Chapter title: The Secrets That We Keep
Pairing: C/O friendship and somewhat C/"original character"
Publish date: 3/17/06
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Notes: Spoilerish for "Runaway."
The story title is from the Guster song "Diane."

Everyone in the Special Victims Unit has a secret. Well, perhaps secret isn't the best word. Everyone has something in their past they don't talk about. We may know the basics, but it is never actually described to us in detail. Not that I want someone to tell me all their painful memories – but I'd gladly listen if they sought me out. Everyone thinks their personal tragedy is the worst, and perhaps it is, because it's theirs, and it's so real to them and right there under the surface. And usually it stays hidden because the secret-keeper is too afraid of the emotions that would accompany it, of what would happen. And even if they say they'll forget about it, put it out of their mind, they still think about it every day, because it's part of their soul.

Olivia bared her soul to me, once. That night at the bar when she told me about her mother. That was the first and only glimpse I've gotten of her past, of what makes her tick. Since then our talks have been work related or just casual chit-chat. I had been so shocked she was sharing such intimate details with me that I didn't know what to say. I'm sure whatever I did say came out wrong and too harsh. That's what happens when I try to sound sympathetic. I've never been one to offer comfort – mainly because I've never been in a situation where I need to – or accept it. I was raised in a family of boys and was practically expected to behave like one. If I cried, it would be alone in my room with the lights out and my comforter over my head. I grew up learning to hide my emotions, and that is part of the reason why I decided to become a lawyer.

I was always good at keeping my emotions in check, until the Lauren Westley case. There was something about it that made me uncomfortable, something that hit too close to home. But I didn't dwell on it because I knew my emotions would get the better of me, and I needed to remain the stoic ADA that everyone seemed to hate. I wouldn't be able to do my job as effectively if I had emotional ties to the cases. But then a few months later, we had another self-abortion case and that really threw me through a loop. I put on my best poker face and by the grace of God I made it through the trial. I was shocked when we won because I didn't remember anything I said, any arguments, nothing. Everything was a blur. When I heard "guilty" from the foreman and Judge Petrovsky let us go, I nearly leapt over the divider and ran out of the courtroom. I stopped in my office briefly to pick some things up before heading home. I changed into pajamas, turned off the lights, and settled on my couch with a bottle of Pinot. Just as I was about to allow myself to acknowledge these suppressed thoughts and emotions, my buzzer went off.

I didn't want company. I was so used to wallowing in solitude that it felt weird to break tradition. I just wanted to cry alone in the darkness of my apartment. But the buzzing was persistent, so I went to my call box.

"Yeah?"

"Casey, its Olivia. Will you buzz me up?"

"Olivia, I'm really not in the mood for company right now."

"I brought dinner. Take out."

"Olivia, I-"

She cut me off. "Hey, I bought dinner. At least let me eat with you and then I'll leave, if that's what you really want."

I sighed. I buzzed her in and unlocked the door, then went back to the couch. By the time she got to my apartment, I had convinced myself I did want company, and perhaps talking to someone about my inner demons wouldn't be such a bad thing. I didn't want to dump this in Olivia's lap without any warning, though. If she asked, I'd tell. If she didn't, I wouldn't.

I was too exhausted to move when she arrived. She flipped on the lights, and the sudden brightness hurt my eyes. I kept my eyes closed as she set the food on my coffee table and went to get plates, moving around my kitchen like she had been there several times before. When she came back she studied me in silence before sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"You look really worn out, Casey," she said, setting the plates next to the food. "Maybe I shouldn't stay. I'll just stick these in the fridge and you can go to bed."

"No!" I said, perhaps too eagerly. I cleared my throat to cover it. "No, stay. I'd actually like a little company. I get kinda lonely sometimes, you know?" I didn't realize how much I wanted – and needed – someone to talk to until I had it. Kind of like how you don't miss something until it's gone, except the other way around.

"Yeah. I got a dog a few years ago to help with that, but he ran away after a few months. He's probably better off on his own."

I smiled. For a few minutes we ate in silence. I hadn't realized how hungry I had been. I hadn't had much of an appetite for the duration of the trial, and I knew I had lost weight. It felt good to eat.

I avoided looking at Olivia, but I knew she was staring at me. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze – nobody likes to be the object of scrutiny. Finally, I looked up. I could see the questions clouding her eyes.

"Is everything okay, Casey?" she asked softly. I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't know if she meant just in general or if she could see past my strong façade and wanted to know something deeper. So I just shrugged. "We've been a little worried about you."

I tried to hold back a snort of laughter. Not that I was disdainful of their concern, but the fact that there had been any in the first place. I started to pour another glass of wine for myself, but Olivia took both the bottle and the glass away. I was a little irritated – who was she to monitor my drinking?

"Casey, don't drown your problems in alcohol. Please. Even if they go away for a little bit, they'll still be there when you sober up. And if you keep turning to alcohol to solve your problems – well, I don't want you to go down that road." She was almost pleading with me, and I remembered what she told me about her mother. I didn't want to be labeled as the person who drank away all her problems, so I nodded.

"So, you said everyone has been worried? Why?"

Olivia leaned forward. "Why? Casey, you've practically been a zombie the past couple of weeks. Your mind has been somewhere else from the start of this case. You tried to cover it up but, frankly, you did a really shitty job about it. We just didn't know how to approach you. We didn't want you to feel like we were ganging up on you. You've lost weight, you're pale…"

"I'm always pale," I reminded her.

She smiled and continued. "And especially today, when you bolted out of the courtroom so fast after the verdict, I knew something was up. Something has been eating at you."

I shook my head. "No, it's too much to dump on you tonight. And you only came over for dinner, anyway."

"Dinner was just an added bonus. I could tell you haven't eaten much lately. I really came over to see if you were okay."

"No, you hear terrible stories day in and day out. Let's just have a normal conversation," I stalled.

"Clearly, you aren't," she said, stepping over my words. My mouth was open in protest, but no words came out. She was right, I really wasn't okay. "You don't have to confide in me, I'll understand. But just know that you can talk to me. You're my friend, and I'm here when you need me."

I wanted so much to tell her, but I was terrified of revealing my secret to her – to anyone, for that matter. But at the same time, I had reached the point in my life where I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. Nobody knew. Only me, my boyfriend, the doctor, and God. I had never shared this piece of information with anyone, even though it made up a big chunk of my past.

Before the Westley case it had been a thought at the back of my head, something I knew was there, but never acknowledged – never wanted to – but now it was a constant reminder. It's kind of like pain – sometimes it will go away for awhile if you don't think about it. But, eventually, it will come back, and sometimes it hurts even more. I felt like some part of me was begging to let it out, but I was afraid. It was starting to eat away at me. But I was too ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone. That time in my life was still so vivid and painful, I wasn't sure if I was ready to relive it. I also didn't want Olivia to see me differently, as less of a person. I respected her too much to lose whatever traces of friendship we had. Yet she had already seen me at my weakest, when I was attacked my office. The thing is, we were still on uneven ground and I didn't want to scare her away. But I needed a friend. I had been without a close one for so long my solitude was starting to get to me. I needed someone to talk to and someone to listen.

I had to tell someone tonight. I was more afraid of what would happen if I didn't than if I did, worried I'd retreat into myself and I wouldn't be able to do my job or move on with my life. I had been pushing it away for too long. I figured the embarrassment of telling Olivia, as hard as it might be, wouldn't be as bad as the possibility of losing my job and career. And I guess I knew in the back of my mind that Olivia, of all people, would be the last person to judge me. I knew I could trust her. So I wrapped my blanket around me and clutched a pillow to my stomach and spilled my soul to Olivia.