Chapter Two: Work

Alex

On Monday morning I start at the DA's office, at first surprised by the volume of cases in such a small place. Multnomah County isn't exactly tiny, but it's hardly New York. Still the stack of papers left behind by the former ADA is staggering. Did this man do any work at all before he got sent away? I spend my day trying to get the local squad captain to call me back, missing the days of Don storming into my office to check on a case. If you're worried about my getting attached to this office, I should send you a picture to alleviate your fears. Even my office in New York was nicer than this. And the whole place is so disorganized it's almost impossible to tell one case from another.

By the time I get half the paperwork sorted out it's after nine o'clock and I realize I've probably missed your call. I know you have an early shift tomorrow, so before I leave the office I pop off an email on my ancient computer, and take home three of the files I need to prepare for this week's court dates, hoping desperately I'll be able to brush up on some of the facts before I fall asleep for the night. I don't think I've ever missed our SVU squad so much in my life. And you, especially.

I fall asleep halfway through the second file when I get home, not bothering to eat dinner. I went through the files in chronological order so I feel at least peripherally ready for tomorrow's motion hearing. Hopefully I won't look like a complete idiot. Although don't think I could possibly do worse than the last guy. Most of his notes are illegible, and I swear some of them are just drawings of naked women. In his scribbly script its impossible to tell.

When my alarm goes off in the morning I jump awake, expecting to smell coffee brewing. As I stretch my hand out to your side of the bed I remember that I'm in Oregon, and suddenly I wonder why on earth I switched from corporate consultation back to prosecution. I'm already nervous about this week's cases. And there won't be anyone waiting for me to talk to when I get home. No arms to fall into. No dinner cooking on the stove. Just me, and this huge house, and a phone to connect me to you.

I spend most of the day in court, fending off some of the most ridiculous motions I've ever heard, and thanking Judge Petrovsky for making me fight so much to keep evidence over and over and over. I know how to argue against a suppression like no one else. I get all of my evidence into trial and stay late in the office getting ready for the jury. The case is fairly simple, and I don't foresee any problems, but I'm surprisingly nervous at the idea of standing in front of a jury again. I wonder if I'll still be able to tell when I've won. It's going to be strange, if I win-- when I win, not to have you to come home to. You always had the silliest celebrations when I won. Cakes or cookies, when you were drinking we had champagne too. After you quit it was sparkling cider. I wonder if I'll feel like celebrating if I win. I'm not sure if it'll have the same ring to it when I'm not with you.

I sigh and look over the testimony written up on my desk. I take off my glasses and scrub at my eyes. It's going to be a long night. I could probably go home but I want to be sure I'm ready. It's nearly ten before I finally close the file, and head home for the night, a little concerned that I didn't have a call from you earlier.

Olivia

Before I have a chance to talk to the guys, Elliot and I get called out to a scene. Not pretty, but nothing new. Rape out on a ho-row by the bridge. Looks pretty standard, Casey should have a ball trying to get anything out of the witness, a tranny with a spotty history. This week's arguments should be fun. Since you left though, Casey's been a little easier to live with. I'm not sure if it's because she's been distracted by Serena's incessant desire to move to D.C., or if she feels guilty about the way she treated both of us that last week you were here. Either way, she seems a little more patient with the squad, and the SVU/ADA relationship has settled into a more patient cycle. The other day she even invited me to lunch. Although I spent most of it listening to her stress about Serena, it's hard for me to sympathize since it's not as if she's leaving Casey for the opposite side of the country.

I keep hoping maybe Casey will go with her, but it appears that the real tension lies in Novak's desire to stay in New York. I wish I could transfer some of her rooted-ness to you, maybe then you'd come back, instead of signing up for a job that puts more time between us. I do understand why you want to do this. I do, really.

I pull myself back to the task at hand as Elliot grabs his badge and gun, pitching the phone back into its cradle.

"Let's go. Suicide attempt in Brooklyn we gotta go."

"Why are they calling us?"

"Evidently they can't get her to put down the knife, she keeps saying she was raped, and won't let anybody near her."

"Dammit."

By the time we get to the scene there's a group of officers huddled outside an apartment complex. I flash my badge and approach the one who looks most in charge.

"Benson, SVU. What've you got?"

"Girl in 5C's got a knife, threatening to kill herself. She's already cut herself a coupla times, when Officer Jackson tried to approach her she started screaming about being raped. She won't let anybody past the door of the apartment. Last time one of my guys tried she nearly opened a vein."

"You pushed her?"

"Look, Detective, I got almost an entire squad fulla guys tryin to calm this chick down. Why do you think we finally called you?"

"Key problem Officer, is 'squad fulla guys.' She's a rape victim. You know anything about your job?"

"Yeah, I know enough to know when something becomes your job."

Officer Malcom gestures to his guys and they start filing into cars, anxious to get away from "my job." I turn to roll my eyes at Elliot as he finishes talking to another uniform.

"Apparently she's still up there, she let the landlady get close to her once, but guys freak her out. This one's yours Liv, sorry. Says the girl's name is Kaylie Sawyer"

"Get a statement from the landlady, I'll get her calmed down so we can sort this out."

The apartment is a mess, and I'm assuming that the perp left this wake of damage behind him. There's a smallish, pudgy girl pacing back and forth over torn magazines and littered mail. She looks nervous and terrified and she's already bleeding from more cuts than I can count as she marches around her appointment, muttering to herself.

"Miss…. Sawyer? Kaylie?"

At my voice the girl whips around to face me, holding the point of the knife against her wrist.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me don't touch me. I have to get them out."

"Kaylie, my name is Detective Benson, and I heard you had some problems last night. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not even going to touch you, but can I come in and talk to you for a minute?"

She resumes her pacing, talking and gesturing with the knife in her right hand. I take the opportunity to step over the threshold, watching carefully to see her reaction, not wanting to push this too far. She pauses, looks at me, and then resumes pacing. I step all the way into the apartment as Elliot comes up behind me. I wave him away, and the slowly approach Kaylie, trying to talk the knife out of her hands.