low end, and the natural sugars in fruit helped boost that. Proteins would be needed, too, and I was shot in the area of vitamin C, another boost fruit could give. Well, the right kinds of fruit, and I had been fed apples and oranges that morning with the bagel. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was using food to try to get me to be healthier, which meant she had an inkling as to the fact that I might be really sick.

Dehydration by itself was bad enough. Coupled with anemia, and things could get squirrely. Not just for me, but for Tem, too. "God, kid," I whispered, "Your momma's really messed up." I was going to get myself hospitalized if I didn't start something to fix myself. I was just to the point where anything I tried to do to fix myself meant that something bad would crop up just as I was beginning to feel confident. I couldn't catch a break, and it was wearing on me.

A knock on the door broke my trance. "Casey, are you okay?" Alex called. I could hear the frown in her voice.

Opening the door, I nodded. "Sorry. I spaced out," I said as I threw the paper towel in the trash and took her hand.

"You look worse now than when you walked in," she said.

"Gee, thanks, Alex. I thought I was beautiful." I rolled my eyes, hiding my smirk by pretending to be angry.

"Casey, you're always beautiful. I just think you're sick." Her hand covered my forehead, but I didn't have a fever. That had come and gone quickly, though I doubted that was entirely because of whatever going away. I may have alleviated the symptoms without fixing the problem by sleeping so much.

I nodded. "I'm anemic," I said with a shrug.

"Okay, Miss Medic. Why the other symptoms, too, then?"

"Dehydration? The flu? A cold? A combination of any of those?" I said as we reclaimed our seats. "I'm not sick enough to go to the doctor, Alex. I'm fine."

"Uh, huh. When we get back to New York, you should see your doctor before I fly you halfway around the world. It's cold in Ireland."

"It's cold in New York, too," I said. "Ireland doesn't have any terrifying memories attached to it, though." I clamped my mouth shut. She had goaded me into saying that, I knew she had. She had that attorney's look of triumph in her eyes, even if it flashed through her for only a heart beat.

"Casey, is it too hard to be in New York?"

I shook my head. "It's too hard to be in my own skin, Alex," I murmured. "Can we talk about this at the hotel? I don't feel like everyone on the plane overhearing." And, by that, I meant the Marshals. She nodded, and I pushed the armrest between us up, leaving my belt off, and scooted as close to her as the small apace would allow.