Chapter One: Nobody Gets You but Me

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Casey Novak let out a startled squeak, much to her ego's dismay, before her fingers relaxed their grip on the folders they'd been holding.

"Really? Really Elliot?" she groaned, stooping down to retrieve the folders that thankfully had not spit out any loose papers.

Detective Elliot Stabler was sprawled out, making himself perfectly at home in her chair, feet up on her cluttered desk, hands behind his head, as he sat there, contemplating the world.

Her world.

He was so annoying.

She narrowed her eyes at him before slamming her office door and tossing her beloved Burberry trench coat across one of the visitors' chairs in front of her desk. Groaning, she frowned at the mountainous stack of case files he was unceremoniously using as an ottoman before bending down to gather up medley of dossiers, trial records, and disposition notes fanned about the floor.

"I need that warrant, Casey."

She stood up and dusted her slacks, adding the freshly stacked folders to the overwhelming mound at his feet. "No, Elliot, what you need is information used to establish facts in a legal investigation or admissible as testimony in court—evidence: it's your friend. Oh, and get your narrow ass outta my chair."

An arrogant smirk tugged at his slips. "You've done more with less."

" 'Less' implies there was something there to begin with."

Groaning, he reached over and plucked one of the double 5x10 frames from their corner on her desk and held it up, "What if it were one your kids that was missing?"

Casey looked into the faces of her two children—Robin: all wayward dark curls and impish green eyes. Rafe: too confident and pretty for his own good— before snatching their recent school pictures and returning the frame back to its proper place. "Wow. When pathos doesn't work, you exploit my maternal instincts. If this overzealous detective gig fails, you'd make a great ambulance chaser."

He rolled his eyes and let out a deep, imploring sigh, "Work with me, Novak!"

"I'm doing the best I can, Elliot," she said, bringing her eyes to the clock on the wall beside him. She paled. "Shit!"

He frowned. "What?"

She seemed to have missed the question. Hurricane Casey touched down on ADA Novak's desk, shoving files into her briefcase and supplies back into their proper places. Mumbling several obscenities to herself, Casey moved around her desk and practically catapulted out the door.

Elliot had to run to catch up. "What just happened?"

"It's what's not happening," she didn't slow down. The two of them must've made an interesting sight, the ADA and the detective flying down the hallway like speed racer on—well, speed—in the direction of the elevators.

"Okay..." he arched his eyebrow again, stepping into the freshly opened elevator doors. "Care to share?"

"Robin," she started between breaths as she leaned into the lift's cool, brass wall. "She's on her school's Math League team. It's her first contest on the sixth grade squad and I promised I'd root for her. I should've been there by now."

"I could give you a ride. The school's on the—what?—West Side, right? I'll get you there in ten minutes, tops."

She smiled. "Thanks, but Chester's meeting me there. We're taking the kids out for celebratory Cajun. Rafe's a sucker for Shrimp Etouffee."

"Chester? Since when did you and Lake get serious?"

Her face froze defensively. "Since when are you interested?"

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "At ease, Counselor. Just making conversation."

"You don't know how to 'just make conversation'."

"Hey, I'm just worried about the squad...you know, dynamics and everything."

"Oh, come on. You all of people shouldn't be lecturing me about conflict of interest. Especially since you and Benson generate enough sexual tension to power the entire borough..."

He smirked. "We aren't talking about me."

"The holier-than-thou rarely offer up their own faults."

"Untighten your butt, Novak. I'm not judging you. I'm just concerned, that's all."

She gave him a once over. "Don't be. Chester's great. The kids like him...well, Robin does anyway. He's charming, he's funny, he puts the seat down..."

"Yeah...so I'm no longer interested..." he grimaced theatrically. "However, that warrant..."

She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. He was persistent, she'd give the arrogant son of a bitch that. "Fine. I'll do the best I can with what I got, but if I get laughed out of Petrovsky's chambers I'm turning your balls into pâté."

He chuckled. "Deal."

The ride ended and the doors opened, spitting them into the harsh arms of Manhattan's winter chill. They both stepped out and lingered in the lobby, an awkward silence seizing their tongues.

Casey was the first to speak. "I really am going to get that warrant."

He nodded, kicking at invisible dust as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "I know. Hey Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Always."

She offered him a final smile before leaving the courthouse.

"Would you stop pacing? You're giving me a headache," eleven-year-old Jason Clohessy shouted when he could tolerate his best friend's incessant marching no more. He crammed his hands in his pockets of his khakis as Robin Novak-Burnham stopped in her tracks and glared at him.

"I can't help it," the ten year old groaned out as she crossed the room to join him. "It helps me focus."

"That's the problem," he lowered himself down onto the hardwood floor, taking her sticky palm and pulling her down with him. "You concentrate on the wrong stuff and you end up freaking yourself out. Don't worry, your mom'll show up."

"So she says," she murmured.

"Well at least the rest of your family's here."

She stood up and gingerly parted the curtains, poking her head out to survey the audience. There, in the front row were her father's parents—Rafferty and Hillary Burnham—her stereotypically proud waspy grandparents. She scanned the rest of Midgley Day School's auditorium, combing the sea of faces for her mother's. All she could find was her fourteen year-old brother nestled way in the back by the entrance, his uniform blazer unbuttoned and his white shirt rebelliously untucked, his obnoxiously pretty face leaning dangerously close to a blonde junior from the upper school.

"How does he do it?" Jason crooned.

"Not all girls fall for the rebel without a clue act, you know."

"Hey, I don't need all the girls. Two will tide me over 'til puberty."

"You can be such a boy sometimes."

"It must suck having a brother that's prettier than you."

She socked him in the arm and pushed him away from the curtain. "I manage."

"Man you're deadly when you're anxious," he rubbed the sore epicenter of the impact and poked out his bottom lip. "Besides, didn't you say your mom was brining her new boyfriend? That sounds pretty solid to me."

"Yeah, but he's a cop in her unit. What if they both got called in?"

"I'm gonna need you to stop worrying, okay? Everything's fine. You know these equations like that back of your hand. So what if your Mom doesn't show? Yeah it'll suck, but you're not alone. You have me."

She smiled weakly. "Thanks Jase."

"You'd both feel better if you just kissed and got it over with!"

The two friends whirled around to find Brandon Clohessy, Jason's cousin and school's resident asshole, grinning rascally at them from the doorframe. He eased further into the room, his customary self-satisfying smirk lifting the left corner of his lips.

"Screw you, Clohessy," Robin rolled her eyes and groaned, wiggling out of Jason's arms.

"You wish," Brandon inched closer into her personal space.

"You're so gross," she wrinkled her nose and shoved him away.

"What do you want, anyway?"

The twelve year old flashed his exasperated cousin a toothy grin. "Me?" he shrugged. "I'm just the messenger. Mrs. McDermott's gathering the nerd herd in the hallway for some dweeb-tastic words of encouragement. You should hurry, you need all the help you can get. I'll even walk you."

"Thanks but no thanks, Clohessy," she jostled him aside and headed for the door. Stopping short of opening it, she offered the Clohessy cousins a final saucy smirk. "Thanks for the pep talk, Jace."

With a hard glare at Robin's receding frame, Brandon balled up his chest and hawked up a loogie.

Jason glowered at the attractive medley of mucus and spittle before smacking his repulsive relative upside the head. "Idiot."

"I hate her."

"Yeah," Jason smirked at him incredulously. "That's it."

"Get stuffed," he shoved him and trudged away in search of another target.

Gliding on a gust of wind, her Louboutins gnawing at her feet, Casey blew through the hallways of Midgley Day, frantically trying to find the auditorium and a way not to add to mass of disappointment plaguing her relationship with her kids. She flew down the stairs—fifteen thousand dollars a year worth of tuition and the elevators were out of order? Really?—and managed to make it half way down the wall when...

Smack.

Right there, barely ten yards away from her destination, renowned Assistant District Attorney was sprawled out on the shiny linoleum, the contents of her briefcase and dignity spewed out in front of her.

"Casey? Casey, are you okay?"

She clamped her eyes shut and pressed her nose against the cold floor, the embarrassment reddening her cheeks and rendering her vocal cords useless.

"Laugh and you die," she said more to the floor than to Chester Lake.

An instinctive chuckle slipped out, though he stifled it when she lashed him with a green death ray. He held up his hands in mock surrender and flashed his pearly whites. Without further ado, he bent down and chivalrously hauled her to her feet, careful not to be too gallant for fear of further pissing her off.

Then, to make matters worse, the water works started. A gushing faucet, hot droplets of unforgivably cringeworthy emotion sliding down her face like searing oil.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he grabbed her shoulders, trying to follow her wandering eyes. "What's wrong?"

"What's not?" she scoffed.

He tilted his head.

"I'm a bad mother."

To her chagrin he laughed.

He actually laughed at her.

Asshole!

"Really Chester?" she angrily swiped at her eyes and shrugged away his touch.

"Hey, no—no, no, come on, hey don't walk way," he pulled her back. Gingerly, he thumbed away her tears and swept a stubborn red strand away from her face. "I just...it's not funny...it's...it's ridiculous...come on Casey, where'd you get that idea?"

"Oh...gee...where do I begin? My kids are practically raising themselves. When they're not getting home on their own, doing homework on their own, cooking on their own—their grandparents are doing all the work. Charlie's parents go to all the baseball games, the science fairs, the pancake breakfasts, their grandmother's even on the steering committee. And you know what? On the off chance I get a break from saving other people's children...when I can actually come see one of my kids do something they love, I show up late."

"Casey, come on..."

"No, the best part," she laughed bitterly. "The best part is I chalk it up to being a single mother and what do you know? That's my fault too. I drove Charlie away. I pushed him too hard. I should've let him seek treatment at his own pace. I shouldn't have used our kids as a bargaining chip to bully him into therapy. Then when that didn't work, I kicked him to the curb."

"You did what you had to do for Rafe and Robin. You did what you had to do for your own sanity. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Tell that to Charlie's parents. Face it Chester, I suck as a mother. I suck at relationships. You're either a glutton for punishment or out of options. Either way, I really wouldn't blame you if you ran out the door."

"If anyone's a glutton for punishment, it's you. What's up with this obsession with guilt?"

"I wouldn't call it an obsession..."

"Okay, but you're only human. You're an amazing mother. You couldn't have predicted what happened with Charlie. You love those kids and you do the best you can with what you've got. You did the best with Charlie. That's all anyone could ever ask of you."

"You could give Huang a run for his money."

Rolling his eyes, he bent down and quickly whisked her stray files back into the safety of her briefcase. Leaning in, he gave her a quick peck on the check and led her by the hand toward the auditorium without a word about her lovely little nosedive.

Quick note: This chapter's title is borrowed from the Spoon song of the same name.

Also, regarding reviews: It's not my style to hold my story hostage if I don't get "x number of reviews", but I will say that I appreciate feedback of all forms. Complements or critique, I'd love to hear from you.

Thanks for reading.

Next up: Rafe gets lines. :)