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hannahbarberra162 · 6 months ago

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Snow Fall, Part 3 (Alpha Izou x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI |

The other chapters

Thank you to @gouraminnow for beta-ing <3

The little Omega had settled into life on the Moby much faster than Izou had expected. After bringing you on board, you stood at Izou’s side and bowed parallel to the ship’s deck. Izou’s face was impassive as he sought his Captain’s approval for your presence on the ship, but his heart filled with pride at your display of courage. He’d seen grown men quake and quiver before Whitebeard but you never wavered.

“Captain, this is Tasuke. She is originally from Wano but I have rescued her from the island at which we are docked,” Izou said with a stiff bow of his own. He was speaking with more formality than he usually did but he was worried Oyaji might not allow you to remain. Oyaji wasn’t generally in favor of Omegas being on board due to the numerous Alphas on the crew. Izou hoped Whitebeard would allow it but he might have to plead his case.

Whitebeard looked over at the island, the majority of which was now ablaze thanks to a pleased looking Ace who was happily munching a rack of meat and watching the destruction. “Is her rescue reason some of the island is now on fire?” Whitebeard asked, glancing again as a fireball blew up into the sky, making Ace cheer.

“Yes,” Izou stated simply. “Though not all of it has been destroyed,” he added as an afterthought. He didn’t think Ace blew up the entire island, just most of it. In Izou’s opinion they deserved it for aiding and abetting your slavery. Whitebeard grunted to show his disinterest in the fate of the island. Izou’s many years of service under Whitebeard had granted him certain privileges and not being questioned about some of his decisions was one of them. If Izou had let Ace off his leash, Whitebeard trusted that it was for good reason.

“Is she an Omega?” Whitebeard asked as he stared at the small woman in front of him. Izou shouldn’t have been surprised Whitebeard could detect your designation even with your nearly undetectable scent - Whitebeard had a preternatural knowledge of many things, including people’s designations without smelling them or being told.

“She is,” Izou stated, hoping that it didn’t mean he would have to leave you at the next island. Whitebeard was a pirate, but he was honest and fair in a way that aligned with a strong moral code. He wouldn’t have made you remain on the island Izou had rescued you from but it wasn’t a guarantee that you’d be able to remain on the ship.

“Does she speak Common?” he asked as Taskue straightened but kept her face averted from the Captain. Izou put his hand on the small of your back in a tacit show of support.

“Not much. She knows a handful of Common phrases but I believe she was purposefully kept ignorant in order to maintain her in a perpetual state of servitude,” Izou explained to his Captain. Whitebeard looked you over before inclining his head ever so slightly.

“ It is a pleasure to meet you, child, ” Whitebeard intoned in Wanese. You blinked a few times trying to hide your surprise at the Emperor’s knowledge of your language.

“ Thank you for allowing me on your ship, Emperor,” you replied, bowing even deeper.

“Are you staying with us?” Whitebeard asked, tilting his head slightly in question. The gesture was typical of Wanese conversation and Izou wondered when Whitebeard had picked it up since Izou had never explicitly taught it to him.

“Ah, I’m not - I’m - whatever you wish, Emperor,” you replied, your head still bowed.

“Enjoy your time aboard my ship, child,” Whitebeard replied, effectively dismissing both you and Izou. Izou took your smaller hand in his own and led you away from Oyaji and back towards the bow of the ship. You walked with your back straight but it was difficult to have an audience with Oyaji if you weren’t used to it and you’d have a comedown soon. Leading you under the deck, Izou brought you towards the kitchens. The ovens ran at all hours of the day and night to accommodate the enormous crew, so you could warm up while you got accustomed to the ship.

“I think that went well,” Izou said, offering you a hot mug of tea that was conveniently located close to Izou’s favorite seat. He’d have to thank Thatch later for the thoughtful gesture and anticipating your needs. You nodded and accepted the tea, sipping slowly. The Alpha in him was pleased to see you accepting his help, but the man knew it was only a cup of tea. He wanted to provide so much more, and he would in due time. “Whitebeard is allowing you to stay as long as you’d like,” Izou explained as you blew on the hot tea. You hummed a response but didn’t say anything directly. You just experienced a significant change in your life and Izou wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

“How does Whitebeard speak such excellent Wanese?” you asked, holding the warm mug in both hands as you huddled over yourself. Izou wanted to pick you up and deposit you on his lap to warm you, but refrained in the presence of others. Izou reached for the tea pot and a mug to pour himself a cup of jasmine tea as well. However, you grabbed the handle before he could and poured him a mug, handing it to him before he could stop you. Izou sniffed for a note of fear or insecurity in your scent, but your eyes were still focused on him. It must have been muscle memory that had you to serving him without thinking about your actions. Maybe he should tell Ace to burn the entire island.

“Kazuki Oden taught him during Oden’s time on the crew. After that, we became conversation partners here and there as time allowed,” Izou explained, your eyes going wide.

“Were you here at the same time as Oden? On the crew?” you asked excitedly, setting your cup down. Cute, Izou thought to himself. He set his own mug down and put his chin on his hand.

“Mmh. I joined with him, in fact. I was his retainer, I followed him from Wano,” Izou said, watching your eyes fill with stars and your face turn red. You looked down at your hands, unable to look at his face any longer. Izou laughed lightly and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Do not apologize for whatever it is you feel that you have done inadequately. I am the same Alpha I was five minutes ago,” he stated, watching your blush rise up to your ears.

“I just…you - you’re - thank you Alp - Izou,” you said, bowing your head down to the table.

After Whitebeard had given his blessing, things had gone rather swimmingly by Izou’s estimation. His room was one of the larger Commander cabins, large enough for two people to live rather comfortably. You initially insisted on sleeping on the floor but Izou hadn’t allowed it for a single moment. The two of you shared the same bed, much to Izou’s delight, though you both kept your clothes on. He suspected by the way you jumped at loud sounds and the hunched manner you carried yourself that you would need time for your body and mind to internalize that you were safe, even if you thought it already. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to - every fiber of his being desperately wanted to roll you onto your stomach and take you like an animal - but he maintained his self control.

You’d become very busy on the ship, very quickly. As Izou had anticipated, Thatch gladly accepted your expertise in the kitchen. Despite not speaking much Common, the kitchen was a place where communication could easily be understood by miming techniques and showing ingredients. Your Common vocabulary exploded as the fourth division taught you the names of utensils, tools, vegetables and fruits, and other cooking related terminology. You adapted to being a line chef well and didn’t need much training in the dishes that the crew favored.

Izou started spending a little more time in the kitchens as his schedule allowed, watching you work and interact with the fourth division. You were kind, patient, and eager to learn anything anyone would teach you. Izou tried to give you space to stand on your own but it was hard when you looked so cute in your apron, listening and nodding when Thatch was teaching you something new. Thatch had begun to rib him now that he was in the kitchens frequently, which Izou took in stride. He’d style his hair like Thatch’s if it meant that he could watch you work.

To everyone’s delight, you also began cooking Wanese food for the crew. At first it was just for Izou - smaller dishes that you’d present to him personally at meal time. You’d bring him te dishes and scurry off, watching him eat from behind the galley door to see if he liked the food. He always did and insisted you sit with him for a few moments each meal so he could compliment the food - and the chef - personally.

Soon there was a lot of interest in the traditional Wanese dishes you were bringing him, to the point where Izou was lucky to get two or three mouthfuls before his brothers were each coming to “try a sample.” Ace quickly conned his way into getting his own plate of your dishes, making you smile in delight as he inhaled everything you gave him. Izou knew how he overcame the language barrier - it was those sweet puppy dog eyes and cute freckles that made you sympathetic to his eternally hungry stomach. Ace was too young and not emotionally ready for an Omega but the thought of the younger Alpha honing in on his Omega made Izou want to stab the young Commander - and not with a fork.

Eventually Thatch and Izou were able to convince you to share your recipes so they could be multiplied many times over for the crew to enjoy. You were hesitant, unsure that the crew would like the food, but Izou’s gentle coaxing had you showing Thatch how to make kiritanpo and helping set up a massive amount of imoni for the crew to enjoy.

After the crew ate, Izou and Thatch had each and every one of the ingrates come up and thank you personally. Izou stood next to you as everyone expressed how thankful they were for the food you had given them while allowing you to partially obscure yourself behind him. He could only imagine how overwhelming it was to hear hundreds of thank you’s in a language you didn’t understand but it was important for the crew to respect you for the work you provided. It didn’t hurt that every one of the crew would see you clinging to Izou’s arm as they thanked you, further detracting any competition from the crew’s many alphas.

Izou soon discovered that there was a softer side to your presence on board as well. As an Omega, you had a natural instinct to want to care for others and provide comfort. Izou never insisted that you take care of anything or anyone, but one morning you came to him, gripping your lacquer comb in your hand as he read over his daily reports before heading to work.

“Ah, Izou. I was, ah…wondering…I wa - may I, um, mayIpleasecombyourhair?” you said in one big rush with a bow, gripping the comb so hard Izou thought it would crack. Izou had been reading on the couch in his room, running his fingers through the hair that was draped on one of his shoulders. Setting down the reports gently, he considered the smaller Omega standing submissively before him.

“Of course,” he said simply, making room on the couch for you to sit. You sat down behind him slowly and he felt his long hair being pushed behind his shoulders to rest against his back. You began combing his hair and Izou feigned nonchalance as he didn’t want to startle or upset you. In reality, he felt like purring when your small fingers touched his hair and brushed it to your heart’s content. Izou had always taken great pride in his hair and he considered it time well spent as you admired it.

“Your hair is so beautiful, Comm- ah, Izou,” you said, correcting yourself as you spoke. Izou had directed you a few days prior to drop the respectful epithet when you came aboard, wanting you to get more comfortable with him personally. It had been challenging for you at first but Izou had gently corrected you until you were referring to him by his first name more often than not. You still referred to the other Commanders by their title, which he selfishly didn’t tell you to stop, enjoying that he was the only one you were comfortable enough with to say their first name.

“Thank you, Tasuke. I appreciate you tending to it for me,” Izou said lightly, opening his reports once more and pretending to read. In fact, he was expending all his effort to conceal his growing erection from you. If his brothers ever found out he got hard from you combing his hair, he’d never live it down, he thought to himself. You continued to work at his hair for several minutes, humming quietly to yourself while immersed in the undertaking. All too soon, the task had been completed to your satisfaction as you gathered his long hair in your fist.

“Would you mind if I styled your hair, Co- I-izou?” you asked hesitantly, almost unwilling to let go of the silky strands still being brushed out gently.

“As you wish,” Izou replied, now sitting up fully so you could properly style him. Having you attend to his hair reminded him of his theater days as a child, when he’d have his hair and makeup done before performances. You stood up and grabbed a few items off his vanity, bringing them back to the couch.

“I am familiar with your preferred hairstyle, may I prepare your hair that way?” you asked, now hesitating as Izou smiled at you.

“Please, it would bring me immense pleasure,” Izou replied, settling in on the couch. You returned his smile with a small one of your own as you stood in front of him and began the traditional process of waxing his hair. It was a very painstaking process and truthfully Izou was thankful someone else was doing it for him. He didn’t mind the process generally but it felt so much better to have you close to his body and fussing over him. Once his hair was waxed, you then moved into tying his hair into knots and pinning them down, your deft fingers flying through the process as if you’d done it hundreds of times. You worked in silence and Izou dutifully continued pretending to read his reports.

“You are very handsome, Izou,” you commented with a flush once you were done with the work. Handing him a mirror, Izou admired your handiwork in his reflection and was proud of the work you’d done.

“Only due to your clever hands,” he replied, opening your curled hands to kiss your palms. You flushed from your chest to your ears, which Izou found unbearably cute.

The two of you slowly settled into a daily routine in which you would do Izou’s hair and makeup for him before working hours. It soon became Izou’s favorite part of the day both because it was relaxing and because all of your attention was focused on him. You’d also started cleaning his room and doing his laundry, which Izou tried to put a stop to. However, you were starting to show some tenacity and stubbornly refused to let the Commander launder his own clothes as he had been for years. He watched you wash and dry his kimono carefully, taking better care of them than even he had. Izou really didn’t want you working harder on his behalf but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having his scent draped over you.

It was getting harder for Izou to avoid marking you or claiming you for his own. Night after night, you slept within arm’s reach, your beautiful form and scent calling out to him like a siren. Izou had heard whispers of a betting pool - some crew were betting he’d already marked you in a secret spot on you while the other half were betting that you weren’t even an Omega in the first place. What happened between the two of you wasn’t anyone’s business but his teeth yearned to sink into your neck as you lay beneath him, calling his name in ecstasy.

One morning, you had already completed his hair and were working on his makeup. The lipstick brush was in your hand as you applied the finishing touches to his lipstick. Putting down the brush, you studied his face carefully, turning it this way and that in your hands to ensure that his final look was exactly to his liking. Izou was about to compliment your perfect work when you suddenly leaned in and brushed your lips against his own.

Izou was stunned - he’d never thought you’d summon the courage to do anything so brazen. He was so shocked he didn’t say anything for a moment. Your eyes widened once you realized what you had done and you stood up to bow in front of him, nearly falling over in your desire to explain yourself.

“I - I…I’m so sorry Commander!” you cried, tears already forming in your eyes. “I knew you didn’t want me to, I don’t know what came over me. P-please don’t kick me off the ship, I’ll move out of your room, I’ll sleep outside, I’ll -”

“Shh, stop,” Izou replied, tugging you onto his lap. You sniffled but allowed him to settle you across his lap where he could calm you down. “What do you mean, ‘you knew I didn’t want you to?” he asked, wiping your tears away. You looked down at your hands that were twisting into your clothes in worry.

“We spend every night in the same bed like mates, but you never…reach for me. I know I am plain and unscented, I dare not think someone like you would want someone like -” Izou cut off your explanation by wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You were hesitant and shy, unsure how to respond to Izou’s tender kiss as he kissed you thoroughly. You placed your hands on Izou’s shoulders, unsure what to do with them as he continued kissing you. Izou led and you followed as he gently coaxed kiss after kiss from you. At first you didn’t know what to do with your lips or tongue but Izou patiently kissed you time and time again, his tongue running against the closed seam of your lips. You opened them and Izou took his time exploring your mouth with his tongue as you shut your eyes in pleasure.

“Have you been kissed before?” Izou asked, now kissing from the corner of your mouth down to your neck. He was careful to avoid your scent glands even though he wanted to bite down - hard. Your shook your head, panting with need as Izou continued to kiss you.

“N-not like this,” you said, making Izou pause again. He was definitely sending Ace back to your home island. He could smell your arousal in the room, the spicy scent making his own pheromones rise in reaction. Keeping his mind on the present, Izou licked the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

“I haven’t been reaching for you not because I don’t want you. I want you very, very much, little Omega. I don’t reach for you because I don’t want to pressure you, I want you to feel free to choose the partner you’d like. It is not from a lack of desire, it is from a place of respect,” Izou whispered into your ear as his large hand splayed across your lower back to pull you closer.

“I w-want you too, it isn’t fair that you’re so beautiful,” you husked, now moving your hands to loop behind Izou’s neck. Izou was glad you’d painted his skin the familiar white otherwise you’d be seeing his blush at your words.

“That’s it, touch me. Explore my skin, my clothes, my hair. All of me is meant for you to touch,” Izou urged you. One of your hands flittered to his neck, your fingernails accidentally brushing his scent gland. He let out a small moan at the sensation; he didn’t want to stifle himself or his pleasure around you. Hearing the sound, you repeated the movement with hesitation, causing Izou to growl.

“Careful, little Omega. Otherwise we won’t just be kissing in a few moments,” he rumbled into your ear. You gasped as he playfully bit your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. A knock at the door had Izou rumbling from his chest as you scrambled off his lap.

“Yo, Izou, you’re late for once,” he heard Ace say from beyond the door while chewing on something. For Ace to have to come get Izou meant that he was truly late.

“We will continue this later,” Izou said, noting your kiss bruised lips and mussed hair. Smoothing out your hairstyle, he pressed one more kiss to your lips before standing and leaving for his Commander’s meeting. He hoped kissing would be added to your morning routine in addition to the hair and make up.

It was.

Izou reveled in teaching you how to kiss and how to be kissed. Izou figured out that you’d been treated roughly before, the primary method of kissing consisting of someone shoving their tongue down your throat without much input from you. Now, Izou was teaching you how to open your mouth to accept his own, how to return his kisses, and what to do with your tongue. You were a fast learner and kissing had quickly turned into heavy petting.

You and Izou would make out on his bed after you woke up in the morning, spending time together getting to know each other’s bodies over your clothes like horny teenagers. Izou was over forty and yet he couldn’t stop kissing you like he was seventeen again. You were hesitant to remove your clothing and Izou didn’t push, you’d let him know when you were ready. Izou doused himself in your scent every morning, licking and nibbling at your scent glands until you were grinding yourself on his thigh with soft keens tumbling from your lips. The diversions always began chastely, with sweet kisses to your mouth and cheeks, but ended with Izou's thigh slotted between your own as you ground on him over your clothes. up from your lips. It was driving you both crazy to be intimate without having intercourse, but Izou was willing to wait as long as it took for you to feel comfortable.

Once the ship passed your archipelago, the weather changed and the temperature steadily climbed daily. With the hotter temperatures, you grew increasingly uncomfortable, seeming to want out of your own skin. Dark circles appeared under your eyes and it was harder for Izou to rouse you out of bed in the mornings. You were sweaty and itchy but you insisted that you didn’t need to see Marco, that you were just busy and unused to the warmer weather after a lifetime on winter islands.

Izou wasn’t convinced that the weather was why you were looking more tired than usual; he was worried. He still saw you in the mornings and at night but something was amiss. Thatch said you took a break in the middle of the day, but you weren’t relaxing on deck or in his cabin like he thought you’d be. Izou asked Tate and you weren’t in the women’s quarters or bathing areas either. It had finally culminated in a day where Izou had to bring you tea in bed in the morning as you shivered from a cold sweat. Your scent had sharpened but Izou wasn’t sure if it was from the weather or from spending so much time near an unmated alpha like himself.

“Either I summon Marco, or I carry you to the infirmary. Which is your choice?” Izou asked in an unamused tone as he hovered near you while you sipped your tea.

“There is no need to worry, Izou,” you said with a small smile, reaching up to play with the end of his long hair. “Once I get moving I’ll be alright. I have much to do today, work that I cannot hand to another. I promise that if I’m not better by the end of the day I’ll visit Commander Marco,” you said softly. You drank the tea slowly and stretched under Izou’s watchful eye.

“I myself will accompany you to Marco’s office this evening,” Izou stated in a tone that brokered no arguments. You nodded seriously, then began to get ready for the day.

Suspicious about your ‘duties that could not be given to another’, Izou decided to follow you as you were dismissed from making lunch, trailing you quietly through the halls as you made your way deeper into the ship. You were heading down towards the second division quarters, covering a yawn as you passed Ace’s cabin. Izou’s guard was up - there wasn’t a reason you’d need to be down here when his division was on the other side of the ship and the kitchens were on a higher level. Of course, you were welcome anywhere on the ship but you looked like you needed a break or a nap, not going to who-knows-where. Izou continued to watch silently as you knocked on the door to the officer’s cabins for the second division.

The door opened and Teach welcomed you in, his large frame blocking out all light from behind him. He reached down to give you an enveloping hug, which you tolerated but didn’t return. He beckoned you inside, putting his hand on your back unnecessarily to guide you into the shared room but keeping the door open. You wrinkled your nose as he told you what he wanted done, nodding every so often to show you were listening. After a few minutes, Teach gave you another lingering hug and you set to work under his watchful eye.

You began taking the sheets off Teach’s bed, gathering the fabric in your arms. Izou had seen enough and entered the room, coming up behind you and took the bedsheets from your hands. You looked up at him in confusion almost as if you’d done something wrong. You started to wring your hands before Izou took them in his own to prevent your excessive worrying. Teach was watching the scene but didn’t say anything, crossing his arms while Izou spoke to you.

“What the fuck was she doing?” Izou asked Teach coldly. Even though the conversation was being conducted in Common, Tasuke had enough experience to know there was a confrontation happening. Izou glanced down at the Omega, who’s soured scent was now the acrid scent of fear.

“Go to my chambers, please. You’re not in trouble,” Izou said to you. You nodded and turned to leave but Izou still held your hands in his own. It would be awkward for you but he had some questions that needed answers.

“Has he ever hurt you?” Izou asked, squeezing your hand lightly.

“N-no. He makes me uncomfortable but he hasn’t done anything bad to me,” you said softly, looking at the floor.

“What does he do that makes you uncomfortable?” Izou prodded gently, bending down to catch your eyes.

“He touches me when he doesn’t need to, but other than that nothing really. I have no basis for my feelings,” you replied, unwilling to meet his gaze. Izou kissed the top of your head and sent you along the hallway back to his quarters. Once you were gone, Izou gave Teach his iciest glare.

“What’s the problem? She’s a maid, right? So I asked her to clean my room, change my sheets, do my laundry. She does it for you so what’s the big deal?” Teach said with a menacing grin, trying to put his large arm over Izou’s shoulders. Izou used the barrel of his gun to push the offending limb off his shoulders.

“She’s not a maid , ” Izou stated coolly, keeping his pistol in hand. He’d never liked Teach, even though Marco vouched for him, and seeing you cleaning another man’s quarters when you were obviously tired had Izou on edge.

“Coulda fooled me with the way she’s always fixing your room, brushin’ your hair, and washin’ your clothes. Guess she’s just yours to use? Or is it open season for any alpha? She’s not claimed after all, zehahahaha!” Teach ended his statement with a laugh even though nothing was amusing.

“She’s not for anyone to use ,” Izou said coolly as he seethed inside.

“So I can get her through the heat that’s coming? Even this one’s finally starting to get a smell, reminds me of home,” Teach said with a wide grin, showcasing his missing teeth. The man was technically an Alpha, but not the kind that Izou wanted to spend any time near. There was something off about Teach, something elusive and dangerous that made him want to bare his teeth and shove you behind him for protection. Izou growled in warning as Teach laughed his obnoxious laugh again.

“Do not talk to her again,” Izou ordered as Teach continued to laugh and threw his hands up like he was surrendering.

“So sensitive over one little Omega, they’re a berri a bunch,” Teach said with a shrug. “If not this one, you can rut over the next -” Teach’s eyes went wide as Izou sent a shot over his head into the ceiling above them. He couldn’t actually kill Teach since he couldn’t prove Teach was trying to get you to go into heat with his scent and Oyaji didn’t tolerate infighting. Izou had no doubt that Teach was having you handle his laundry and clothes in an attempt to innure you to his scent for when you went into heat. Izou would bide his time and perhaps Teach could be taught a lesson at a later time.

“ Do not speak to her again .”

Teach kept laughing but retreated back into his shared quarters, shutting the door behind him. Izou was still on edge but forgot the confrontation with Teach as he went to find his little Omega. Opening the door to his cabin, Izou was hit by the unmistakable scent of falling snow. You were curled up on his bed, clutching one of his kimonos in your hands, rubbing your cheek on the fine silk. Izou sat down on the bed next to you, noting the beads of sweat on your forehead.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you alright?” Izou asked, cupping your cheek. You turned to face him, your eyes screwed shut.

“I feel strange, Alpha,” you whined, nuzzling into his large hand. Izou’s mind belatedly put the pieces together as he looked down at your smaller form. Teach had been onto something - your lethargy, the way you’d been so uncomfortable lately, the way your scent had been building on itself…

“You’re going into heat,” Izou stated, curling his fingers under your jaw. “It might be more intense this time since you’re around so many alphas,” Izou said, making you look at him. You whimpered, tears forming on your lash line. “It will be alright, little Omega, but you need to choose. You can go through it alone, though it might be painful. Or, if you wish, I can find a suitable alpha for you,” Izou gritted out. His alpha roared in displeasure at the thought of another taking care of you, but Izou wasn’t going to force anything on you that you didn’t want.

“I w-want you, Izou,” you said with a hiccup, reaching for him with your arms, discarding the kimono on the bed. “Please, Alpha.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @animefreak818 @epochal-oracle @sparks0918 @rebeccawinters @one-piecelover

#snow fall #izou x reader #izou one piece #izo x reader #x reader #whitebeard crew #marshall d teach #I'm sorry :)#the smut will be next chapter #Izou is taking his time #he's a good boy #omega!reader #omegaverse #alpha izou #alpha Izo

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iwoulddieforher · 7 months ago

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Homebound (Homeward-bound, Housebound) | Alex Cabot × Casey Novak

Author's Note: 17k words- longer than Rigid, which now makes this my longest work yet 😋 Inspired by @jeongonion 's frustration sex and then make up prompt

Warnings: Hate sex! which takes place technically in a church! Alex is heavily implied to have a superiority complex. Mentions of discussion surrounding pregnancy complications but dont worry no one's pregnant I hate pregnancy fics

Summary: Casey Novak had indulged Alexandra Cabot in a one-night stand the night before her testimony, and they hadn't been able to see each other after. When Alex finally gets out of WITSEC, she returns to seek her out, only to find Casey was now suspended. She tries not to let it bother her, but her obsession born from the sudden stark realization that she had underestimated Casey's prowess and desperation for the comfort Novak brings manifests a creature that commands Alex's attention. The beast guides her on a path to discover the new life Casey has constructed- but Alex is angry, and she's desperate to force Casey to finally look at her again.

Find/read this fic below or alternatively on AO3, by clicking on this text

The small whimpers Casey elicited when Alex was nipping her throat had replayed over and over in the blonde's head for years, now, and they were slowly starting to drive her insane.

She had been thrilled, initially, being able to end her stint as chief of the homicide bureau (realizing all the corruption and politics she had despised putting up with as a lower-ranking ADA was so hard to avoid for those in positions of power and finally being able to quit doing that), returning instead to SVU, only to find out the redhead she had spent the second half of witness protection wondering about no longer worked there. She had gotten her license suspended, and promptly vanished from the city entirely- despite her best attempts to weasel information, it seemed like no one genuinely knew where she was.

And that was fine and all, if she wanted to sulk so be it, but then the mark Olivia had made on her calendar that circled the day her suspension was over had come and then gone and there was no word from the faux blonde attorney whatsoever- the only change that had occurred was her number being disconnected, which aggravated Liv to a great extent, as she had made it a habit of calling once a month just to offer a quick word, and since the mailbox never rejected as full she assumed Casey was at least listening.

The small traces of Casey the woman had made on the detectives Alex used to be so familiar with were evident, though, in the way Olivia argued, in the way Stabler bantered. She had become a friend to them, and the strange churn of emotions in Alex's chest when she let her mind wander over to the singular night the two had shared was only further emphasized because of it.

That, too, was driving her insane. The impact Casey had made. And yes, it did make her feel guilty. She knew, logically, that getting riled up that the faux blonde had made her place there after the initial hardship she had endured was ridiculous. But when Olivia in her morning rush accidentally swapped Alex's regular coffee order out for Casey's, it struck a nerve that seemed to resonate with the rest of her.

Even Donnelly, it seemed, had a crack in the shell of her heart where Casey had rammed into it like the fireball of a woman she was.

"Alex," the elder blonde woman barked, "What is it with you-? I'd assume after being a Bureau Chief you'd understand how to handle something like this-"

Alex had never quite made it to the place of lashing back out, so she just gritted her teeth and snorted under her breath while waiting for the judge to finish her tongue-lashing. One thing, she said, though, stuck out to Alex to an unreasonable degree.

"If Novak had returned to her position, I doubt I would've needed to step in on this matter," the judge had snapped in a fit of impatience and unsympathetic scolding.

"What?" Alex bristled, her eyebrows knitting over her eyes from frustration. "Casey?"

That seemed to pause the judge for a second, and with a sigh, she removed her glasses to wipe her sleeve over the lenses with what Alex could easily mistake as a regretful expression. "Pardon. It's unprofessional of me to compare you two."

"But, what did you mean?" the younger woman forced the issue, rising and taking a step forward imploringly, not sure why her soul was so driven to do so.

Donnelly's face shifted in mild confusion, maybe even a hint of irritation, but with a jerk of her eyebrows, she relented what was going through her mind when she had made that comment.

"Novak, brash and headstrong as she was- there was no denying she was a brilliant prosecutor. Her conviction rate was the highest we'd seen in a while. I suppose I'm just irate that she didn't return- I assumed she would. That's no excuse for taking it out on you, Cabot, I apologize. Casey was..."

Deft, Alex tried to internally supply her with the adjective. Unique. Profoundly capable, especially astute. She was something different, something bigger and more lively than the harsh, polished walls of the DA's office could encompass properly- or at least, everyone seemed to act like it.

Donnelly still assumed she was just upset at the comparison- and yes, she supposed she was, but the churn of emotions in the pit of her stomach twisted around something different.

"Casey's conviction rate?" Alex felt her brow furrow despite herself, and the judge gave a small modest shrug and then supplied her with the information,

"Seventy-one percent. Nearly unheard of in our line of work."

The only reason it wasn't literally unheard of was because Casey Novak had achieved it.

Perhaps it was simply the nature of the human ego to be hurt by comparison, but something within Alex's psyche seemed to shift at that.

The woman was a formidable prosecutor, that much had been obvious, but in some ways- perhaps it had just been the nature of her return, the way people had treated her as some sort of legendary creature flew in from far winds, and the look of reverence that flickered in Casey's eyes when they had first eye contact, but Alex had always assumed that, between the two of them, she was the better prototype for an attorney. She had heard in gossip and rumors how headstrong Casey was, how she seemed to run into house fires without question, and how she acted more like a detective herself rather than the political elegance an ADA should exhibit.

She knew better- she had been raised better, raised in a family of legal connections and in some ways simple nepotism. She radiated the esteem and elegance a female attorney needed to succeed, she had been bred to do so, and she assumed that, through these ways, and especially through the way Casey had treated her, that Alex was a superior in some way. Not to a degree that might suggest she was egotistical, (perhaps this entire train of thought was, a part of her mind murmured to her), but to some degree nonetheless.

It was simply the natural conclusion that although, yes, Casey was good, Alex was better. The squad had treated them as such, after all.

Was that a wrong assumption to make?

She had envisioned herself as a hawk come down to accompany songbird, but this startling information seemed to suggest she had misinterpreted the situation entirely.

Alex felt mildly sick with a sudden burst of anger, an animal that clawed its way from her stomach into her lungs and she let out a slow, long exhale.

"Don't let that agitate you, Cabot," Donnelly caught on, and then with a wave dismissed her from her office after ensuring whatever move Alex had been trying to make case-wise would no longer be an option.

Alex decided to take the rest of the day to sulk, snapping curt responses at the detectives who bothered her and rubbing her fingers on her temple more than once as if to soothe a headache that didn't exist.

The next day she felt better, yes, but bitterness resided in her soul which stayed there stubbornly for the next weeks.

Casey stayed in her mind like a very odd plague, or perhaps her infatuation had simply bred a needy beast of a creature that demanded her attention.

It may have been the way Donnelly had compared them- the idea that while Alex had assumed she was the sharper weapon, Casey was in reality a force more powerful than she was. A sort of anxious resentment and bitterness stirred- but she told herself it was only natural to be upset when bested, except the majority of her brain was scrambling to retort that no, she hadn't been bested, Casey was gone- censured, suspended- and she was still here. Didn't that make her better? Didn't she still have higher footing?

The whispers of Casey's quiet pleas in her ear, the way she had looked up through half-lidded eyes at Alex as if she was some sort of goddess she would spend days worshipping except for the fact they were about to convict the assassin who had attempted on Alex's life a meager night later, had created a sort of fondness in Alex's mind as the one who could lay above her. The one Casey wanted to worship, that being looked at meant she was special in some sort of way, and that simply didn't make sense to her if Casey was truly the higher power.

She was supposed to be better. Why would Casey have acted in such a way if she wasn't? Or did Casey just, as she had, assume she was, and if she realized she wasn't, she'd- what, lose interest? No, Alex wouldn't allow herself to think about such things. Alex was better.

Perhaps it was simply that Alex was shaken by the fact no reunion had occurred. She had really expected Novak to show back up, eager and impatient to begin convicting felons once again, expected to fall into step beside her and share caseloads.

She knew Olivia had expected the same, too, in the way that she huffed when she had to flip the calendar to the next month, leaving the date where she had penned at the end of Casey's suspension in an important red pen that had come and then gone without a word from the now rather mysterious former attorney. It would've been alright to hear that she had returned to working somewhere else, at least, that the pursuit of justice that had run so fervently in her bloodstream was still being used if not with them, but no such word was ever announced. Alex had even, on Olivia's request, inquired into it, but Casey had never utilized her now-lifted ban to reassume her license to practice.

And that frustrated Alex, frustrated her immensely, and that snowballed into further frustrations when she couldn't put her thumb on why she was so irked in the first place.

She had really wanted- no, in the nights long passed in witness protection when she had thought about it, she needed it. Under the covers in bed, toying with the page of a book she wasn't reading, she had pictured walking back into the squad room alone- no marshals, no escort. Just her jacket slung over her shoulder, just a pitstop before reclaiming her job and her title, to say hi. She had envisioned feverishly the look of joy on Olivia's face as she jumped out of her chair to meet her, arms holding Alex's elbows the way Olivia always did, perhaps Alex cupping Olivia's face, too. Looking over at Huang and Stabler and the others, all aligned in her imagination as if waiting for her to step back in as if nothing traumatic had happened at all, exchanging a curt but meaningful nod with Cragen.

And then she closed the book entirely, because holding it was pointless, her blank eyes filled with the imagination of Casey strolling back into the precinct with a sigh- returning from arraignment, perhaps, or maybe court. Still adorned in her court clothes, the tailored fabric that fit her figure perfectly, looking like a soldier, or perhaps a wife, fighting the good fight or nurturing justice and civilization in the way Alex felt as though only she could really appreciate, and then her eyes would land on Alex.

And oh, how Alex dreamed about those green eyes widening slightly, how she'd pause, stunned for a second, and then smile- perhaps shyly, perhaps brightly, perhaps perhaps perhaps but always so amazingly Casey.

And it hadn't happened- Casey had been gone by the time she had managed to fight her way back in. So despite not needing the comfort of that scenario anymore, she had achieved her life back to the extent that mattered after all, her mind had concocted a new one to satisfy the dent Casey had left regardless.

This time it was Casey wandering back into the precinct, green eyes flickering around, eyeing up her surroundings to see what had changed, only to find not much. Olivia jumping from her chair the same way Alex had imagined she would've done for her, stepping forward without hesitation, and although Casey would never cup the base of Olivia's skull like Alex would have, Olivia would cradle the sides of her arm just the same. Stabler would crack some joke about Casey returning from radio silence, but Casey would look just like an angel re-descending onto the world. And then Casey would look up to see Alex casually leaning on a desk or a railing or whatever Alex would find at that moment to lean on.

And then, that smile. Perhaps shyly, perhaps brightly, but exactly and always the way Alex needed her to.

She hadn't gotten her reunion, no.

Neither one of them.

Not what she had envisioned would come after, either. Selfishly, she thought perhaps she was just teased with the idea of repaying Casey for the night that woman had provided her with, comfort in the sense of tangled limbs and heavy kisses, and the fact she wasn't able to. Casey would've been nervous to return, but she would've regardless, unable to stay away, and Alex would've comforted her in her ability the same way Casey had nurtured her confidence in the trial through words and other uses for tongues and teeth and fingers. She felt robbed, even though she knew that was unfair.

She kept reminding herself that they had met once. One, singular night, and no matter how good that hook-up had felt that's what it was. The marshals hadn't let her say goodbye. Alex had despairingly refused to seek intimacy after that, not wanting to take another into her arms and allow them to call her a fake name so she could fake moan and try to forget she was in witness protection, but Casey living her truth was under no such obligation. Casey might not have wanted to sleep with her again, maybe not now that she'd be seeing her reoccurringly, and Alex would've been prepared to accept that, if only she had something to accept.

She had nothing to accept, because now when she heard Olivia call Casey's phone when cases were especially stressing the brunette out of sheer muscle memory, Novak's phone was disconnected. Olivia would stand in silence for a second, and Alex would stand a little ways away feeling equally discontented, despite the fact Olivia had a reason to miss her- a friendship forged through years- while Alex knew her for one night and apparently now would never see her again.

It was as though the alluring faux blonde was taunting her, no matter how unfair that thought was as it boiled over in Alex's brain. It was unfair to think lowly of Casey. Perhaps she had simply found an occupation she thought suited her more and wasn't keen on lodging her way back into a space where she'd need to reassert her presence when she had already found another set of walls to encompass her life.

And Alex focused on that, focused on work, focused on ending her useless engagement she had fallen into out of desperation to cling back into her real life, focused on trying to get rid of Jim Steele who apparently thought she actually cared about him.

"Hey, Liv, what's this notification on your phone?" Stabler said one day, though, while Alex and Olivia were discussing the grounds for a search warrant needed, and Olivia glanced over casually and then flicked her wrist dismissively.

"I'm bringing someone flowers," she said, as if it was unimportant.

"Holding out on me?" Alex interjected abruptly, and Olivia's brow furrowed immediately, and then she laughed nervously as if something had just occurred to her.

(A lightning bolt shot through Olivia's spine when she heard the echo of Casey's chuckle, when she had said those exact words to her before the flower delivery that had almost killed her, and she knew Alex could tell that she stiffened. It was the remnant of her fear she'd lose two of her favorite ADAs in the same way, bleeding out in front of her, sprawled out on the floor like lifeless dolls.)

Alex got the sense that Olivia had recognized something she had heard before, and bristled slightly. She assumed it wasn't Casey, but the part of her brain space that the faux blonde seemed to consume adamantly murmured to her that it was, that she was being compared, that she had to assert herself.

"Um-" Olivia blinked, looking awkwardly in Elliot's direction for an out, but he only raised an eyebrow, inadvertently backing Alex up.

"No, not for someone like that, just- it's the anniversary of when Casey buried her fiance, and..."

Fiance? Casey was engaged? Well- had been engaged? When had she gotten engaged, and when had it ended? Alex felt her chest rise with a shallow breath, trying to grapple in her spinning mind. No, Alex couldn't have been a rebound- that was a stupid conclusion, she wouldn't defile herself by even suggesting that internally. Casey had wanted her, just her, when they had slept together. The look in those green eyes, when they stared up at her adoringly, told her so.

"Oh, you still feel guilty about that?" Elliot popped open a soda can. Alex noted the way he said that seemed very Stabler-like, in the sense that it wasn't warm or cold, curious or detached, he just.. said things in a way that was hard to describe.

But now she was curious, too, after the initial internal struggle, about why Olivia would feel guilty about death in Casey's personal affairs- she would've assumed she'd find out if Olivia had been involved in a case where someone in Casey's life had been brutalized, so only hearing this now seemed odd. Olivia just pressed her lips into a thin line, flexing an eyebrow at Stabler who simply shrugged nonchalantly and raised the can to his lips.

"What do you feel guilty for, exactly?" Alex inquired, finally, after a second's pause.

"Nothing." Olivia pressed, and then with a mild sigh, "I snooped in Casey's desk and found something I shouldn’t have and proceeded to handle it badly because I was pissed this guy-" she pointed at Stabler- "almost went blind."

Some things never changed, and Olivia's inability to properly summarize cases or events that were no longer actively necessary was one of them- after she signed the final records, she was done with them, and Alex internally decided that was as good an explanation as one could get.

"But.. her fiance?"

"Was already dead. For a while. But still. I don't think she lives in New York anymore so I've been bringing his grave flowers on the anniversary of when she buried him because I don't know if she knew when he actually died, just so... because I feel like, someone should do it." Olivia finished lamely, and then decided she was done talking about that, and proceeded to jump back on the train of discussing the search warrant.

Casey didn't know exactly when her own fiance died? What the hell had happened? But Olivia seemed unwilling to pour information like Alex adamantly was trying to prompt her to, and Alex didn't want to push.

The monster in Alex's stomach purred with curiosity at the new mention, new tidbits of information Alex was snaking for daily life, and despite her attempts to settle it, she found herself returning to the precinct at the time Olivia's shift was over.

"I want to come with you," she said, and to Liv's raised brow she justified, "convicting my assassin was a good enough reason to have me indebted to her. I can't thank her, so I may as well just do this with you."

Olivia decided that was reason enough- it wasn't like she knew the guy, either- so they climbed into her car and started on the trip to the outskirts of the city where enough green was preserved to allow for the shade of trees to grace tombstones.

The cemetery was a recognized Catholic one, so greeting them when Olivia pulled over in a parking lot was a small chapel with an imposed, ornate roof. To the side of it was a small wooden building, quaint yet well-cared for, which sold flowers. Olivia moved immediately towards it, so Alex assumed this was probably where she'd been buying the flowers she provided Casey's dead fiance.

"I wonder if she broke off the engagement before or after he died," Olivia muttered to herself vaguely, her forehead creased as she tried to figure out the appropriate flower to select.

"Sunflowers- or yellow roses, something that symbolizes friendship," Alex suggested vaguely, her interest piqued by whatever Olivia meant- she didn't know the story, after all- but she knew better than to pry. It would feel like an intrusion if Benson didn't offer the information willingly, and it didn't seem like the brunette was planning on it.

They both selected a modest amount of stalks, paid accordingly, and then Alex let Olivia lead her in a direction until they came to a cross-shaped stone suspended in the ground with 'Charles 'Charlie' Kelly' chiseled into it. Beneath it, 'ad astra; he will be missed more than he knows'. To the stars, the first portion meant. Apparently, despite Olivia's implication that the engagement hadn't been a successful one regardless of Charlie's death, Casey still thought of him in the sky above her.

Olivia was apparently lost in thought, so Alex let her mind wander.

She shouldn't have come here, she decided, that was evident enough. She was uncomfortable and it felt like a violation for her to be offering respect, regardless of what her intentions behind it were. She didn't believe in the afterlife, so she was spared the idea of Casey Novak's dead almost-life-partner staring eerily at Casey Novak's lesbian one-night stand from the grave, but if Casey was religious maybe it was still some sort of misconduct she shouldn't have allowed herself. There was no reason for her to be hung up on Casey as she was, and this was a major overstep.

"She's really strong," Olivia said after some pause, "I guess I kept forgetting that when she was still working with us. To endure this, and then.."

Alex knew better than to push, and Olivia wasn't giving her an opening to pry, so her uncomfortablility mounted to a greater height as she swallowed and tried not to ask what Olivia was referring to.

Distraction- although, not as good a distraction as she wanted, but at least it was something to focus on, was a teenage boy with a large, sun-shield-covered cart dragging a large mass of flower arrangements down the isles of tombstones, reading nameplates and occasionally stopping to gently place a large bouquet down on the marble slab, checking off a name on his list before continuing.

Alex turned her head and decided to just watch him, instead, with his rather casual clothes- it seemed like he might've come here from school, perhaps he was related to whoever owned this place- and his cart traverse in a steady, respectful rhythm.

To her and Olivia's surprise, though, when his cart was nearing empty save for five large arrangements, he dragged it over to where they were standing. At least, Alex worried he was going to try to peddle, and she didn't know how to turn down a teenage boy selling flowers in a cemetery. Instead, he simply tipped his baseball cap respectfully in her direction, tugging one bouquet out of the bucket it had been placed in, impaling the stalks in a foam block, and then carefully arranging it next to Charlie's headstone, before proceeding to do the same with the other four.

"My regards," he said in an easy voice, glancing between their faces, before drawing a line through the final name and order summary in his list, before turning to leave.

Alex's eyes flickered over to the flower arrangement. It was careful, it was delicate, and it looked ridiculously expensive. Large, blood-red roses sprawling effortlessly in directions, easy symbols of love, of course- but then others, like the frequent dots of German chamomile peeking out beside them, jasmine, transvaal daisies, and many, many others.

Alex became acutely aware of her breathing as her sharp eyes flickered. The second bouquet was a blend of the flowers adorning the first and the third, similarly, the fourth bouquet was a combination of the third and the fifth. The attention-demanding red roses claimed the majority of visibility, but the smaller flowers that crept around them like soft kisses on a sleeping giant enraptured Alex's focus.

The first bouquet's secondary selection was primarily yellow, the same flowers Alex had earlier recommended for friendship. The third entertained pinks- carnations, and then whites, like daisies and gardenias. The fifth contained a different note, where the aforementioned German chamomile and jasmine formed a small ring around a singular blue chrysanthemum.

"Oh," Alex breathed, softly, under her breath, her voice not directed at Olivia- she didn't know why she was speaking out her revelation- "she's telling their love story."

Friendship, romance, attempted healing, and then suffering. Initially, Alex had assumed the flowers might've been from parents or siblings. No, this was most surely Casey's work. It made her sick to her stomach.

She turned in hast to the flower boy, who had started his trip back down the aisle, pacing over to him in long overconfident strides.

"Hey- pardon me, but- what are you doing, exactly?"

In usual teenage fashion, he flashed her an almost incredulous look, a tilt of the head that meant 'Can't you see, lady?' but under the way her features grew suddenly stern he relented.

"Sometimes when family members can't come to pay respects they call in flower arrangements to the graves." He answered her appropriately, although he now looked mildly wary. Alex wasn't sure if she should be proud of her ability to intimidate teenagers.

"Who ordered the flowers for Charles Kelly?" Alex's gaze flashed back to where she had been standing, where Olivia still stood looking at her with a confused expression.

"The wife, I think." He followed her gaze, "She asked for one of us to do it by hand, that arrangement. I helped. It costs more, normally our flower vendors pre-make bouquets."

Alex gritted her teeth, a muscle in her jaw growing rigid as a very very unethical idea formulated in her mind.

"Fifty bucks says you can give me the number she used to call?"

The boy's eyebrow raised sharply, and Alex winced, suddenly feeling stupidly vulnerable in her court clothes in a grassy lot surrounded by the evidence of grief of families she wasn't a part nor know to any degree, with no real purpose or justification for being there. Still, the monster in her stomach roared happily at the fact she felt closer to Casey than she had in months- prancing into her ribcage to make her heart pound before twisting and crawling its way back down. Casey had such a hold on her curiosity it was making her feel seasick.

"...what were you, Kelly's mistress?"

"Do not take that tone with me, young man." She reprimanded, a bit harsher than she initially attempted to, "Do you want the money, or not?"

"Yeah," he offered after less than a second's consideration, and Alex thanked the heavens for the recklessness of teenage boys, "let me go check our records."

Less than five minutes later, Alex was now short of a half-hundred dollars but had the number Casey had used to call the cemetery clutched tightly on a piece of scrap paper in her palm, a sinking feeling in her stomach and an unknowing albeit bewildered Olivia next to her. She refused to say anything about it, though, and Olivia didn't push, thank god.

She toyed with the scrap of paper until the ink it had been jotted down in smudged under her sweaty fingers and she hastily tucked it into her purse instead, a bristling, uncomfortable feeling in her veins as she felt the beast that was her feeling towards Novak rip through her bloodstream. Fuck, there's no way she could actually do this.

The phone began to ring the second she stepped back into her own apartment, after Olivia had dropped her off, and she had barely managed the elevator ride without pulling out her phone and calling the number immediately.

Internally, she felt like she was going to crack open like an egg with each long, unanswered ring. What has she expected? Casey wouldn't know who was calling- was Casey the type to pick up unknown calls? If she did pick up, what did Alex even want to say? Why was she calling?

Really- why was she calling?

"You have reached St. Raphael's Parish, this is Pastoral Assistant O'Neill speaking," came a young man's voice on the other end of the phone, and Alex inhaled sharply. A church? Casey had called via.. what?

"Hello," She said, her voice tinged with anxiety in a way that made her wince, "I was just calling to ask if there's a Casey Novak associated here in some way?"

"Yes, Ms. Novak currently assists our church's community center. Has she reached out to you about our program? Would you like to speak with her further?"

The monster in her stomach roared, crawling from her intestines to her esophagus and lodging itself there with a pleased hum, and Alex exhaled shakily. "No, that's okay. I...," she licked her suddenly dry lips, "I just met her recently, and wanted to inquire about the..." She needed some kind of excuse, something vague so this man wouldn't mention to Casey someone had called for her, "when confessions are... open."

Her voice sounded clumsy and awkward, but apparently, O'Neill found her stammering endearing because he quickly reassured her and explained how and when she'd be able to confess her sins. "It's never too late," he had implored, "to strive for reconciliation with God."

Strive for reconciliation. No, she was most definitely just striving for Casey. Maybe she actually did need to convert to some sort of religion if the feeling of Casey's lips on her pulse point had affected her to this degree.

When she looked up the church, though, pondering if she could make an excuse to drop by, its address was listed as in Rhode Island.

"I can't do this," she muttered to herself firmly, impulsively flinging her phone with her fingers into the wall, where it made a satisfying thumping sound and dropped to the floor. "This is so fucking stupid."

So she sat idly on the information she had. Olivia stopped calling the number she had now that it was pointless to attempt to do so, and Donnelly refrained from mentioning her again, and the echo of Casey's voice in the hallways in the back of her mind- a purely envisioned sound, because Alex had only walked through the walls of the precinct with her once- ceded.

Work was idle, and so too did her life become. When she caught herself pining over a woman who no longer existed in any space she was involved in she quietly tamped down the idea, agitating the monster, but the beast did eventually begin to shrink and give up, retreating only to the valley of her thighs where it snapped and nipped occasionally but was otherwise out of mind so long as she tended to it on the nights she lay alone in a cold bed with nothing else to occupy her mind.

It was weeks later when something happened to stir the creature straight back into her ribcage, howling and ravaging the insides of her flesh like a bitch in heat.

"There's a man out there assaulting cops, and you- what, Alex? You aren't going to do anything?"

They were fighting in Cragen’s office, a scenario that had happened many times previously, but Alex always hated it, because not only did she need to verbally hold off Olivia but she could feel the blistering, scrutinizing stares of Elliot and the Captain in her pale skin.

"We don't have enough evidence for me to charge him with anything yet!" She snapped. She knew this was personal for Olivia- of course it was- but she knew better than to leap headstrong into something that would get thrown out in court.

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to find!" Olivia raged back, taking a step closer, and Alex bristled in response.

"Literally anything that would solidify your theory-!" Alex tried to barter, taking a step forward too with her palms extended outward as if asking Olivia to give her something, anything, to prove this case. Didn't Olivia understand through all these years that Alex was just as desperate to lock deranged men behind bars as she was? But it always became too narrow-sighted for Olivia to see, apparently, because she just made an awkward growling sound.

"We have his blood-"

"The sample was too tainted to get anything out of it, you know that already, Olivia, be reasonable-"

"Maybe I'm sick of you being reasonable!" Olivia fired, and Alex snarled under her breath. Alright, a personal challenge was thrown, but Olivia apparently wasn't done talking.

"Casey got fucking suspended trying to protect her own and you aren't raising a finger to help us-"

The blonde’s gaze averted quickly, flashing the captain a cold, harsh stare. Reign in your detectives, it said, this type of disrespect is not something I tolerate. Despite that, she bristled at the look she got in return, and the quiet snarl emanating from Stabler.

Alex turned on her heel and focused on the clipped tapping of her heels against the dirty marble floor as she stormed away, flicking her wrist in Olivia's direction as if shutting her up, which it didn't manage to do. Exiting an argument so abruptly was ungodly unprofessional, she knew that, but God she was going to slap her if she stayed.

"Her conviction rate was higher than yours, and she took less to court." Olivia's cold voice shot out behind her and Alex froze in her retreat, "She wouldn't be scared of this."

Alex believed the monster in her anatomy had just now effectively torn her heart apart, her mind a hailstorm of cold fury, and her exit was emphasized when she slammed the door behind her. Fuck that. Fuck this. Casey was not better than her, Casey was a fucking coward who was hiding in a church for some fucking reason.

And that's why, despite it being an active workday, she was in her car gripping the steering wheel so tightly the logical portion of her brain tried to warn her she was either going to snap it clean off or break a tendon in her fingers, driving to the address she had searched once again for St. Raphael's Parish.

It took a little over three hours.

She drove in utter, complete silence, breaking her demented glare from the road only once to turn her phone on Do Not Disturb when Olivia's apology text and call came about an hour or so into the drive.

The beast inside her grew two heads- one bickering and twisting her liver, demanding her to reassert her control over her life- HER life- feeling as though some expectation, whether it be the loss of her own ideal without Casey's presence or the expectations of the people she thought should comprehend her success were comparing her to a woman turning tail, were unfair to a degree which appropriated this kind of fury. The other writhed in anguish, needy and headstrong with the ideality of some reunion with Casey bringing her some sort of end to this internal torment. She gripped the steering wheel harder. Something in her wrist cramped.

The church was old, and utterly captivating in aesthetics. A testament to an era long since past, towering spires that shot straight up to scratch the underbelly of the heavens loomed over the blonde ADA as she exited her car, feeling mildly dwarfed. The exterior was a dark, reddish-hued brick, lined with sculptures of angelic figures or intricate creatures imbedded in the sides of the wall, but if Alex squinted it was almost as if they were moving, telling stories of lessons long ago taught. The garden in front was equally mesmerizing, shaped hedges and rows of neatly planted white flowers emphasizing the cobblestone path that led one up to the steps, directing any who may inspect the exterior of the church towards elephantine mahogany doors. As if to further call attention to the entryway, above the arched door was a circular window, stained glass in faded yet alluring colors depicted an angel with open arms, ever waiting to look down welcomingly up on those who may enter.

The weight of being in the presence of a building so magnificent while in such a blind rage seemed ironic to Alex, who was not there to admire or confess but rather seek out a woman she was still not entirely sure which particular emotion she felt about.

Regardless, with tentative, clipped steps, she began to advance on the pathway, eyes flickering about in a mild degree of awe.

The interior of the church was simultaneously obviously modernized and still held the lingering charm only buildings decades old could muster. The smell of candles and books- rather like a library, almost, except accompanied by wisps of elegant perfumes and whatnot- greeted Alex as she inhaled sharply, eyes landing on the polished wooden desk, in which a man was perched waiting.

"Excuse me," she began tentatively, greeted with a broad, warm smile she inwardly immediately felt as though she did not deserve, "I heard there was a recreational center associated with this church?"

"Ah, yes, our harbor for community." He nodded wisely, "Are you looking to involve yourself in the activities? I can provide you with pamphlets, or talk you through the application process to become a volunteer."

"I'd be very grateful for a pamphlet," Alex murmured awkwardly, and the man immediately handed her a small laminated paper booklet that he had seemed to materialize out of thin air.

"If you'd like to observe, you may continue out this door on the side, and follow the signs." He nodded, "We do have guards who may ask to inspect your purse, but otherwise you should be free to explore. We abide by the principles of vulnerability, and openness, and our set-up is as such."

"Thank you," she excused herself, beginning out the door he had gestured at and finding elegant posts directing visitors of the church to different areas. A community garden, a playground, and a small donation center were all directed towards, but she found the pathway towards a large wooden building a small ways away and began walking towards that instead, after finding the designated sign for 'community center' in an elegant, bold font.

She had realized, of course, that she was in a significantly less population-dense area than all the cities she had ever been accustomed to, but this church's emphasis on community still caught her off guard. Perhaps less heinous crimes would be committed in her own city if people cared about each other to this extent, she pondered, flipping through the pamphlet as she walked.

Part of her initial aversion to the place faded as a curiosity overtook her, a desire to investigate momentarily lapsing her anger and her twisted emotion, and although the monster in the ribs did not relent in its pursuit of a faux blonde it seemed content to settle while she aquatinted herself with new surroundings.

There were sections for activities, such as fundraisers, clubs, and tutoring, classes on family nurturing and homemaking, and sections for group therapies for various issues. Alex skimmed them all, pausing her fast-flickering eyes at the appearance of every name that was mentioned, but Casey's didn't surface until she found a 'new additions' portion in the back of the pamphlet with detailed courses that had been recently established to promote education in middle and high-school aged youth. Novak's name had been mentioned as a primary tutor for the foundation of a Model United Nations, for kids in range fourteen to seventeen.

So this is what Casey was doing- using her understanding of the law and more specifically politics and persuasion to teach children about international communications? Alex felt a stir of guilt in her stomach- not because of her earlier accusation of Casey being a coward, no, but rather at how the first thought in her mind was that it was a shame to see Casey's brilliance being squandered. Other people could do this task. If Casey was supposedly better than Alex, she should be doing something that demonstrated that prowess, not.. this.

Bitterly, Alex thought to herself not only was her assessment wildly unfair, but at the very least she should be happy Casey was in fact wasting her ability because that meant her own status would not be overshadowed by a fierce competitor. Perhaps Casey would've been in line for promotion, perhaps in the three years she had lost from her suspension she would've climbed ranks to a standing Alex wouldn't have been able to compete with. But no, she had gotten suspended, and now she was here- teaching children about the realm in which her presence was utterly lacking.

She was being unfair, really. Aiding developing minds was a noble pursuit. Alex should not be so critical. And she shouldn't be jealous, either, but she was. The monster stirred idly.

The center was bustling with activity despite it being a workday- Alex realized only when she got in that it was long past the end of school hours, the drive having consumed hours of her time, and thus children were tussling about.

The 'set-up' to which the parish receptionist had referred too was evident- the building was set up as one large room, despite it being two stories, with bookshelves as dividers between sections and glass for walls for the few places there were actual rooms. Large oak tables and metal chairs with plastic seats and backrests were scattered in a way that felt comfortable and almost overtly so, despite the fact it's obvious mild renovations were still undergoing. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad place for Casey after all, Alex thought rather sadly. It was comparable to the DA's office in the aura it emoted, the gnawing sense that something was happening, but with the hushed tones of students encouraging each other while studying or distracting each other loudly with entertainment or laughter, it felt warm in a way Alex was made slightly uncomfortable by. The stark luxury of the DA's office was also starkly missing- this place, interesting as it was, was certainly not comparable to the magnificent church outside or even Alex's place of occupation.

The pamphlet had said which section it was occurring in, and with clumsy direction and suddenly less conviction Alex found her way over there. The designated time had not started, but apparently schoolchildren were already making use of the room, milling about and chatting with each other.

Long, thin rectangular tables had been utilized to form a mock- courtyard, in a sense, forming a square in which all participants could see each other easily. At the head of the rectangle and different type of table was utilized the signal the chair's designation, as well as a rolly chair instead of the plastic ones the rest of the tables were accompanied by. Alex snorted at the resourcefulness, although it could also easily be simply the fact they didn't have enough of the same type of table.

"Can I help you, Miss?" A young girl with dramatically red hair and freckles piped up after a few of her friends had laid eyes on Alex with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. If this was intended for students aged thirteen to seventeen, she was more certainly on the absolute youngest side of the spectrum.

"Casey Novak teaches here, doesn't she?"

"Miss Casey isn't here right now," the girl responded, answering two of her questions- yes, she did teach, but no, she wasn't currently in the building. Or perhaps she was somewhere in the building, and this girl simply was not aware.

"Did you need something?" One of the older kids- a tall, lanky teenage boy, strolled forward, interrupting her attempted exchange with the smaller girl. So the children are protective of their own, evidently, either that or she was intriguing enough in her pristine court clothing and tall heels to pique the curiosity of another child who wanted to catch her attention instead.

"I'm a friend of Novak's," Alex began, rather self-importantly, and the lie felt strangely easy on her tongue- with how often she thought about Casey, it felt natural to say, but no, the two were not friends. "I heard she started teaching you all about international communications and wanted to see how it worked."

The boy shrugged, "I guess it's okay if you watch. We're not in session for another hour and a half, though. Come back later."

Something about this boy's tone was resurfacing the resentment stirring in her chest. She didn't particularly enjoy talking to older teens- younger children were sweet and naive and she sometimes felt the urge to protect them, but kids like this she wasn't particularly fond of interacting with. And he was trying to send her away? Shouldn't he know to respect his elders?

"What are you all doing here then, if a session doesn't start for so long?"

The little girl who was still eyeing her up suddenly glared at her, a sudden switch from the wary intrigue she had previously been exhibiting, and the boy's face flickering with some amount of distaste- perhaps the question had made him uncomfortable, somehow.

"Did Miss Casey invite you here?" The elder boy said, drawing attention from a few other children, and Alex felt suddenly a prickle of irritation down the length of her spine at his questioning. No, Casey hadn't, but she couldn't really explain that.

"I was a colleague of hers, back when we were both working for the district attorney of New York." A half-truth- yes, while Alex was SVU's ADA before her stint in witness protection, Casey had technically also been working for white collar, so they did in a ways work together, except they hadn't known each other then. "I wanted to come observe you all to see if her efforts were paying off."

She kept it lighthearted as if she were jesting, but she knew this boy wasn't stupid enough to not catch the subtle undertone of challenge her voice included- although the girl behind him was, who become rather intrigued by the idea of her tutor's past.

"Then how about I set up a little mock debate," the boy rose to her challenge suddenly, "and you can see exactly the lengths that her efforts have gone."

He extended a hand to her for a formal handshake, his voice firmly introducing himself as "Eric Conner, Chair of the Economics and Social Council."

"Alexandra Cabot, Assistant District Attorney to the Manhattan District," Alex responded coldly, shaking his hand with a firm grip that he returned. While his title was honorable as far as their play went, it was still only a piece of this mock debate, and Alex's title was real. The tone in her voice drove that point home.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was so irked by these kids, but as Eric Conner began assembling a few willing participants for a smaller version of a proper MUN debate, the beast gnawed idly at her ribcage.

Alex became particularly sure she did not want these kids to succeed in their debate against her. She initially hadn't been sure if Conner was setting up a mock debate for her to observe or to be involved in, but when he handed her a placard that said 'United States of America' and pointed her to a plastic chair, it became evident he did expect her to be a participant, and she riled slightly. These kids winning any sort of leverage was evidence that Casey had done better. This was noble work, nurturing the minds of the parish youth, and perhaps something in a moral sense that outweighed her own efforts in the law. If she didn't beat these children up in the oncoming verbal spar, it was almost as though she was letting Casey be better than her.

The second head of her monster groaned and creaked, nipping at her lung while the other remained vested in biting at her ribs. This was wrong. She was a bit past caring in her blind anger.

The debate began quickly. Eric Conner was the chair presiding, the little girl who had both glared and stared at her with different twisting emotions served as Germany, and other children of various ages represented other delegations from around the world.

"The Economic and Social Council is now in session," Conner began, straightening his spine and flicking his eyes down a few sheets of paper he had assembled before him- a script, perhaps, notes. Alex thought in the back of her head that that was sweet in a patronizing sort of way. "The agenda for today is ‘Reducing Economic Inequality Through Global Tax Reforms.’ Delegates are reminded to maintain decorum and adhere to the rules of procedure."

"We will begin with opening statements. Each delegate will have one minute to state their country’s position. The delegate of Brazil is recognized."

A girl- older by years than the one who Alex had initially engaged with, stood, a laptop clutched in her hands.

"Thank you, Chair," she began, hesitation evident in the quiver of her voice- her eyes flickered to Alex specifically, finding the intrusion of a much older, much wiser woman intimidating. She schooled herself out of it quickly, though, and Alex wondered bitterly if that was through some method Novak had taught her.

She could imagine Casey's sharp voice softening, taking on a motherly tone as she sat beside this sixteen-year-old, pointing out flaws and statements that wouldn't hold water with precision, and then turning to her reassuring her of her budding prowess. The girl must have been scared of public speaking, everyone was, and Casey probably taught her how to slow her racing heart and formulate words to drive her point into the skulls of her opponents the same way Casey had taught herself to do in open court. It made Alex angry, that thought. That reassurance Casey probably offered to this girl had been used on her in Casey's office all those years ago, and she now felt territorial, or at the very least upset at her own imagination.

"Brazil believes that economic inequality cannot be effectively addressed without tackling the exploitation of tax havens and corporate tax evasion. Multinational corporations siphon billions from developing nations ... " The teen kept talking, but Alex wasn't entirely listening. "Brazil proposes a binding global minimum corporate tax rate and stricter international cooperation to prevent such practices. This is not just an economic issue—it’s a moral imperative. I yield my time."

The debate proceeded with various other countries providing opening statements, but Alex just crossed one leg over the other in her lap, staring around at the children speaking with a mild degree of interest. She didn't feel as though she particularly had to pay attention other than to the storm cloud forming in her mind as her imagination helpfully provided her with images of Casey teaching, Casey smiling, Casey laughing in a way that felt like a taunt directed solely at her.

"The council will now debate the proposed amendment to the resolution, which adds the clause: ‘Member states failing to comply with the global minimum corporate tax rate shall face economic sanctions coordinated by a multilateral oversight body.’"

This part piqued Alex's interest, and she raised her placard with a flick of her wrist to indicate she had decided to finally become an actual participant in the mock debate they had started for her sake.

"The delegate of the United States has the floor," Conner said warily, his eyes flickering to the gaze of his peers.

"Thank you, Chair," Alex started firmly in a voice that wasn't very grateful, pushing her chair back to stand in the fashion the other students had exhibited, towering over the shorter, younger individuals.

"The United States strongly opposes this amendment. Sanctions are a dangerous and counterproductive approach. They punish populations, destabilize economies, and create hostility among nations. Instead, the United States proposes a more effective alternative: a multilateral compliance fund to support nations in meeting global tax standards and reputational penalties for violators. Let us build consensus rather than force compliance through coercion. I yield my time."

Conner eyed her, biting the inside of his cheek, and then glanced around to see which placards had been raised for a response- two girls, sitting side by side, who appeared to be twins caught his eye and he nodded towards them.

"The delegate of France is recognized."

"Thank you, Chair. France supports this amendment." A direct opponent to the stance Alex had taken, then. "The United States’ alternative lacks teeth," - oh, so she knew how to argue, too - "Without enforceable mechanisms, this resolution will fail to create meaningful change." Alex bristled, not by the fact she was being debated, but rather by the way this girl wasn't fumbling at all- and how internally that registered to Alex as this girl must have been under a plethora of lessons and reassurances from the faux blonde woman Alex had drove nearly four hours to chase.

Despite herself, her hand formed a small fist in her lap, fingernails digging into her palm as her brain forced the mental imagery of Casey's hand on this girl's shoulder as she discussed how to present an argument. Casey's hand- the lithe fingers that had been in Alex's mouth those years ago. It was a ridiculously unfair thought to have, but Alex was starting to realize everything she was doing was unfair, and that just pent her frustration up to an even higher degree.

"The U.S. talks about cooperation, but cooperation without accountability is meaningless. Sanctions are a necessary deterrent for nations and corporations that refuse to comply. I yield back."

Without accountability? And yet her tutor was the one failing to take any sort of accountability, fleeing to Rhode Island and disconnecting her old number, not a word to her friends.

Alex wanted to respond, but the chair had already recognized the girl's partner, the other half of the identical twins, who was representing Kenya.

"Thank you, Chair. Kenya echoes France’s concerns. The United States’ proposal for a compliance fund is insufficient. Developing nations lose billions annually to tax evasion by corporations headquartered in wealthier countries. Sanctions are a tool to level the playing field. We need action, not more rhetoric. I yield back."

It was somewhat of an empty statement, peppered with jabs at Alex's argument but made solely to back up the other girl, and they exchanged brief, conspiratorial smiles with each other. The sight of which softened Alex's anger slightly, replacing it with a twinge of guilt.

She shook it off quickly, though. Yes, these children were better at debate than she had initially summed them up to be, but asserting herself as a force more powerful than Casey was the reason why she was here. The chair allowed her to make a rebuttal, and so fixed the delegate of France- the stronger of the two- with a firm stare, the way she may look at a defense counsel, and the girl shrank slightly.

"Thank you, Chair. Let’s be clear: the rhetoric here is coming from France and Kenya." Both girls looked mildly conflicted, exchanging another small glance through lowered eyes at each other. Casey, evidently, hadn't taught them to master a poker face yet.

"They advocate sanctions without considering the collateral damage they inflict on vulnerable populations. The U.S. is offering a practical alternative that addresses non-compliance without harming the global economy. Sanctions don’t ‘level the playing field’;", despite herself, she made air quotes, an unprofessional taunt slipping through her facade as she watched the girls avert their gazes, "They create chaos. If this council is serious about reducing inequality, it must adopt solutions that promote cooperation—not punishment. I yield my time."

A round, brawler of a boy raised a placard, and the chair allowed him to respond to Alex's statement. His eyes were cold and hard, although a muscle in his temple was twitching, and his eyes moved a bit too hastily from the chair to meet Alex's eyes. He was trying to prove something by standing up to the fully grown esteemed woman biding her time arguing with school children.

"Thank you, Chair," he took an inhale Alex assumed Casey had taught him to take, "India finds the United States' proposal inadequate. Sanctions are not ideal, but they are necessary. Without strong enforcement, how will this council ensure compliance? The U.S. calls for cooperation, but corporations will continue exploiting loopholes unless there are consequences. I yield back."

Alex ran her tongue along the sharp edges of her teeth, glancing at the chair, who inhaled rather sharply and then defeatedly allowed her to respond.

"Thank you, Chair. The delegation of India asks how compliance will be ensured—here’s how:"

The boy had just presented her with the perfect window of opportunity to win, and she was fully aware of that, despite him apparently not recognizing that.

This was an unbalanced debate from the start- several delegates were immediately biased as to not allow Alex ground to stand on, seeing her intrusion as a threat (which, she supposed, was not an unfair assessment, she had decided to participate for nothing else but to put herself above the imagination-Casey in her brain). The children who weren't biased, though, ones who were genuinely trying to utilize her presence as a means to engage in better and more fruitful debate, would now listen to the epitome of her persuasion.

"Through global cooperation, economic incentives, and transparency. Let’s create a compliance framework that offers support for struggling nations, publicizes violators, and uses targeted measures like trade restrictions when absolutely necessary." She extended her hands outward, a contrast to the students all of whom had stood up with a laptop or a page of notes, her free hands being used as a tool to provide a fake open gesture while she fixed each child one by one with a rigid, ambitious stare. "Blanket sanctions hurt everyone and undermine trust. The United States invites this council to embrace a solution that fosters progress, not division."

She took an extra second to exhale, raising a brow pointedly at the Chair, who grimaced as he watched the debate spirit in several of his peers diminish. "I yield back."

It was silent for a long second after that, the fight in the majority of younger kids' eyes fading out and the knowledge they wouldn't be able to argue for much longer when Alex presented her true legal prowess like this budding resentment and resignation in several of the older children's eyes.

Alex slung one leg over the other in her chair, raising her eyebrows and scanning faces to see who her next adversary would be, except no one presented themselves for a response.

Slowly, the small girl Alex had first been speaking to raised her placard, and when Conner allowed her to speak she stood up with a shake in her little legs and a quiver to her bottom lip. Alex internally grappled with her sense of morality in the face of the knowledge she was verbally brutalizing these children's debate.

"Thank you, Chair. Germany commends the United States for its leadership in offering a balanced alternative. Sanctions should always be a last resort. Germany supports the U.S. proposal to establish-"

"Are you having a fun time bullying children, Cabot?"

At the sound of the low, raspy voice, golden honey coating sandpaper, every head in the room snapped to the entrance, where an expressionless Casey Novak stood, leaning against the doorway idly.

"Miss Novak!" a hushed murmur from some child Alex was not paying attention to, the end of small idle side conversations or undirected attention as Casey Novak commanded full authority over the focus in the room.

She looked tall in her heels, imposing in her own right, hair still dyed blonde, although she had ended her attempt to make it look like Alex's- it was a reddish, earthy color, landing between blonde highlights, brown hair, and the natural reddish tint that she seemed could never stray away from. She looked older, perhaps more tired, but simultaneously was glowing with the same energy that used to bring courtrooms bending down to her heels. Her coat was draped over her arm, cold green eyes like chrome tourmaline fixing on Alex's frame like a..., like something indescribable to the blonde, or perhaps her mind had simply short-circuited in her presence and thus wasn't able to muster up anything useful.

Unlike in her obsessive daydreams, Casey was not adorned in court clothing. The blazers and blouses Alex had assumed would be Casey's wardrobe before Casey had departed from legal occupation were missing, rather replaced by a woven cardigan with a turtleneck feature, blooming sleeves, and a taper around her waist to emphasize the high-waisted nature of her slacks. She looked like nothing Alex had imagined, Alex had visualized different clothes, different hair, different settings, and different emotions but one look at Novak's face allowed Alex to register that despite the stark disparity from her fantasy Casey was everything she wanted.

Casey did not smile- Alex supposed she had no reason to. She had no reason to indulge Alex in the obsessive ideal she did not realize existed.

Feeling awfully like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, Alex tried to return Casey's sharp gaze, but the faux blonde's eyes rested on her for a meager fraction of a second before instead softening to scroll over the faces of her students.

The small girl representing Germany left her post at the table immediately to fumble over to Casey, looking up at her for some reassurance, which the woman was pleased to offer her in full. Casey half-crouched down, her hands finding the younger girl's shoulders and squeezing softly before her eyes flicked up to Eric Conner's in a silent questioning. He shook his head slightly and Casey's brow twitched, but she sighed and didn't force the silent matter further.

A couple of other kids, although not straight up leaving the table, softened their eyes and sought approval from the former attorney, and she graced each one of them with the charity of her attention for a moment, offering a soft smile to some of the more anxious kids and a solid, firm nod to the ones who simply needed to know they had done okay.

Alex felt humiliated.

The monster that had divulged itself in her ribcage clawed and tore its way up through her neck into her skull, ripping apart internal flesh as it grew in size. Casey was right in front of her now- Alex hadn't realized she had risen to her feet until she was standing- and she was ignoring her fully, not granting her the acknowledgment Alex had come here to seek out. The children could see the sudden flush on her high cheekbones, but she couldn't control it, the feeling of claws on the inside of her face as her cheeks burned warm, breeding an overwhelming sense of irritation and wild discomfort.

Pay attention to me, she tried to tell Casey with her body language, the stiffness of her shoulders only increasing as her brow furrowed, head tilting downwards with childlike shame.

One head of the twisted beast behind her eyes cooed softly, longingly, I'm the one you're supposed to be comforting. I'm the one who needs you more than these kids do. The other snarled, latching into her nose and forcing a sharp exhale. I hate you. I'm better than you. How dare you avert your gaze from my direction. Pay attention to me.

Casey did not indulge her with that request for what felt like hours, although in all likelihood it was probably only a few seconds until the faux blonde turned to her, sighed, arched a brow, and gestured vaguely to the children as a signal for them to return to their own activities.

"Alright, Cabot. You had some reason for showing up- what do you want?"

You.

"Is there somewhere more private that we could have this discussion in?" Alex said instead of the growl that filled her throat, and with another sigh as if Alex was forcing her to pay taxes Casey turned on her heel, flicking her fingers in a 'come hither' motion and setting off.

Feeling awfully like a snarling dog being towed by a patient owner, Alex followed closely at Casey's heel, as they walked towards the front of the community center and then, to her surprise, out of it.

"They gave me an office," Casey muttered as if reading Alex's mind, "in the chapel."

"Oh-?" Alex tilted her head, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder, although Casey couldn't see that from how she was adamantly setting her gaze straight forward, refusing to turn and meet the blue eyes so fervently drilling holes in the back of her skull. "That seems.." As though she was revered, to some degree.

"It used to be a storage closet." Casey cut that thought in the bud bitterly, "So don't get your hopes up."

Despite it apparently having been a storage closet, Casey's office, albeit small and clearly having been burdened by the weight of time, was sweet.

Alex hadn't set foot in the chapel's large body, but behind it was another large section for administrative care, towering bookshelves, and a few parish assistants on computers or with large leather-bound books reviewing or editing whatever allowed the service to run smoothly. They looked at Casey with warm familiarity, and at her with mild confusion. This was Casey's space, not her's. Casey's makeshift office was up a small flight of insanely narrow and high stairs, on a hallway in which her door was stapled at the end as if an afterthought to make use of extra space.

The wooden walls had been revarnished sometimes recently, but scuff marks on the walls and floors lingered as evidence that something heavy like shelves had been removed from the space, indents of objects that had been removed to make way for Casey. It was a very small space indeed, barely measuring eight by six feet, and the traces of cleaning products hung in the air as a testament to the previous use.

Despite that, though, it felt warm. An old wooden desk had been pushed to the center of it, with a comfortable chair, and a small laptop Alex assumed Casey must've provided herself on the desk sitting next to an intricate antique lamp that cast a low, dim glow. The only other light source in the room was a high, narrow window made of stained glass- it must've been installed for the benefit of people looking from outside, though, because it cast odd-colored shadows on the floor, making her feel vaguely as though she was inside of a kaleidoscope.

Pressed against the wall was a bookshelf, filled with stacks of papers and binders, prayer books, and little knick-knacks like ceramic jars and little porcelain statues of holy figures. Other than this bookshelf, a heavily used dark burgundy rug on the floor, and the aforementioned desk and chair, the space was unfurnished. No memorabilia or evidence of Casey herself resided here, with the only exception being perhaps the laptop if it was in fact hers.

"Quaint," Alex tried to comment, but Casey simply snorted dismissively, finally turning around to face her. The faux blonde rested herself on the edge of her desk, her hands gripping the side of the wood as if to find some kind of stability in it, and despite now looking at Alex it seemed like her gaze was simply in her direction and her mind was somewhere else. She wasn't looking at her the way Alex wanted her to

"You've got nerve, I'll give you that much." Casey muttered, "I'll do you a favor by not asking how you found me- but really, why the hell are you here?"

"You disconnected your number," Alex said instead, taking a deep closer, avoiding the question simply because there was no coherent answer she could offer her.

And she didn't have enough brain space to come up with any sort of lie either, because the monster was ramming itself around against the confines of her skull like an impending migraine, desperate to escape to sink its teeth into Casey's throat the way Alex had done all those years ago on the couch in Casey's space within the DA's office.

"Olivia told me she had the end of my suspension marked on her calendar in a voice message she left me," Casey mused as Alex took another small step closer, almost predatorial, "I couldn't stand it anymore. Threw my phone out the car window."

"So you just left the rest of us to wonder?" Alex barked, harshly. "Couldn't spare at least something to let us know you were fine? Olivia's worried about you."

"She'll figure that out," Casey retorted dryly, crossing her arms. "Why are you here, Alex? What do you want?"

"Why didn't you come back?" Alex asked, again dodging, sidling even closer until she was a foot away from Casey against the edge of her desk, her neck bowed so she could look up at her accusingly.

"Why the hell would I?" Casey snorted, "It was obvious to everyone else I wasn't cut out to be an attorney- I could only fool myself for that long."

What? Alex felt her stomach twist at that. Casey... She had been so fixated on the vision of Casey taunting, Casey realizing she was beyond Alex's prowess and getting off on the thrill of superiority the way Alex herself used to. It felt like a startling revelation to hear such words of self-loathing leave the faux blonde's lips, the disgusted look in her jade eyes.

Instead of softening, though, Alex felt herself becoming more rigid, more furious. How dare Casey speak in front of her like that, when she must know deep down she had achieved greater. What sort of game did she think she was playing? Sulking had been fine for the years of her suspension but that was now over and it sounded somehow mocking, somehow twistedly defiant to hear Casey degrade herself still.

"So what?" Alex snapped, "You're just going to start working for a church in Rhode Island and forget the rest of us ever existed?" Unfair, she thought to herself, raising her voice like this was unfair.

Casey snorted for a second time, blushed anger settling on her cheeks. "I don't even work here!- I'm a volunteer they gave an office because they know I have nothing better to do."

"So you're living with your parents?" Alex felt the top of her lip curl up slightly with disgust, but Casey quickly silenced her with, "Boyfriend."

Alex froze, an invisible force dragging her a half-step backward, and she felt her shoulders and spine straighten in cold registration. The woman who had laid beneath her now had coupled with someone else, someone Alex did not and probably would never know. A life had been made here in Rhode Island, the tangible evidence being this romance, and Alex was in no way part of it.

Earlier, weeks before, she had known she might've needed to acknowledge the idea that Casey would've found a partner in the time the two hadn't seen each other, and she had told herself that she would accept that if faced with it.

She could not face this, however. She couldn't accept it.

Casey enveloped too much of her brain for her to back off now, not when she was right here, not when she was staring at her so truculently. Alex felt a growl build in the back of her throat that she only managed to control by instead muttering in a low, biting tone.

"Do you love him?"

"I'm supposed to, aren't I?" Casey chuckled wryly, her response more genuine than she expected, being caught off guard by her revelation. She averted her gaze once more, staring out at the stained glass window blankly. "I'm supposed to be a devout Catholic, and I refuse to be a failure on every front there is."

As she spoke, her fingers traced lower to toy with the front of her sweater, the pads of her fingertips trailing along the fabric above the layers of skin and muscle tissue that shielded her womb.

She was a Catholic woman, and Catholic women were expected to settle down with a man, avoid the strain of the workplace, and bear children.

Alex felt as though she may throw up from the bitter taste that exploded in her mouth, a slight undertone of panic filling her eyes. Casey had made it obvious earlier that children- not even her children, just the children of the parish, were a higher priority to her than Alex was. Her own child? Alex could never compete with that, not that she particularly even wanted to as a twinge of guilt, a taste of regret consumed her senses. She wasn't supposed to be here, she suddenly felt the need to flee.

"Are you-, Casey?" She dared not ask, but the words came out of her mouth regardless.

"No,” she sighed, and then added, “Not for lack of trying."

The faux blonde before her seemed frustrated by that, but more so defeated. She continued to avoid Alex's eyes, and with a slow exhale Alex realized the familiar expression in Casey's face- she recognized it from how it had looked on her in the mirror.

Throwing herself into arms that would hold her, her life ripped out of her hands- literally- in a new place in a home that didn't feel at all like hers. Accepting a man who had done nothing more than smile at her in the right way as a partner, trying to act as though she knew how to keep living after something had destroyed her sense of normalcy.

"How dare you," Alex bared her teeth, anger from her realization cutting through the regretful feeling and smashing it to bits. No, she did not feel bad for Casey anymore. She felt ethereal fury and adrenaline pounding her veins, the monster exploding against the confines of her skin instead.

She stalked closer, her hands suddenly finding purchase on Casey's hips to push her until she was sitting on the edge of her desk, Alex towering over her as Casey's thighs bracketed her legs. Casey looked as though she wanted to retort something, but the look that flashed with intensity in Alex's cold blue eyes caused her to hesitate, a flicker of bewilderment in her gaze instead.

"How dare you sit here and act as though you're this pitiful wreck of a woman when we both know full well you're not?"

"What the hell are you-" Casey tried to protest, but with an animalistic snarl from Alex's throat, she shut up quickly.

"Your conviction rate was higher than MINE." The blonde raged, her hands gripping the ridge of Casey's hips so tightly it must be bruising, it must hurt, but Novak did not fight her. "Even years later everyone still talks about the infamous fireball of Casey Novak, and what? This is what you're doing instead?"

"Alex-?" Her voice came out of a gasp, that feminine rasp that made Alex feel obsessively territorial. The idea that a man trying to breed her had heard this made Alex grip her that much tighter. She wanted to bite down so desperately, but she couldn't tell the woman off if her mouth was full of Casey's skin.

"How dare you sit here idling and letting someone you don't love hold you when you have people who care so much it- it feels-" she cut herself off and Casey inhaled sharply.

(It registered to Casey, only just now, the possibility that Alex had come here for her. All these years, she had assumed simply that Alex had pressed languished, open-mouthed kisses down her sternum as a means to an end, a distraction from the trauma she was going through, Casey's body a way to seek diversion from the ongoing anxiety. Casey had been more than willing to indulge her in this, but never for a moment had she considered that it was in any way possible or realistic that Alex had wanted anything other than that single night from her. That Alex might feel the strange sensation of longing the way she did, the undercurrent of wondering she was burned by as she thought about the blonde who felt so far away.)

Alex continued, then, "With people who care about you living in fucking New York still hoping you come back?" Alex's anger made her borderline incoherent, hissing and stumbling over her words, drawing her face ridiculously close to Casey's, so close she could feel the faux blonde's desperate exhale against her skin.

She was then interrupted as a phone from Casey's back pocket went off, releasing her hold on Casey's hips to pull back slightly, snapped out of the momentary loss of control before deciding, no, fuck it, she was gone, lost in her obsession, and that's how it would be for now.

Without waiting for Casey, who looked dazed and almost contemplative, Alex ripped the phone out of the pocket of her slacks, reading the name 'Vincent Doyle' on the screen.

Alex raised a single, pointed brow at Casey, her thumb hovering over the screen, the hand not holding the phone pressing against Casey's chest as to block her if she tried to move for her phone, which Novak did not even attempt to do.

"Is this him?"

The wordless look in Casey's eyes was all the answer she needed, and Alex picked up the phone.

"Sugar, I know you're with those kids, but can you-" A voice like churning gravel thrummed over the phone, and Alex imagined a broad-shouldered man with an unshaven beard, hair a bit too long to look proper in casual clothing because he didn't own anything else. The clicking of keys sounded in the background and Cabot could envision him typing in an office, trying to persuade his girlfriend to do something, his phone held by the junction of his shoulder as he didn't stop typing to talk to who he incorrectly thought was his woman. Alex grappled with her sense of superiority against the comparison of Casey, but no, she was definitely better than this one.

"She's breaking up with you," Alex said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion, and the man paused, the keyboard sound coming to a halt.

"Alex, I live with him-?" Casey bristled, a renewed burst of defiance that almost sounded like panic overtaking her previously numb expression, but Alex just raised the hand on her chest to extend a single finger to Casey's lips, silencing her protest.

She held the phone away from her face so the man couldn't hear what she said, and so the sound of his outraged yelling wouldn't distract her, turning to the muffled Casey with indignation in her voice.

"If you're not above moving in with a hook-up you don't particularly care for, then you'll be fine living with me. After all, that's what I am, right?" Alex paused for an argument that didn't leave Casey's startled face, "... I'm taking you back to New York."

Casey's features sharpened fiercely but she didn't say anything else, letting Alex's hand drop from her lips and allowing the blonde woman to return to her call.

"Shut the fuck up," Alex muttered darkly as she realized the man was still screaming furiously into the receiver, "I'll have someone drop by to pick up her belongings."

She hung up the call and tossed the phone aimlessly, intending for it to hit the desk but it fell onto the floor instead, where it didn't bother either emotion-ridden women further.

"Well," Casey said in a crisp, curt tone of voice, and Alex prepared to fight about what she had just done or at the very least argue against Novak sending her out and away, but Casey did neither of those things. The faux blonde reached and curled her fingers tightly around the fabric of Alex's collar, so tight her knuckles burned white, and dragged Cabot back to the edge of her desk, centimeters from her face.

"I guess there's nothing stopping this, now."

Alex pounced before Casey could, surging forward in a way that made Casey struggle to stay upright on the desk, her lips nipping Casey's plump bottom lip with heady, desperate vigor until the quarter-second later when Casey parted her lips wider to allow Alex's tongue into her mouth.

The first time they had kissed, it was hesitant, and soft, and they had separated every couple of seconds, soft eyes blinking open to ask 'Is this okay?' before being gently pulled back. They had been almost awkward at first, the moment having been initiated by a soft flirt that could've passed as a jest if one of them had wanted to avoid the heavy tension between them, but it had turned into a comforting exchange, Casey's hands slowly raising to cradle her face while Alex's hands slid to caress at her curve of her back, soft nervous breaths against overtly flushed skin like giddy schoolchildren having their first that sounded very out of place for two grown successful attorneys.

This was anything but. This was animalistic, Casey's hands clawing at Alex's collar, Alex's hands refinding Casey's hips and leaning, pushing, until Casey was teetering backward in a way in such her grasp on Cabot was the only thing keeping her sitting and not sprawled out on her back like she knew- like she hoped she was about to be. It had taken forever for anything more than lips to be involved the last time- this time Alex's tongue and teeth were pushing against her mouth in every way possible before she could close her eyes, Alex's fury building into the way she wasted no time.

"Fuck you," Casey spat when Alex separated momentarily to hiss and pant for breath, and Alex snarled back, "I hate you," but less conviction was in it. She kissed her again.

Three years ago, she had extracted power and dominance slowly and carefully, reassuring herself with Casey's soft little sounds, the two on equal footing until Casey allowed her to choose what position she'd rather play in the dance of warmth and comfort. Casey had been prepared to cloud Cabot's mind in a haze and fill her eyes with stars, but Alex had chosen to take Casey beneath her, decided that she wanted to hear the woman as she descended down the length of her torso, and Novak had allowed her that. She was on top, but her eyes flickered constantly up to ensure this was still okay, that Casey was not doing this purely to indulge Alex in something to distract her from the unrelated terror of facing the man who had almost killed her. Casey always looked at her as though Alex was some sort of angel, though, and thus she had continued.

The rush of ascendancy was something that became a lot more overt to Alex, now. She was on top, she was the one shoving Casey against her own desk, she was the one the faux blonde was clinging onto so she didn't fall. There was no question who was in control here, and Alex didn't have to check for Casey's enthusiastic consent, despite the fight blooming in the interaction Casey was a very willing participant and neither had anything to gain by only pretending to be into it. They both needed it more than the oxygen depleting from their lungs, evidenced by the way when they finally broke apart after minutes they were both flushed from breathlessness.

Alex's hands had explored Casey tentatively, last time, pushing at fabric while making eye contact, gentle and slow. She had been so hesitant, in fact, in her pursuit, that Casey had kept chiding her with amusement.

Casey's sweater had been flung into the bookshelf within a minute, and Alex slammed her backward onto the surface of a desk with a ferocity that made Casey groan and arch upwards into Alex's waiting mouth. Alex sank her teeth into the fabric of the younger woman's bra and pulled up and over, leaving the tangle of now-pointless fabric just above her sternum. The office which used to be a church's storage closet- they were still in a literal church- too fucking bad.

"Oh-," came the guttural, growling sound as Alex groped at the expanse of flesh before her, her fingernails digging into whatever she could as she roamed across Casey's chest, her ribcage, her waist, and her still-covered hips. It contrasted immensely with the sounds of Casey's soft mewls Alex had replayed in her mind the past months, but not in a way that dissatisfied her. No matter what erotic sound left Casey's mouth, Alex would eat it up like a woman starved.

"I hate you." Alex moaned breathlessly, nipping at what she could, clawing at what she could. "You infuriate me."

"Oh, really?" Came a snarky reply, "I'd assume you were aroused by me."

"Shut your ass up before I make you."

Casey snorted.

"I hate you," Alex began again, the sound of a zipper's teeth hastily releasing their hold overwriting the satisfaction she had felt slowly tracing each button on Casey's designer pants before popping it free last time, "the way you're so fucking talented but act like you're this whipped puppy."

Casey tried to wrestle up to respond to that properly, but Alex slammed her back down with enough force she gave up trying.

"Even though you do everything I was taught specifically not to unless I didn't want people to take me seriously you're this supposed unconquerable wildfire-" Casey made a sound of interjection, or perhaps she was just stifling a moan as Alex's hand separated the fabric of her undergarments from their rest on her hips.

"Hush." She scolded, not enjoying being interrupted in her barely coherent furious ramble, "-of a prosecutor who turns nothing into solid convictions-"

Despite her not allowing interjections, she cut herself off to extend her tongue to draw a line up the length of the cream-colored soft skin of Casey's abdomen and bask in the squirm that resulted, before continuing in her harsh bitter tone.

"-And to make that even worse the police act like you're some sort of fucking folkhero for going down trying to save one of them."

"Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to to drag myself out of the glorious shadow left by legendary Alexandra Cabot?" Her voice was sarcastic, rhetorical, raspy, and low.

It was the first time the bitter note to resentment- resentment at being compared, grief from other's struggle to differentiate two successful, powerful female attorneys as individuals rather than cuts of meat to turn around in hands to figure out which would be the better option- had shown through in Casey's voice, and it made Alex freeze, pausing with her fingers centimeters from somewhere interesting. She was unprepared for that response- she could stop now.

Casey rolled her eyes at Alex's hesitation and bucked her hips, lolling her head backward and off the other side of the desk, her multicolor hair spilling over the edge. Alex scoffed and indulged her, rough and ruthlessly efficient.

The faux blonde's shaking hand reached up to clamp over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to stifle the sounds brewing in her throat.

"You're a cunt," Casey snarled through her fingers, while Alex was knuckle deep in her's, and Alex snapped back "I always thought that I'd be the one you'd have to look up at but it seems like suddenly you're the one I need to compete with for space even though you got yourself fucking suspended."

Casey couldn't hold back an outraged whine, and it went straight to nurture Alex's ego. Her hips were bucking and writhing and Alex had to shift her free hand which she had been using to support herself leaning over the desk to push down on Casey's pelvis to keep her there.

"Fuck, Alex-" Casey choked, and Alex purred unsympathetically.

Last time, soft praise and reassurance had been all that left Casey's mouth, breathless gasps that Alex was beautiful, that she was talented, that she was good, that she was strong, that she was powerful, that Casey was her for the night. Alex had been content to stay silent, basking in the plaudits leaving Casey's mouth in such an erotic tone, but tonight- no, not tonight, it was barely five pm and the sun was still out- she was talkative as hell, and definitely not in the same way.

"And now- now what?" Alex continued, her voice almost mocking, biting, "Now you're hiding in a church acting like you're a victim in some conspiracy of the universe while leaving me to wonder about your absence and count days until someone managed to find some word from you."

Despite herself, possessiveness over a woman she had no claim to filled her tone.

"And you're letting some man fill you with seed so you can pretend that everyone who tells you that's what you were meant for is right- but it's not, Casey, you know that, god, you're stronger than any fucking defense counsel or other attorney I've ever met is, you're worth so much fucking more than being some man's subservient Catholic wife. Are you stupid? How could you do that to yourself?"

Every ounce of her obsession, every drop of toxicity made available in her body surged forth suddenly, and she leaned flat over Casey's form, her fingers still insistent and harsh, her clothed body pressing against Novak's vulnerable skin as she felt words building in her mouth that despite their ruthless intensity she could not hold back.

"And if you really needed a dick to stretch you impossibly wide open to make you feel good about yourself, it very well could've been mine."

Casey made the same sound this time as she did last, the muscles in her body contracting and springing open in the same way, the shallow pants from her parted, kiss-swollen lips as Alex finally relented just the same.

The faux blonde's arched back collapsed and hit the desk with a resounding quiet thump, her head rolling to the side, chest heaving with the effort of catching her breath.

The monster in Alex's brain was swept away on wide, blackened wings, satisfied, leaving her body the same way a demon that had been exorcized would. The angelic display of a post-orgasmic Novak before her cleansed the bitter resentment from her soul, leaving only a warm, tangled mess in its wake. She pressed both hands to the desk at either side of Casey's waist, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her bowed head as she panted, attempting to recover from the intensity of their exchange, her eyebrows knitting softly over her head, suddenly anxious.

She had gone really far, really fast. She had paid little if any attention to what she had just said, and that was something she never did- her anger resided exclusively inside her heart, and when she did see fit to exhibit it it was through carefully constructed clipped words. She'd have to seek forgiveness for what she had just done, surely, if Casey would allow her to she'd comfort her like anyone who had just had words in that sharp authoritative tone said to them must need to be.

But when Casey straightened, her hands gently raising to cup the sides of Alex's bowed face to tilt her features up to meet her, her eyes gleamed with some sort of breathless triumph, a spark of defiant life that hadn't been present before.

Casey laughed, then, suddenly, a bright sound straight from her heart, divulging in little chuckles, pressing Alex's face into her collar in a messy, loose embrace. Alex was so taken aback by this sudden disparity from her expectation her face broke into a soft, nervous smile and she scoffed gently into Casey's skin, smelling the haze of post-sex mixed with Novak's rich, dark perfume.

"Wow, you must really have it out for me." Casey teased, rearranging locks of Alex's hair back into place with quick, firm movements of her lithe fingers, and Alex took a moment to wallow in the woman of her fantasies being so soft with her, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry, Casey." Her tone was hushed now, shame creeping in like a dog tucking its tail between its legs, "That was a lot."

"It's like you fucked the fight back in me," Casey chuffed, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead and then forcing her to raise her head slightly so she could find her lips once again, "I haven't felt this alive in years."

It was softer, this time. Unlike the ferocious intensity from the previous former kisses, but lacking the hesitation and nervous undertone of their first, this kiss glowed with familiarity and deep emotion from the base of the heart that had been brewing for years and had finally burst into fruition. Alex felt herself leaning into it, tilting her head and parting her lips for Casey to explore the cavern of her mouth with her tongue, while she smoothed her hands apologetically over the small red indentations of her nails that she had made on Casey's torso.

Casey's slacks and undergarments had not left her body entirely, only tugged violently out of the way, and thus redressing her was easy. As Casey lifted her hips to pull the fabric back over herself, Alex stood straight and fetched the sweater from where she had haphazardly thrown it, offering it to her with a small tentative smile.

The faux blonde flexed her eyebrows teasingly, pressing a lingering kiss on Alex's cheek to distract her as she pulled the sweater back over her body, where it draped around her as effortlessly gorgeous as it had before.

"Casey, I'm sorry," Alex murmured again, and even though Casey shook her head she continued. "If I'm honest, I couldn't answer your question- why did I come here- because I don't know. But ever since my testimony, I just- I just knew I needed to see you again. I'll fix things with your boyfriend if you want me to and I can provide whatever reparation you request but I just couldn't stand to never see you again and I can't say goodbye forever to you."

"I mean," she hushed, apprehensive, because Casey was not obligated to stay in her life if she didn't want to. She had been very, very unfairly dismissive of whatever life the faux blonde had built here in Rhode Island, and if Casey preferred the lifestyle here she had cultivated, it would make sense to deny Alex her request. "I could say goodbye if that's what-"

"You're a real goob, you know that?"

"A goob?" Alex felt her nostrils flare, but out of bewilderment. "What does that-?"

"Vincent isn't my boyfriend anymore, he's my ex." Casey corrected, apparently having decided Alex's snap over the phone was an adequate breakup, "and you just fucked me silly after announcing to me with full conviction that I was moving in with you and you were taking me back to New York. Do you take back what you said?"

Alex didn't need to contemplate that, she just shook her head, looking at Casey with rounded blue eyes.

"Do you mind if I sleep in the drive?" Casey inquired casually, picking up her coat from where she had let it drop on the floor, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and picking up Alex's- Alex hadn't even realized she had flung it away from apparently she had- and picking up the phone Alex had similarly discarded on the floor and tucking it back into her pocket.

"Being pounded down made me tired." She finished casually, her tone that feminine, always teasing rasp, and Alex scoffed softly. "No, of course I don't mind."

As if something had just occurred to her, Casey spun on her heel and clasped her hands together in front of her chest, wide-eyed. "Oh, you do need to apologize to my kids, though. You really scared Eleanor. And I need to say goodbye to them."

"I..." Alex's cheeks flushed. Now that the overwhelming press of the beast against her organs had faded, the idea of facing the kids she had been verbally sparring with in some twisted attempt to assert herself as Casey's superior seemed overly intimidating.

Casey caught on to this and raised an eyebrow. "You did say you'd seek whatever reparation I suggested, right?"

The apology to Eric Conner, the Chair of the Economic and Social Council, and to Eleanor, the little freckle-faced faux delegate of Germany, as well as to the twins and the heavyset boy who had challenged her, was very, very sheepish. They seemed to accept it, though, or perhaps they were just distracted by Casey's abrupt farewell.

"But why are you leaving?" The youngest girl mumbled, her brow furrowed with concern, eyes flickering to Alex with a mild degree of accusation as though Alex was at gunpoint forcing Casey to uproot.

"Remember the story of The Prodigal Son? The one the youth minister read to you?" Casey murmured, crouching down and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Luke left home and engaged in reckless behavior. I didn't do exactly that- but I did leave home, and I was living in a way that wasn't honest with myself. I was worried I wouldn't be accepted if I tried to return. In that way, I was too proud to seek forgiveness in the arms of my father the way Luke did- but my angel," Casey cast a small, reassuring glance at Alex, "showed up to tell me it was okay."

"She doesn't act much like an angel," Eleanor grumbled, crossing her arms but apparently acknowledging Casey's story, although she did not want to seem like she was readily accepting Novak's departure.

The two women set off, then, finally, after Casey had comforted the children she had spent the last few years volunteering with and assuring them that the other tutors- so, Casey wasn't the only one, apparently, there were two others- were more than able to support their debate.

"You did noble work. You don't have to leave," Alex spoke softly. She didn't want Casey to have to detach from something that seemed as fulfilling as this, even though she hated that she was on the opposite end of a battle for priority with literal pitiful school children.

"A lot of these kids have troubled home lives." Casey averted her gaze, squinting into the distance, "So they spend time here instead of needing to go home. That's why I liked volunteering so much. God knows things would've been better for me if- well, anyway. But I loved being a prosecutor and the story I told was true."

She sighed, then, "I just.. I didn't really think anyone would be on my side if I tried to come back. Olivia and I were so adversarial at first, because she missed you so much, and then she got you back … and I know Donnelly and the judges I used to have reputance with I need to work doubly hard to restore. The longing for the fight of the courtroom never left, I suppose I just didn't think I had it in me to endure beration like that again."

She sent a crude smile Alex's way, "But I didn't break under you, did I?"

Alex awkwardly looked away, knitting her eyebrows over her eyes with the shameful sheepish expression she had made when apologizing to the children, rubbing her temples with her fingers awkwardly. "Sorry, Casey."

"When we're back in New York, you can show me just how sorry you are."

The elder blonde attorney waited in her car while Casey spoke to a parish assistant and the volunteer coordinator about her leave, drumming her fingers along the edge of the steering wheel apologetically for the way she had clenched her knuckles white around it earlier.

She looked up in time to see the younger woman strolling casually towards her car, and her mind flashed back to the imagination she had had years ago.

Casey's coat was slung over her shoulder, her purse over the other, and her hips swayed the same as Alex had envisioned them to. Adorned in comfortable clothes fitting for a facilitator of education, but now leaving entirely to join her back in the pursuit of law, Casey looked like a triumphant soldier- but at this point, if she was anyone's wife (perhaps that was moving a bit too fast), she was her's.

When Alex met her eyes, Casey's expression paused just the same way it had in her fantasy, the second between recognizing Alex was looking and reacting, and then Casey's face beamed into a broad smile. She pulled the passenger door open, swung herself inside, and then settled, clipping the seatbelt and crossing one leg over the other, peeking around Alex's car curiously before allowing her gaze to be caught by Alex's soft eyes once again.

The smile hadn't left her face, and Alex now returned it, somehow still shyly despite all that had happened. She pulled the car into drive and left the parking lot of the church, setting off for the long trip back to New York.

Alex had gotten her reunion, and exactly what she had wanted out of it, too.

#calex #casey novak #alex cabot #casey novak x alex cabot #law and order svu #svu #law and order special victims unit #lesbian

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