SORRY! We lost internet service and I couldn't update anything! But now I'm back!

Sean: .

Just so you know, the discussions that Casey's students have will often be based on discussions that we had in MY ninth grade English class and my classmates responses. Personally, I found them ignorant and easily offensive to some people- and I know how stuck up that sounds but its true- so I'll be using them in here. I'm just saying this so you know I don't believe any of those views and take offense.

Chapter 4

Los Angeles

Glendale High School

April 30th

8: 30 am

Casey scrubbed the sleep from her eyes as she kept grading papers while her students worked on group projects. 'I never thought I'd say this, but I miss paperwork'. Casey chuckled softly at the thought- but, at least when she had been a lawyer, the paperwork was about things that actually mattered! This mess... it was all the same thing, over and over and over- trying to decipher messy handwriting. At least the majority of the 'Speak' test she had given had been multiple choice, but the last question had been an essay question- one that she really wished had been taken off. Because the question was, 'Was it Melinda's fault that she was raped? Explain.'

In her time as a ADA for the Special Victims Unit, she had learned one basic rule that was true for every case- it is never the rape victims fault, not under any circumstances.

In the book, a girl had gone to a party, the month before her freshman year. She dressed... well, like a hooker. But Casey had worked with many actual hookers who had been raped, and it didn't matter, it still wasn't their fault.

So, she thought as she began reading the first kid's answer, maybe this will be good for me. Maybe it'll help me... maybe it'll be like Olivia's here, telling me it's not my fault.

How very wrong she was.

The first answer was this: Melinda went to the party dressed like a whore because she wanted to get a date. If a man saw her dressed like that, well, he should naturally assume that she wants sex. So, yes, it is her fault she was raped. Andy Evans should have listened to her when she told him to stop, but still, dressed the way she did... she was inviting anyone and everyone to have sex with her. And maybe Andy Evans thought she liked rough sex, there was no way he could of known she didn't want it. So, in conclusion, because she dressed like she wanted it, it is her fault she was raped, and the conclusion that Melinda reached at the end of the book- that it wasn't her fault- was false.

Casey stared at the paper in shock, then found herself struggling against the tears coming to her eyes. 'No, no, no, not here, not now, please, god, not now...' Casey swallowed back the upcoming sob and forced herself to put the paper aside. Maybe the other ones were better. Maybe the other answers would be what she wanted- Olivia in disguise, telling her that it wasn't her fault.

By the time Casey finally dragged herself out to her car at the end of the day, she was hanging her head in despair and her heart was heavy with shame. Of course it was her fault. Olivia would tell her differently, but it was her fault. Every single one of those responses she had read all said it was her fault. Every single god damn one. Of course it was all her fault. She had fought back against him, but she should have known it was a bad idea. She aggravated him, she made him rape her. All her fault.

She wasn't crying now. She had just given up. Because Casey couldn't take it. She had been violently raped, and afterwards, all she wanted was Olivia to rush up and be her knight in shining armor, to save her from all the pain and the humiliation and the shame. But she wakes up miles away from her lover with a man there telling her that's all over now, that her past life is gone and everybody thinks she's dead, and it's time to start over. And here, no one comforts her. Everyone tells her its her fault. All her god damn fault.

"Its probably good Olivia thinks I'm dead," she mumbled to herself as she turned the key in her brand new, FBI-purchased car. "She's better off without me." Casey doubled over in tears, gripping the steering wheel so tightly it hurt. "God, I miss her so much!"

And, over and over, she kept seeing those words on paper, written a hundred different ways, its your fault, its your fault, its all your fault...

Well, Olivia wasn't coming back to make all the pain go away. And Casey knew how to make it go away. She'd heard victim after victim describe to her how self-harming took the pain away. How it made them feel better. Before, she had tried to convince them to stop. Now, though... anything to make this stop. Anything.

And when she got home and the doorman greeted her as 'Ms. Bell', it only made her want to hurt herself more.

How was she supposed to heal from a rape that was all her fault? How was she supposed to get better when she couldn't get back to who she was before it, because that person was dead?

She couldn't. And that was perfect. Casey Novak had been raped- but the FBI had given her a new identity. And Olivia Bell wasn't a rape victim.

'So why are you cutting yourself?' A cold voice in her head snapped as Casey frantically searched for a knife.

"Because I can," she growled back as she finally forced the blade into her arm. Scarlet blood blossomed out from her pale skin, and it looked beautiful. Nothing else hurt. Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

She cut herself deeper, and as more blood flowed, she felt a touch guilty- Olivia would have never, ever wanted her to hurt herself. After a particularly difficult case, where a teenage victim had bled to death from of the cuts she had made, Olivia had made her promise to never hurt herself. Olivia had made her promise that Casey would always come to her, no matter what.

But she couldn't keep that promise. Not now. "I'm Olivia Bell, not Casey Novak," she mumbled aloud, and the fact that Olivia Bell was so close to Olivia Benson made her heart ache again.

It was even worse that Casey knew Olivia's heart would break if she could see her right now. That made her feel like there was something that she should deal with, but Casey couldn't admit that. No, no, no, she hadn't been raped, that was Casey Novak. But the FBI had given her a brand new identity now, and Casey Novak was dead. And just in time, too, just two days after she'd been raped.

So as she sank the knife deeper into her skin, she was laughing and crying at the same time. Laughing because she had sidestepped dealing with being raped, crying because, in her heart, she knew it wasn't true.

New York

Casey Novak's Apartment

May 30th

9: 00 am

"Olivia..." Elliot said slowly, passing a tired hands over his eyes. "You have to get everything out of here or it'll be thrown out on the street. Rent's due in two days and the landlord was nice enough letting us stay here for the month..."

"I know," she said, more tears running down her cheeks. But she didn't want to leave. This place... she and Casey had done so much together here. That couch was where they had had their first kiss. It was where they had shared many smiles and laughs as they watched TV and ate dinner together. That bedroom was where they had first made love, where Olivia had often encircled Casey in her arms after a nightmare or Olivia fallen into Casey's embrace after waking up screaming. This is where they had first said 'I love you'.

And now that was all gone.

"Olivia..." Elliot said softly as he approached her. "Anything you want to keep, I'll help you carry it out right now and to your apartment, or if you want to get a new place I'll carry it there. But we only have two days, and..."

"I want to take all of it, Elliot!" Olivia exclaimed, whirling around desperately to face him. She hated that she was crying again, but she couldn't help it. "I want every single last thing here! I want all the memories back, I don't want to forget her! I want to hold her again, I want to kiss her again, I want to talk and laugh with her again- I want her back!" By the end she was screaming, pounding her fists furiously on his chest as she kept crying until she was spent.

Elliot, who was, by now, used to these sorts of outbursts, just wrapped his arms around her and let her hide her face in his chest. "Shh," he murmured, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Shh..."

New York

FBI safe house

June 1st

11: 30am

"Clear!" Olivia called to Elliot as she lowered her gun after searching through the last room.

"Damn it..." Elliot muttered as he walked forward. "He should be here right now... he must have heard we were coming and bailed."

Olivia nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Well, let's go ahead and start collecting evidence." The two started walking around the room, snapping photographs and putting things in evidence bags, hoping to find something to prove to their new ADA that this was their rapist.

Olivia groaned as she thought of their new ADA, Toni Walker. Annoying, stuck up rookie. Didn't know a damn thing but thought she was the smartest girl on the planet.

Olivia knew she had to be being a bit unfair to Toni- god, she had hated Casey at first, after she had replaced Alex. But, honestly, she just couldn't see her ever getting to be good friends with the new ADA... but at least she was short, tan, and brunette. Not tall, pale, and a redhead... not a tall, pale, gorgeous redhead who had taken a hold of her heart and wouldn't let go.

"So..." Elliot said to break the silence. "How did last night go?"

Olivia just groaned again, unwilling to answer his question. Last night had been her first alone in her own apartment, instead of with Elliot in Casey's. Well, with practically all of Casey's stuff in her apartment, she couldn't call it her own anymore.

"Fine," she said coldly without looking up from the papers she was sorting through. "It went

absolutely, positively fine."

"Well, that was convincing," Elliot said as he put down the box he was holding to look up at his partner in concern.

The next few seconds were a whirl of action and blood. Elliot saw the man approaching silently with the gun and whipped out his, and in a hail of gunfire, one detective and one criminal went down, leaving one standing in the aftermath.

"Olivia!"

Los Angeles

Olivia Bell's apartment

June 1st

11: 30 pm

Casey let her eyes wander over to her computer again, knowing what was calling her, then finally just gave up and practically sprinted for the laptop.

Almost every night, she would go online to New York news sites, looking for any signs of Olivia. She had to know, more then anything else, that she was okay. She had to know that the woman she loved more than anything in the world was okay.

Always, her worries were unfounded. Always, always, always. Never any mention of Olivia in the news. But then she would wonder if perhaps Olivia had been, God forbid, killed, and it just wasn't in the news, and she would sit by the phone and dial half of the precinct's number and just stare at it for hours, never getting the courage to make the call. Because she was terrified of what they would think if they ever found out she was alive- how betrayed they would be, how much it would hurt Olivia, and... and... they couldn't know she was raped. Casey didn't want them to know. They couldn't ever, ever find out. They couldn't ever know her secret shame, her hidden past, because then her life would be over. She wouldn't be able to stand them knowing how weak she'd been... what'd she let happen...

But, the top headline on the website was 'SVU detective injured in shoot out'.

Casey screamed and jolted back from the computer, staring at in horror. All at once, her worst nightmare coming true. No no no no no not Olivia no! No!

Casey immediately got up and dashed for her door, knowing what exactly what she had to do. She couldn't care less about Talyor Smith, she wouldn't give a damn about SVU finding out she wasn't dead, she had to know Olivia was alive. She had to know her lover was okay or she wouldn't be able to function.

Unfortunately- or, one could say fortunately- her hopes were immediately dashed when a fierce pain clenched itself in the pit of her stomach. She sank to her knees, letting out a strangled cry through her gritted teeth and clutching her stomach. God, she wanted to keep walking so much, but the pain in her stomach was so bad, it almost made her pass out. "Oh, god," she gasped, pounding her fist on the ground as she let out another scream.

A man rushed from his apartment at the sound of her pained cries, and when he touched her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting, she gave a shout of terror and tried to pull back, but the pain immobilized her. The man mistook it for another cry of pain and left his hand where it was. She felt the familiar hot, prickly sensation begin underneath his hand and start to spread and she had to hold back another shout.

"Ma'am?" he asked, and when she didn't reply he got out his cell phone and said, "Please, just stay calm. I'm calling an ambulance right now."

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