Dirty Little Secret

Olivia watched in silence, arms crossed as well as she could considering the fact that she had a cast on her wrist, as John Munch attempted to navigate her kitchen. He'd been nice enough to drive her home when she'd been released from the hospital, but now he was becoming annoying.

"John, go back to work," she called, moving so that her feet were on the floor. She slowly pushed herself up into a standing position, ignoring the nagging pain in her ribs. He turned and looked at her as she slowly began making her way into the kitchen.

"Liv, you need to rest…" he began.

"I spent the last three days in the hospital resting. I'll be fine, okay? Just go, I'm sure Cragen needs you for something," she told him. He looked down at the pot and can of soup he was holding.

"At least let me make you some lunch," he tried.

"I'm really not hungry, John. I'm just going to go take a nap," she told him. She turned and began slowly walking towards her bedroom. He watched in silence, before setting down the pot and can on the counter.

"I'll leave it out for you, okay?"

"Fine. Thanks, John," she said, walking into her room and closing the door. He turned and left the apartment, knowing she would be pissed if he didn't.

1234567890

Olivia stared around her bedroom, not wanting to get out of the bed. She was comfortable for the moment, and she knew that as soon as she tried to move she would wish she hadn't. But she had work to do. She wasn't going to let a few rib fractures keep her from doing her job. So, instead of resting, as her doctor had told her to do, she got up and began the slow process of getting ready for work.

After what seemed like forever, she was finally ready to go. She called for a cab, knowing Elliot would never come pick her up. He was stubborn, but she could be even more so.

1234567890

Elliot let himself in the front door of Olivia's building, knowing exactly what she was planning. They'd been partners for eight years… he knew her better than he knew his social security number. But he also had another reason for coming. Trevor Langan had plead not guilty, which Casey had neglected to mention until the day before. So now he was the one who had to break the bad news to Olivia… she had to testify against him. Casey was working on a plea agreement, but from what she said it wasn't going very well. If it ended up in trial, Olivia's testimony would be the deciding factor.

He stopped at Olivia's apartment door and knocked. It only took her a moment to open the door, so he knew that he had been correct in his assumption that she would try to go to work anyway.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, forcing a smile.

"You came to pick me up?"

"Not exactly," he replied. "Let's go inside." He motioned into the apartment. Without a word, Olivia turned and began making her way back to her couch. Elliot followed, shutting the door behind him. When they were both finally seated, Olivia looked up at him expectantly.

"What's so bad that Cragen sent you all the way out here to tell me?" she asked.

"Langan plead not guilty. Casey's working on a deal, but so far he's not buying," Elliot told her. She nodded.

"Okay. But that still doesn't explain why you're all the way out here when you're supposed to be working," she replied.

"Liv, you know that IAB is investigating, right?" he asked. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"I figured they might."

"There are people in the brass who want you out of SVU."

"What's Cragen saying?" she asked.

"Not too much that I'm willing to repeat," he said, garnering a half-hearted smile. Olivia got up and went over to the kitchen counter. She lifted her gun and stared at it for a moment, before bringing it back to the couch. "Here." She held it out to him by the barrel, allowing him to take the handle.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I can't shoot with a broken arm. Besides, I don't want IAB to have anything against me," she told him.

"You had it when he attacked you?" Elliot asked, somewhat shocked.

"Yeah. And I didn't use it," she replied.

"Why not? You could have stopped him…"

"And lost my badge in the process? Not an option," she said. He just nodded, still amazed that she'd had the self control to not shoot Trevor Langan. "Besides, I was out before I had the chance to pull it."

1234567890

Casey Novak walked into the room and looked at Trevor Langan, sitting across the table in his blue orange jumpsuit. "Casey. Can't say it's a surprise," he said, smiling.

"Can it. Did you think about the deal?" she asked.

"Can't say that I have. I don't know, that's still a lot of time," he replied. "If that's the only offer, I'd rather take my chances with a jury."

"You're pretty cocky, considering that your victim is not only alive, but remembers everything," Casey replied.

"In case you're forgetting, Detective Benson is a rather… unstable woman."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Casey asked. As far as she was concerned, he didn't have a leg to stand on.

"From what I hear, she's gotten even worse than that partner of hers… I have it on good authority that she didn't do so well on a psych evaluation recently," he said, leaning back in his chair. He put his feet up on the table and laced his fingers behind his head. "Mommy issues."

"Which has absolutely nothing to do with this case," she replied. She sat down in the chair across from him.

"Oh, but it does. All I have to prove is that she's an - pardon the phrase - 'attention whore.'"

"You have no proof of that, nor can you prove anything about that psych evaluation. It's confidential, only IAB has access to it," Casey reminded him. "And if I so much as hear that you've got a copy, I'll report you to the ethics committee. Not that it'll matter… the trouble you're already in is enough to have you thrown out of the bar."