A/N: So... my first venture into SVU territory. I hope you guys like it. It's a little different than anything I've written before, since I haven't written with an original character as one of the main characters. And I've never written in dialect before. I tried to stay as in character as best I could. This is, of course, Casey-centric, since she kicks butt, but the other characters will have a role in the story. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated... as are reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Casey Novak or any other characters you recognize from the show. I just own the plotline, Jack O'Brian, and any other characters that aren't familiar.

Chapter 1

Mulroney's Bar
425 W. 34th Street

A blast of loud music hit Jack O'Brian full-force in the chest as he walked into the bar. He waved at a couple of his guys in the corner, who were trying unsuccessfully to pick up a girl by the pool tables. They would do just about anything for him—literally anything. It had taken him years to work his way up in their organization, and he was proud of it. Proud of the way they trusted him.

He sauntered over to the bar and slid onto one of the stools. He shot a quick grin at the bartender, who slid him a glass of Guinness's best. Jack smiled at him gratefully and lifted his glass to his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a large, muscular shape slide into the seat next to him. "Whiskey, on the rocks," a deep, bass voice rumbled in his ear.

"Took ya long enough," Jack said as he sipped his beer.

"You know how traffic is this time a' day," the man said, his soft Irish brogue evident, and he sipped his own drink. He set the glass down and faced Jack, a grin spreading across his face. "So, boyo… what did'ya have to talk to me about?"

Jack swiveled in his chair. "Did you have to get the kid, too, Connor?"

Connor furrowed his brow, and a dangerous look appeared in his eyes. "And just who are you to be questionin' my methods?"

"It's dangerous, Connor. The cops don't like it when kids are the victims."

"And just how did ya come about this bit o' information?"

"Let's just say I have my sources." Jack narrowed his blue eyes. "I hope you made damn sure it wasn't traceable back to us."

Connor narrowed his own blue eyes. He downed his whiskey, grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, and stepped close to Jack. "I'd worry about meself, lad. Especially once Sullivan finds out you talked to me about this. In public."

Jack chuckled. "See, that's where you're wrong, Connor. Sullivan trusts me implicitly. You know that, and I know that. You're good, but you're expendable." He sipped his beer. "I'm not."

Connor chuckled too. "See, that's where you're wrong, boyo. Everyone is expendable." He tossed a couple of dollars onto the bar and disappeared out the door.

Jack hated to admit it, but he was right. Despite all his hard work, in this line of business, everyone was expendable. Sullivan wouldn't think twice about ousting someone that could cause him collateral damage. He pushed a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. Some days he didn't even recognize his own reflection. He had changed so much in the past three years.

That was when he saw her.

She seated herself at the end of the bar, pushing back a stray reddish-blonde lock from her pretty face. Jack heard her order a beer, and he grinned to himself. A girl with taste. Rare these days. He swiveled his chair around so he could study her more closely. She was dressed in a classy business suit; a green blouse that brought out the color of her eyes with a jacket that showed off her slim figure. Her hair was pinned back in a bun behind her head, at the nape of her neck. Her face was tired, as if she'd labored over something incredibly difficult and taxing.

In that moment, Jack decided that she must have been the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He motioned toward the bartender to lean down and talk quietly with him. "Who's the girl?" he asked in a quiet voice.

The bartender jerked his head toward the girl at the end of the counter. "Her?" At Jack's affirming nod, he grinned. "You've got good taste, son. She comes in here every once in a while. Don't know exactly who she is, but she always sits down there, and she always orders one glass of beer before leaving."

Jack nodded his thanks, and the bartender moved to the other end. He chugged the last quarter of the glass and stood. A small smile graced his face as he saw the girl look over at him. Gaining confidence by the second, he stepped over to her and smiled at her with the most charming smile he could muster. "Hello," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled back. "Hello," she replied.

"Anyone sitting here?" He motioned toward the barstool next to her.

She shook her head, another red strand of hair falling into her face. "Please, sit." As Jack sat down next to her, she put out her hand for him to shake. "Casey Novak."

Jack smiled and took the proffered hand. "Jack O'Brian. It's a pleasure to meet you, Casey."

Casey smiled at him. It had been a while since a guy had tried to pick her up in a bar. She knew enough from her job to not actually go with him, but he was good-looking and seemed charming. "So, Jack," she said smoothly, sipping her beer. "Come here often?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I do." He gestured toward the opposite wall of the bar. "I live not far from here. I hear you come here every once in a while."

She chuckled. "You've been asking about me."

"Well, when a guy sees a pretty girl alone in a bar, he gets a little curious."

"Well, when a girl sees a fairly good-looking guy alone a bar, she wants to know exactly what his intentions are when he comes over to hit on her."

Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. "No bad intentions. I just wanted to get to know you a little better."

"But you admit you're hitting on me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "Maybe."

Casey laughed. "At least you're honest."

"I try."

She took another sip of her beer and turned to face Jack. "So, Jack, what exactly do you do for a living?"

His smile faltered for a second, but in the blink of an eye it was back on his face. "I'm in security."

"For a company?"

"No, private security." Jack didn't like where this line of questioning was going. This was a classy lady, and he certainly didn't want her knowing exactly what it was that he did. "And what about you? You seem intelligent, classy, sophisticated…"

Casey laughed again. "I doubt my parents would agree with the last two, especially when they see me covered in dirt from softball games. I'm a lawyer." She was careful not to tell people exactly what she did. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of the scum she put in prison, but guys were sometimes turned off by her line of work on the first meeting.

"A lawyer?" Jack grinned. "Seems to me I've heard more than one joke about lawyers…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Save it. I've heard 'em all."

"I believe you."

A shrill ring sounded through the bar, and Casey groaned. She pulled out her phone and checked the caller I.D. "Duty calls," she said apologetically as she flipped it open. "Novak… yeah… okay, I'll be there." She slipped the phone back into her purse and shot a rueful smile at Jack.

He held up a hand. "I know. You have to go." He shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

Jack shook his head and smiled. "It's no big deal. Besides, you'll come back again sometime, right?"

Casey stood and grabbed a couple of dollars out of her purse. "If you're here, I just might consider it." She made a move to throw the money on the bar, but Jack placed his hand on her arm.

"I'll take care of it. You go save the world." He grinned at her, and Casey returned his grin before she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door.

Casey couldn't seem to stop smiling as she drove toward the Lower East Side. She couldn't help thinking how sad it was that she was happy some random guy was hitting on her in a bar, but she was happy about it nonetheless. She had to remind herself to stay aloof for a while, at least until she could figure him out. She'd seen plenty of good-looking, charming guys just like him that turned out to be rapists or serial killers. If this job had taught her anything, it was to be cautious.

But even in being cautious, she couldn't ignore the fact that her skin still tingled from his touch.

She pulled up behind a couple of marked police cars, their red and blue lights dancing off her windshield in a fantastic light display. She quickly exited the car, slamming the door behind her, and made her way toward the yellow tape marking the crime scene. Finally she spotted a pair of familiar faces making their way toward her. "So you actually call me out to crime scenes, now, huh?"

Detective Elliot Stabler shot her a quick grin. "Well, we figured you're gonna show up anyway. Might as well beat you to the punch."

Casey rolled her eyes at him as his partner, Detective Olivia Benson, lifted the tape to let their ADA slip under. "Cute, Detective. Really cute."

He grinned and turned on his heel, leading the two women toward the mass of uniformed officers and CSU techs about a hundred yards away, in the middle of a small garden. Casey didn't even notice Olivia quietly catch up to her and match her pace. "So," Olivia started quietly, her voice making Casey jump. "You must have had a good night."

The younger woman glanced at her friend, startled. "What makes you say that?"

Olivia laughed. "Case, I'm a woman. I know these things." She prodded her friend with her elbow. "So, who's the guy?"

Casey sighed. "I don't know."

"Well, he sure made an impression on you. Where'd you meet him?"

"At a bar."

"And?"

"And nothing." Casey stopped, and Olivia stopped with her. "Liv, he was a nice guy, and we'll just have to see."

Olivia shook her head and smiled at Casey. "Okay, okay. But if something goes down…"

"You'll be the first to know." Casey grinned at her and put her hand on Olivia's arm. "I promise."

"Excuse me, ladies." They turned to see Elliot standing a few yard off, arms folded in front of him. "I don't know about you two, but I'd really like to do my job."

They rolled their eyes simultaneously and joined him. Casey's smile quickly disappeared as she saw the three bodies lying twisted and very dead on the cold ground. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Not another one."

The crime scene was horrifically familiar to the detectives and prosecutor. The bodies were covered in blood. Olivia bent down next to the smallest body—a little boy. "I hate it when kids are involved."

"You and me both," Elliot added. He walked around Olivia to stand next to Casey. "Warner says COD is a single stab wound to the chest. And the woman was raped." He picked up a wallet lying next to the dead man. "Michael Callahan. Lives in Yonkers."

"Just like the Harris case." Casey sighed. "You know what this means."

Olivia stood up and crossed her arms in front of her. "We've got the wrong guy in jail."

"And I'll have to let him go." Casey shook her head. "I hate it when we're wrong."

"Detectives!" A CSU tech rushed up to them, holding a plastic bag in his hand. "Found this about twenty yards from the body." He handed the bag to Elliot.

Elliot held the bag up to the light emanating from the street lamp nearby. "It's a coin. Definitely not U.S. mint. There's something written on it."

Olivia reached out for the bag, and Elliot handed it over. She squinted to read the tiny print. "Eire."

"It's an Irish farthing," Casey piped up. "I visited Ireland when I was in college."

"What's an Irish coin doing next to the body?" Elliot asked, his brow furrowed.

Suddenly Casey's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "I remember a case like this. I read about it in the paper. A family was murdered in Boston in the same exact way, single stab wound to the chest." She looked Elliot in the eye. "This wasn't random. This was a hit."

So... you guys interested? Hit that little button!