Liz Donnelly Fic

Fic: SVU "Pieces"

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 06:20:03 GMT

Title: Pieces
Author: cleo (cleo2584)
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing(s): Alex/Olivia
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 840
Summary: Alex pieces together what she can remember.
A/N: Set soon after Alex returns to SVU in season 10.
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

She brushed her fingers across her shoulder, touch whisper light before she drew them away and curled them into a loose fist. Raindrops were pooling and separating as they trickled down the cab window, which was fogging from her breath as she pressed her forehead to it. It was nights like this that Alex imagined phantom pains along with wisps of pieced together memories—the cold ground, Olivia above her, distant sirens.

The fears had strangely subsided since she had come back to the city, but without that to drive her, without looking over her shoulder and longing, Alex was left with wishes, with regrets that she did not like to admit. If she had stayed with Olivia that night and the night after it and the night after that… It had been a hasty decision, motivated by pride more than fear.

Alex closed her eyes. She uncurled her fist, letting her fingers splay across her lap. For a moment, she could almost feel Olivia’s lips, ghostly soft as they kissed each one. The cab was beginning to slow, but Alex closed her eyes tighter, trying to hold the moment. It was gone, and she was methodically reaching into her purse, pulling out cash. She didn’t bother with an umbrella as she hurried into her building.

The smell of her damp hair filled the elevator. Alex leaned against the wall, taking it in, breath catching as she flexed her fingers, remembering the feel of Olivia’s hair against them, the feel of her fingers pressing through the curls between Olivia’s legs. She had spent so long trying not to remember the warmth, the scent. And now, it was too easy only because she knew memory was all she would have left of it.

Alex was almost ashamed that she preferred it that way. The elevator bell seemed distant, but it pulled Alex away from her thoughts. She stretched her fingers before pushing off of the wall, rummaging in her purse for her keys. The lights came up automatically as Alex opened the door, and she stepped into the empty apartment, tossing her keys into a ceramic bowl on a table in the entry and slipping off her coat as usual.

She slipped out of her shoes, picking them to take them to her closet despite her inclination to leave them by the door. Instead of going back to the kitchen to find something to eat, she went into her bathroom, drawing a too hot bath. Alex took her clothing off, her fingers brushing her own skin. She shivered, thinking of Olivia’s lips on her neck. Had they done this before? Alex sat on the edge of the tub and let her fingers dangle in the water. She couldn’t remember; there probably hadn’t been time.

If there had… Alex closed her eyes as she sank into the tub. She let the water run for a few moments before turning it off. There were no bubbles to fill the room with their scent, with faint sounds as they popped. Alex could hear her own breathing, sharp as she laid back, nipples just above the water. She traced the line of her middle up, circling one nipple and then the other.

Olivia’s touch was always firm. Alex rolled her nipples between her fingers trying, failing to imitate it. She moaned softly anyway. When she sank deeper into the water, she pressed her hands down her body, feeling it as if it wasn’t hers, imagining, wondering what Olivia had felt. She pressed her palm between her legs, twining her fingers idly through her curls. And Alex wondered if…when Olivia had pressed her fingers into herself, had thought of Alex’s taste and of her touch. She pressed into her hand, pushing her fingers between her lips, gasping at the warmth of the water.

It was cruel to indulge, to delight in something that she had avoided, that she told herself she couldn’t, wouldn’t have. But Alex delighted nonetheless, just as she had done in her engagement bed and afterwards, when that ended. She began to circle her clit, sweat forming on her brow, her shoulders. She could feel Olivia’s tongue, her palms pressing her hips down, and Alex moaned.

She had met Olivia’s questions with cool avoidance, and she knew there could be nothing beyond that. Alex had longed for it once and sometimes longed for it still. But memory… She circled quickly, pressing into her own skin, knowing they had both moved on. As much as they could… Alex’s breath caught at the thought of Olivia pressing her fingers into her, pausing to moan her name. And she came, allowing a soft whimper that she only ever gave to the silence.

Alex opened her eyes to the too bright lights. She took drew in a quick breath and stood, letting the water drip down her sides as it cooled. What had happened next—languishing until the water grew cold, washing her hair? She couldn’t remember, but she had to be at the office early the next day.

This entry was originally posted at http://cleo.dreamwidth.org/543668.html.

Crossover Fic: The Mask and the Bell: Part II of III

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 04:08:56 GMT

Title: The Mask and the Bell: Part II of III
Fandoms: Law and Order SVU, Ugly Betty, Nurse Jackie
Pairing(s): Liz Donnelly/Claire Meade past, Liz Donnelly/Casey Novak past, Liz Donnelly/Eleanor O’Hara, Claire Meade/Casey Novak
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1,737 or 3,450
Summary: Claire Meade’s masquerade is the social event of the season year after year. While Liz intends to escape for the evening, she cannot avoid reminders, both pleasant and otherwise, of her past.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.

Part I

It was no surprise to Eleanor when Casey drifted away—or perhaps it was she who ha drifted. They had very little in common, save a mutual desire to make Casey’s mother uncomfortable. Therapy, Eleanor thought, was ridiculous, but it was simply what one did.

She moved without much thought to Alexis Meade. Tanner would undoubtedly ask questions about unresolved issues with Alex, and though Eleanor would indulge that with ridiculous and blatantly false stories, the instinct was a simple one. She was simply drawn to one of the most beautiful women in the room, just as she had been drawn to Alexis she had been the most striking man present.

Eleanor ran her hands down her hips, absently looking for lab coat pockets. Alexis smiled her way, and from the standpoint of a surgeon, Eleanor could not help but be impressed.

“Eleanor O’Hara.” Alexis kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“Do you know how hard it was to cobble this outfit together without using some God-awful synthetic?” From somewhere within the folds of her costume, she produced a cigarette and lighter. “They’re ridiculous, these themed things.” And with the cigarette lit, she felt a numb sort of rush.

Alexis laughed with a delicate air of something between politeness and knowing. “Orchestrated any emergencies so you can ruin the outfit in surgery?”

“Don’t I wish.” She rolled her eyes as she exhaled smoke. “No, I’m bloody in it...until the campaign runs out, at least. Have you brought a date?”

“I’m whoring the advertisers tonight. You?”

Eleanor smirked as she put the mostly intact cigarette out on a passing waiter’s tray. “Has it ever really mattered?” That she took quite a bit of pleasure in making people uncomfortable was something Eleanor had no problems admitting. But Alexis, as she suspected, was not biting. “I’m sorry; am I being indelicate?”

“Yes, but it’s what you do.” Alexis took her arm. “Come on, there’s someone you should meet.”

“Oh, God.” Eleanor resisted the pull. “Alexis, no. If I wanted to meet people, I would...I don’t want to bloody meet people.” She hadn’t wanted to meet Alex when they were introduced, as far as she remembered. But Alexis knew that whining was not a flat out refusal, and Eleanor’s curiosity was mildly piqued. “Just don’t introduce me to some,” she rolled her eyes as she spoke, “vapid model—male or female...unless he or she is endlessly amusing.”

Alexis smiled that smile—even with the reconstruction, Eleanor recognized it. Their affair had not been a long one, but it had been a great deal of fun. Eleanor knew mischief when she saw it.

*****

Almost the moment Casey reached for the handle, the door to the coffee shop flew open, bells clanging in the late summer wind as someone, leaving with a cup of coffee in each hand, brushed past her. She wrestled the door closed, hoping either that her mother was not there or that she wasn’t making as much of a scene as she thought she was.

She ordered a cup of the drip, making sure to get it to-go. It wasn’t often—or ever really—that her mother wanted to meet somewhere outside of her office or home, so Casey was more than sure whatever it was would be disastrous. She did not, however, see Tanner at all. Good. Something had probably come up, as it so often did.

After stirring sugar into her cup, Casey debated heading for the door, dodging any possibility that her mother might arrive late. But she noticed a woman standing, smirking in her direction.

“Casey Novak?”

Casey cocked her head. “Do I...know you?”

“No, not at all.” She put one of her hands on her hips. Two thousand dollar pumps and a pencil skirt, with the ego to match—Casey knew a doctor when she saw one. “You’ll have to forgive me...I bribed your mother’s secretary to make this little appointment.”

“Right...” Casey blinked hard. She didn’t know what would be worse, one of her mother’s colleagues or a patient. “I’m just...gonna go.”

“Look,” the woman said, stepping forward but not blocking Casey’s path, “my name is Eleanor O’Hara. I’m one of your mother’s patients, but, “ she waved her hand dismissively, “not one of the fucking nutjobs. We both know this will drive Tanner absolutely insane, so just have a cup of coffee with me so that I have something to talk about during one of our ridiculous therapy sessions.”

She should have walked out, but Casey found herself sitting. There were very few people who would so openly screw with her mother, so any of her better judgment was eclipsed by a curiosity that she knew could turn into respect.

“Oh, good.” Eleanor sat and took a cigarette and lighter from her purse. She lit up like she owned the place, and if anyone noticed, Casey couldn’t tell. “I’d hate to see how self satisfied she would look if I told her you walked out. There’s nothing worse than a smug shrink,” she said before taking a long drag and throwing her head back as she exhaled.

“Do you even...sleep with women?” Casey asked, forgetting any sense of decorum.

Eleanor, however, did not seem remotely offended. “Oh, God, aren’t you simply delightful?” She chuckled appreciatively and ashed into her half empty cup.

*****
Liz was impressed with how easily Eleanor made herself comfortable on the pillows in the little nook she had been haunting since talking with Claire. There was something about the way her skirt fit her hips that didn’t suggest ease of movement.

“So, you’re this infamous woman I’m supposed to quite enjoy,” Eleanor said. Liz raised her eyebrows but she didn’t get a word in before Eleanor had a cigarette between her lips and a lighter in her hands. “Well,” she said around the cigarette, “I quite enjoy that costume at least—clever, that.” She gestured towards Liz, cigarette between her fingers.

“I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or a proposition, so thank you, I think.” She smiled. Charmed wasn’t the word she would use, but Liz was certainly intrigued by Eleanor O’Hara. “So, you’re the one who used to date Alexis…Alex, rather.”

She nodded. “Alex, yes. But don’t get me wrong,” she said after exhaling a stream of smoke, “I wouldn’t mind a turn in the sack with Alexis Meade, were she interested.” She smirked. “Are you interested? God knows Alexis made it seem like you would be.”

Liz licked the center of her lips as she considered this. Was she? Perhaps. The forwardness didn’t put her off in the least bit, but the fact that Eleanor had come with Casey was reason enough to give her pause. “Did you lose your date?”

“My date,” she began, gazing forward as she leaned in to snub the cigarette at the base of a candle on the low table, “is a big girl with her own interests.”

Upon following Eleanor’s gaze, Liz could see Claire offering Casey a drink. She knew that smile and the way Claire let her hand sit carelessly on her hip. But she looked away before she focused on Casey’s face.

Eleanor was raising her eyebrows. “Well, you certainly seem to know something that I don’t.”

“I’ve got a room,” Liz said, words clipped. She stood, less easily than she would have liked, and offered her hand to Eleanor.

Liz noted that Eleanor almost managed to look put upon as she took her hand and stood. She smoothed her skirt where it didn’t need smoothing and took a breath. “Oh dear. This isn’t going to be one of those…messy situations that involves some sort of retribution for…something. Where you fucking her?” She snickered. “I bet her mother loved that.”

“Are you coming or not?”

Eleanor smirked. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it.”

*****

Eleanor was easy to find in the crowd, but Casey’s eyes were on Liz as the two of them slipped out of the tent. She knew Liz’s walk; she knew the curve of her shoulders even under a soldier’s shirt. Her fingers curled in response to the memory of touching the hair at the nape of Liz’s neck.

She couldn’t find the energy to be jealous. What Liz wanted was outside of the realm of her concern, and she was tired of regret and guilt. She had tried to make herself numb, ignoring the implications of that, but she couldn’t be numb. She couldn’t keep herself from wondering if Eleanor’s advances toward Liz had been as insincere as they were toward her. Casey had suffered Eleanor’s abrasiveness with a lukewarm feeling of resentment towards her mother, who had offered nothing when it seemed like everything in Casey’s life was falling apart.

“Is pensive a part of the ensemble?”
It was Liz’s voice and not—a higher cadence, a less straightforward undertone. Casey turned, blinking at the woman who had spoken. She wasn’t Liz, but the resemblance was more than striking.

“Not entirely.” She pushed her thoughts away, not wanting to ruminate on what had happened if it was so plainly going to show on her face. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.” The woman smiled knowingly. “Casey Novak, I presume.”

She offered her hand and Casey took it. It wasn’t as if people recognized her on the street, even after what happened had been in the papers. She dismissed pondering the connection, however. The heavy air made such thoughts draining.

“Seems like you were afforded an advantage.” Casey smiled as she released the woman’s hand. It was softer than Liz’s would have been, but it had been years since she had had such a formal touch from Liz.

“I’m your host,” she said, withdrawing her hand a moment later.

Casey’s eyes widened with recognition. She wondered briefly if Claire was the doppelganger Liz had mentioned having college, but that seemed too coincidental. And Casey chastised herself for automatically going to the memory of Liz, even with what the woman in front of her looked like.

“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Meade.” She looked around, wishing she had a drink. “This is all…well, it certainly sets a mood.”

Claire tilted her head, and Casey wondered what the older woman was thinking as she regarded her. “One that evidently makes beautiful women thoughtful. Dare I ask what those thoughts entailed?”

Casey laughed lightly as she shook her head, wondering if the situation was about to become even more surreal.

This entry was originally posted at http://cleo.dreamwidth.org/543188.html.

Fic: SVU "Challenge"

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 18:35:27 GMT

Title: Challenge
Pairing(s): Alex Cabot/Patrice LaRue
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,384
Summary: Alex faces Patrice LaRue for the first time in and out of court.
Spoilers: Spoilers, such as they are, for 10.18 “Baggage.”
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

If the exchange itself hadn’t been infuriating enough, the outcome was enough to put Alex in a mood. But it was when, through the corner of her eye, she caught Patrice LaRue smirking that she became absolutely livid. She began to clench her jaw to the point of pain as she shoved her notes into her case. Stabler and Moran were bearing down on her, but Alex pushed through them when she turned. Both men were practically stepping on her heels when she stepped into the hall.

“Alex…”

She pursed her lips but didn’t stop. “Either find me another suspect or figure out how the hell Occuro could be in two places at once,” she said, words clipped.

“He’s our guy, Alex,” Elliot said as he took hold of her elbow.

At that, she stopped, facing him as she drew her arm away. “Figure. It. Out.” Alex looked from Stabler to Moran before turning on her heel. “I have things to take care of.”

*****

When she walked into her office, slamming the door behind her, Alex found LaRue, hands clasped behind her back, admiring the art. She slid her bag off of her shoulder, letting it hit her desk as she put her hands on her hips.

“Who the hell let you in here?”

Patrice turned, and if Alex had expected to find the smug look she’d last seem gone, she was sorely disappointed. “It’s a busy office, Counselor.”

Alex pursed her lips. She didn’t bother to disguise her actions as she glanced over her desk, trying to note anything that was out of place. Whether or not LaRue thought Alex trusted her was the least of her concerns.

“Your detectives,” Patrice said, stepping into Alex’s space, “are continuing to harass my client.”

Alex scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head, but she didn’t back down. “Your client is a serial killer.” Unconsciously, she flicked her eyes up and down Patrice’s body, only registering what she had done when she realized just how attractive opposing counsel was. Alex had to consciously stop herself from reaching to do up the button that probably shouldn’t have been unbuttoned.

“You can’t prove that.” There was that smirk again, as if Patrice knew just what Alex had been thinking.

“I will,” she said, too incensed by Patrice’s expression to offer a smirk of her own as she closed the already minimal gap between them, “and you know that when I do, your client will never see the light of day outside a prison wall again.”

Patrice began to toy with the button, rolling it between her fingers. “Your detectives have fucked up before…or so I hear.”

Alex licked her lips, letting a silence that grew a beat too long hang between them. She tried to keep her eyes off of Patrice’s fingers, but the distraction—a slight thing in the wake of all that weighted the moment—continued to draw her eye. Finally, Alex stepped forward, holding Patrice’s eyes as she pushed her back against the desk. Whether or not it was rational never surfaced against Alex’s anger as she cupped Patrice’s face and kissed her forcefully.

Vaguely, she registered surprise when Patrice pressed back with just as much force. Alex gripped her bun, working her fingers through it until tendrils of hair began to fall. She wanted to shut her up, wanted…wanted to act where she knew it was out of her hands until Stabler and Moran did something about that. But Patrice wouldn’t completely give in. Alex felt Patrice gripping her hips, pulling her forward. The woman was encouraging her, and when Alex realized that, she pulled away, trying to smooth her jagged breaths.

Blinking, Alex smoothed her jacket and licked her swollen lips. She struggled for something as the possibilities ran through her mind. LaRue could claim sexual harassment, but that was probably the least of it. And the worst was that Alex didn’t know, didn’t have any way to tell if she would.

“Keep your people under control, Cabot.” Patrice ran her fingers through her hair before pushing off of the desk. “They’ve got a serial killer to find.”

Alex stepped away from the desk, taking a deep, silent breath as she went to open the door. “See you in court.”

*****

The situation wasn’t ideally what Alex wanted, and she only presented the option after pacing in front of the DA’s desk half an hour trying to fight it. Patrice, Alex noticed, managed some balance between stoicism and annoyance.

“Take life…or take your chances with lethal injection; that’s all I’m offering,” Alex said finally. The afternoon had worn on, and she was ready to simply be finished with the case.

Patrice pursed her lips, and Alex stepped away, biting back a heavy sigh as she let LaRue and Occuro confer a final time. She rubbed her forehead as she caught herself glancing up, eyes training down the line of Patrice’s neck to the V in her shirt. She allowed that the long day, rather than her encounter with Patrice earlier in the week that made for the distraction.

And with just the paperwork to finish, Alex found herself again alone in her office with Patrice. At least this time in was on her own terms. She rounded her desk, feeling less heavy than when she had left to present the deal. It would all be over in the time it took Patrice to sign the paperwork, and Alex had a pen ready.

“You’ll find everything in order.”

Patrice took the paperwork but let the pen rest where Alex sat it. She perched on the edge of the desk, almost nonchalant as she looked through what Alex had given her. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

Alex raised her eyebrows as she watched Patrice cross her legs. She sat back, a little too determined to appear nonchalant about Patrice wasting her time, and she let her eye be drawn by the length of Patrice’s leg, her imagination idly and of its own volition filling in the details obscured by Patrice’s skirt.

She almost missed a beat when Patrice looked up, but Alex caught her eye, mimicking Patrice’s own smirk as she slid the pen forward. The fingers touched briefly, pressure too deliberate to be merely circumstance. As if to demonstrate as much, Patrice stood and leaned almost elegantly over the desk to apply her signature without flourish. Alex’s breath caught, to her dismay, audibly.

“Was there anything else?” she asked, pen still poised as she looked up, almost expectantly.

Alex licked her lips and stood. The air between them had gotten thick; she quickly got her things together, attention more focused on Patrice as she straightened. “That’s all for that.”

“Excellent.”

Both women headed for the door, reaching for the knob at the same time. Alex found her fingers brushing Patrice’s wrist as suddenly the space between them was miniscule and warm. She was going to offer a cursory apology and open the door, allowing Patrice to step out first, but Patrice was smirking again, this time with her eyes directly trained on Alex’s.

The moment seemed poised between time, and Alex could acutely feel the heat of Patrice’s skin. She grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer and twisting it behind Patrice’s back as she kissed her. This time, it was Patrice twisting her fingers through Alex’s hair. The sting made Alex moan softly in delight, but she dropped her case in order to take Patrice’s wrist, pulling the blonde’s hand out of her hair and twisting it behind her back to meet the other one. She pressed her body firmly into Patrice’s, breaking the kiss without moving away.

“I think it’s time to go get a drink.” And to her surprise, this drew a whimper from Patrice. Alex smirked as she pulled away, opening the door and stepping aside. “After you.”

She could almost see Patrice trying to regain her composure as she stepped out of the office. Alex took a moment, picking up her case and glancing back at the office before following. Patrice was running her fingers through her hair as she took measured steps towards the elevator. The sound of her own heels clicking pointedly filled Alex’s ears, and she wondered just how long she could manage to keep on top of this.

This entry was originally posted at http://cleo.dreamwidth.org/542492.html.

Fic: SVU "Undone"

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 06:19:16 GMT

Title: Undone
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing(s): Alex Cabot/Patrice LaRue
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,587
Summar: Patrice doesn't like losing, and Alex knows precisely how to deal with guilt.
Spoilers: Possibly minor spoilers for 11.5 "Hardwired."
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

The only thing that was missing from the little jazz club was smoke hanging in the air, but Alex could live without that. She slid into the booth in the back corner, where the candle on the table was reflected in an empty glass at the end. Before sinking back into the leather cushions, she slid her case off of her shoulder and shrugged her jacket off. Alex was silent for a few moments as the pianist drew out the last strains of “Misty” while she was drawing in a breath.

“I see you started without me.”

“I knew you would be late.” Patrice LaRue looked up from the half full glass of vodka in front of her as she circled the rim with her fingers.

Alex pursed her lips as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I had a few things to finish up at the office.” She glanced up at the approaching waiter. “Dry martini on the rocks with a twist, please, and,” she glanced back to Patrice to find, as she suspected, that she had finished, “another vodka, neat.”

“Right away.” The waiter turned on his heel and the trio was already well into their next piece. Alex crossed her legs, the toe of her calfskin pumps brushing Patrice’s shin.

“A pedophile is being sent to prison,” she said as she pulled the candle closer and idly ran her fingertips over the flame. “I can’t apologize for that.”

Patrice was watching her fingers; Alex didn’t have to look to know. “I don’t like to lose.”

The quality of her voice, the way she clipped each word and ended with a low dip in tone never failed to make Alex shiver. It had made the trial difficult even when she was generally so good at compartmentalizing. Alex had been on her knees before Patrice, but she could put that out of mind…until the sound of the other blonde’s voice immediately brought it back.

“No, I imagine you don’t.” None of them did, but Alex knew better than to point out as much. And luckily to waiter kept her from pressing the issue. She accepted her drink, running the twist of lime around the rim before squeezing and dropping it into the drink. She glanced at Patrice before lifting her glass slightly. “To…”

Patrice clinked her glass against Alex’s. “Your win, naturally,” she said almost numbly.

“I was going to say ‘a night alone…finally’,” Alex replied. She sipped the martini, letting herself simply take in the taste of the gin for a moment before sighing almost contentedly. Patrice’s vodka, however, remained on the table.

She caught Patrice’s eyes, or rather, the blond caught hers, holding her in a gaze that made Alex squirm. “I can barely look at myself, Alex. I’m not precisely sure what to think.”

“Think,” Alex said as she pursed her lips while she leaned forward, “that you had that jury until Cory walked into that courtroom.” She wasn’t precisely admitting that it had been a tactic, but Alex knew that wasn’t lost on the blonde.

Patrice picked up her glass, studying it for a moment before looking back to Alex. “That’s part of the problem.” Alex broke her gaze as the long list of things she had done, things she never thought she was capable of justifying came to mind. And she was one of the good guys.

The trio moved to “Devil May Care” when Alex hadn’t been paying attention, but the persistent whisper of percussion brought Alex back to the moment. “You could have had a mistrial.” And perhaps Alex had taken a gamble in hoping that Patrice wouldn’t push. She moved closer, suddenly feeling guilty for the presumption, for letting that little bit of the personal influence her decision.

Alex didn’t wait for a response. She ran her fingers up Patrice’s thigh, underneath her skirt. “Just come home with me tonight, Patrice,” she said, voice indicating that she wasn’t prepared to take a refusal. Patrice met Alex’s eyes once more before finishing her drink quickly.

It was cold in the cab, but Alex didn’t mind the bite. She sat flush with Patrice, one hand resting on the other blonde’s thigh. Alex knew what she would want if she were in Patrice’s position, and she hoped that instinct wasn’t wrong. The silence that had fallen between them since leaving the club wasn’t as comfortable as Alex would have liked. But she let it stand, left Patrice to her thoughts until they arrived at her building.

Alex paid the cabbie and headed inside, nodding to the doorman, who also nodded to Patrice. Once they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them Alex turned into Patrice, stepping just into her space.

“We can go up and go to bed…and you can keep wallowing,” she said, leaning in closer until her lips brushed Patrice’s ear, “or we can forget about this and enjoy our night.” And if Patrice wanted to think of the evening as soon sort of atonement for not pushing hard enough, Alex was content with that.

She could hear Patrice draw in a jagged breath, and she smirked, lips curling slightly against Patrice’s skin before she pulled away. The doors opened just as Alex pulled away, and she turned without giving Patrice a glance. And once she unlocked the door, it was routine—a young routine, but one Alex did not mind having slipped into. She took off her coat and hung it in the coat closet, reaching for Patrice’s to do the same.

But instead of slipping out of her shoes and heading to the kitchen after she closed the door, Alex glanced up at Patrice, almost predatorily. Alex had been waiting for this chance ever since Patrice took her over her desk; the trial had simply made that wait longer than anticipated. But Alex was never put off by anticipation.

Without warning, she pressed Patrice back into the door, pinning the other blonde’s hands back flat against the wood. She kissed her hard, tasting the faint tin of what was left of the vodka. Alex felt Patrice responding, meeting the kiss with just as much force as she pressed her hips forward. When she broke the kiss, Alex pressed her own hips forward, more firmly pinning Patrice.

“I take it that you don’t want to go to bed.”

Patrice’s voice was low, breathy. “No,” she said, each of the next words coming clipped and sure, “that’s not what I want.”

Alex smirked as she moved her hands from Patrice’s, fully expecting the blond to hold her arms flush with the door. “Good.” She ran her hands firmly down Patrice’s sides, fingers tingling for want of feeling her bare skin.

A low moan escaped Patrice’s lips as her eyes fluttered closed. Alex could see the wear of the past few weeks on her face and was sure she was showing the same signs. But as she slowly pushed one of her hands down and back up Patrice’s thigh.

“Be still,” she said in a smoky whisper against Patrice’s ear. Alex brushed her fingertips lightly across the other blonde’s panties—wet, just as she expected, as she herself was. She scraped her fingernail across Patrice’s clit, feeling the fabric of her panties saturate. At that, Alex didn’t wait, didn’t want to wait. She pushed the silk aside, pressing two fingers firmly inside of Patrice without pause.

And Patrice’s uninhibited moan was what she had been waiting for. But to her credit, Patrice’s hands didn’t leave the door. Alex smirked, waiting for their jagged breaths to fill a beat before she began to thrust.

She started kissing up Patrice’s jaw, breathing in the subtle scent of her shampoo. Patrice’s shirt was still buttoned, and while Alex fully intended to undo that, she found herself running her free hand back up Patrice’s side, stopping to untuck the shirt but not pushing underneath it. Her thrusts continued apace as she raked her fingers firmly through Patrice’s hair, moaning softly while kissing the tender skin underneath the blonde’s ear.

“God, Alex…” Patrice’s voice was strained with her desire to move, to squirm under Alex’s touch, and upon hearing that, Alex could not help but moan. She kept thrusting, pressing her body as close to Patrice’s as she could and untangling her fingers from Patrice’s hair to brace herself against the door.

“Don’t move,” she whispered, a warning as she felt Patrice tense to wrap her arms around her. And as a reward for the blonde resisting the instinct, she pressed her thumb to her clit. Her own desire was making Alex imprecise, her thrusts becoming uneven as she pressed harder. What she wanted was to see Patrice come undone, to make her let go.

Alex kissed underneath her ear, pressing her lips to the soft skin, then her tongue, marking Patrice until she felt the blonde shudder under her touch, tensing fully and releasing. Patrice was wrapping her arms around Alex, moaning into her shoulder, but Alex was too dizzy with simply feeling Patrice’s orgasm to mind. They folded to the floor, Alex pulling Patrice into a kiss.

“Mm, bedroom,” she whispered, but Patrice pulled her into another kiss, pressing Alex to the floorboards. Alex shuddered when she felt Patrice push her thigh between her legs.

“Not just yet,” Patrice said, pressing her weight into Alex as she pushed her hands underneath her shirt. Alex moaned, happy to let Patrice deal with the day this way. They would get to the bedroom…eventually.

This entry was originally posted at http://cleo.dreamwidth.org/541280.html.

Crossover Fic: The Mask and the Bell Part I of III

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 04:48:16 GMT

Title: The Mask and the Bell: Part I of III
Fandoms: Law and Order SVU, Ugly Betty, Nurse Jackie
Pairing(s): Liz Donnelly/Claire Meade past, Liz Donnelly/Casey Novak past. Casey Novak/Eleanor O’Hara implied
Potential Pairings: Liz Donnelly/Eleanor O’Hara, Claire Meade/Casey Novak
Rating: PG for Part I (NC-17 for the entire piece)
Word Count: 1,713
Summary: Claire Meade’s masquerade is the social event of the season year after year. While Liz intends to escape for the evening, she cannot avoid reminders, both pleasant and otherwise, of her past.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Author's Note(s): My intent was to write a fic for akte’s prompt—SVU, Liz/Casey, masquerade—for femslash_today’s kink meme. While the prompt and original intent certainly pervades the piece, it has become clear to me that this will be longer than a ficlet or vignette. So, I’ll be posting it in parts.

The soft, ripe light of dusk filled the room, tinted deep blush by the gossamer that hung in careful folds from the ceiling. The effect was enough that no one spoke above a murmur, and the partitions of fabric and the huge, ornate pillows strewn about the carpeted floor only dampened the sounds. Braziers filled with rose and grapevine trimmings burned, and Liz breathed the sweet smell from where she lounged at a low table.

It was easy to believe that she was sitting in the tent of a sheik rather than the decorated courtyard of a Manhattan hotel. She wore the desert uniform of an English officer of the 1920s, as well as a thin, gold mask to cover her eyes. Liz had been coming to Claire Meade’s masquerades for quite some time, but she had never been quite as pleased by the theme. From her pillows she could see sultans in jewel-clasped turbans, adventurers, and couture slave girls.

She watched a sheik in a ruby studded mast approach. Liz did not need to see the woman behind it to know that it was Claire. She could tell by the swing of her hips, by the practiced and unwavering steps. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or maybe the spiced wine that made Liz’s legs feel heavy as she got to her feet. She smiled nonetheless as she bent in a low bow.

“Your highness,” Liz said upon straightening.

“Colonel...” Claire smirked. “Really, Liz, I would have thought you were more of a General.”

Liz laughed lightly while she watched Claire take a glass of champagne from a shirtless waiter passing with a tray. “I try to stay away from unnecessary responsibilities.” She nodded towards her pillows and joined Claire in taking a seat, readjusting herself in order to see both Claire and the entrance to the tent. It was getting dark now, and the firelight was beginning to make the tent glow and dance.

“Of course you do, dear; we all do at our age.” Claire took a long sip and closed her eyes. “Bradford and I went to Beirut once...when we were younger, of course. I like to pretend it was like this.” She flourished her glass, and Liz wondered if it was her first. Claire’s alcoholism was no secret, but how she managed it was another story.

“What was it really like?” she asked, leaning forward enough to feel Claire’s warmth.

“Bradford managed to meet Fey, and I found a nice young man with which to smoke some lovely...tobacco from a hookah.”

Liz raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure the two of you only smoked...”

“Don’t be silly, Elizabeth. I wasn’t interested in him; I was after his wife.”

An easy silence fell between them as Liz's chuckle dissipated into the air. She took another sip of wine, letting it warm her throat. It had been a long time since Smith, but in moments like this, Liz found it easy to imagine that they were back there. Claire had been in her orientation group and always better dressed—that part hadn’t change even though a lot had.

She and Claire had been infamous for switching places—posing as each other for anything from Claire’s sorority functions to Liz’s dates with men and sometimes even lectures. Now their spheres only intersected for select social functions. It was comfortable—neither had time for the peculiar intimacy of those formative years. Looking at Claire was no longer like staring at her rich, identical, fantasy twin, but perhaps that was because Liz had become too familiar with her own reflection.

In that moment, their gazes were turned in the same direction. Liz watched Alexis Meade dance with a man she could only assume was an advertiser—something about the cut of his suit—and who was comically shorter than Alexis. But she somehow managed to make it all seem graceful. It was remarkable how much she looked like a younger Claire, and Liz couldn’t imagine what Claire was thinking watching, if it was her daughter she was watching in the first place.

She remembered baby Alex in a murky way, but she knew it was quite different for Claire. Motherhood never seemed like it was for either of them, but then again, they had drifted to their comfortable distances after Alex was born.

And Claire had shown up at her door when Alex became Alexis. It wasn’t that her son was now a daughter that led Claire to Liz’s bed...it was shock, relief, and the memory of grief never quite healed. She wondered, as her eyes drifted down Alexis’s legs and back up again, whether Claire would mind if Liz found a way into her daughter’s bed.

“You’re not properly equipped Elizabeth.”

Liz smiled, eyes still on Alexis. “I seem to remember Alex being quite enamored of women.”

“Alex wasn’t really Alexis.” Claire turned to Liz, and Liz recognized the protective edge in her voice. “You’d have to be enamored of women to go through what it took to become on that stunning.”

“Point taken.” Liz took another sip of wine, noting that Claire’s champagne had been untouched since the first sip. She shifted her gaze toward the entrance of the tent. Claire’s problem wasn’t a problem when they were young. Liz wondered. She finished the wine and wondered if she had stayed in her marriage...

Claire interrupted her thoughts, though, with the rustling of her clothes as she sat up straighter. “Who is that with Eleanor O’Hara?” She put down her glass and stretched her neck to get a better look. Liz wondered briefly if her own skin looked as soft.

She hadn’t noticed the couple enter, even though she had been watching. Such was the nature of those kinds of thoughts. But now she focused on the couple. Eleanor O’Hara, she guessed, was the woman in the bright blue satin sari. She was stunning, even standing out as she did in her designer sari and Channel pumps.

But standing next to her in deep blue robes was Casey Novak. Her hair fell down her back in big, soft curls, held back with a gold band. And gold bands circled her biceps, with delicate gold chain attached to golden snakes circling her wrists.

“That was the ADA for Special Victims,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. “Casey Novak.”

“You’ll have to introduce me,” Claire said, her eyes still on Casey.

Liz pursed her lips. Had it been so long? A year...over a year a, really. And of course Claire didn’t know. Liz couldn’t blame the distance between them for that. She and Casey had been careful; they had kept to themselves. And when it was all said and done, there was nothing left but the space between dreams and memory.

Jealousy rose in her throat, tightening it. Liz lifted the wineglass to her lips only to rediscover that it was dry. It had ended as abruptly but much more quietly than it began. By the time she got home that day, Casey’s things were gone, but she had expected that, had stayed at her office longer than necessary to facilitate the inevitable.

“Who did you say that was?” She ignored Claire’s raised eyebrows and the questioning look that accompanied them. “I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”

*****

Eleanor sauntered around the desk, resisting the urge to sit. Instead she leaned over, resting on her elbows, perfectly aware that the perfect view of her cleavage was going completely unnoticed. And anyway, even if she did notice it, Tanner would have been completely unappreciative.

“Do they have a happy marriage?”

She picked up a heavy wooden frame, lifting it up until there was no glare on the glass. “How the hell should I know?”

There were seven happy, well almost happy, faces—Tanner and her husband, the softball, football whatever coach or something, along with three grown men, a teenager who was most certainly too pretty to be a boy, and a girl who...

“How does that make you feel?”

Eleanor didn’t look up. “Is this your daughter? I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“Eleanor, please focus.”

“Bugger feelings,” she murmured, squinting at the smiling readhead’s face. “She’s rather attractive Tanner...looks rather nothing like you.”

*****

Dr. O’Hara was smirking in the most delicious way, and it was difficult to ignore. Beside her Casey looked well enough. Liz resisted the urge to shake her head. Casey looked tired...tired and beautiful.

“...All Saints Hospital. Alex was dating her at one point.”

“Mm. Was it serious?”

Claire chuckled. “The only thing Eleanor O’Hara is serious about is taking people apart and putting them back together again.”

Liz closed her eyes tightly, but she could still see Casey there. She could see Casey that day, her stricken face, her tears. But there had been a wall between what she knew she had to do and her personal feelings for Casey. And the small part of Liz that somehow thought Casey would understand had disappeared along with Casey’s clothes in her closet. But Liz had also convinced herself that she was past that. There had been other women since, just as there had been before Casey.

From where they were now standing, it appeared that Eleanor and Casey could not clearly see Liz and Claire, and Liz was grateful for that. She sighed at her empty glass before sitting it on the low table. Claire turned from the party.

“Have mine.”

Liz took the proffered glass and drank. The effervescence left in the warm champagne burned her throat. Claire wouldn’t ask. There were things they knew about each other—intimate details of each other’s lives. There were old secrets that only they knew. But Claire and Liz took only what was offered from each other. They had been both close and very distant friends.

“You should get back to your party.”

Claire chuckled as she took a sweeping glance around the room. “Afraid we might start rumors, Elizabeth?”

Liz chuckled before tipping her glass to her lips, tasting the sticky champagne again. “Never.”

“But you’re probably right. I’d hate to be labeled as a bad hostess after all these years.” She stood and smirked down on Liz. “You should meet Eleanor. If things haven’t changed that much, she’s just you’re type.”

AU Fic: Office Hours

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 03:31:08 GMT

Title: Office Hours
Pairing(s): Liz/Alex
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,713
Prompt : Teacher!Liz/Student!Alex (written for The First Annual Femslash Kink Meme)
A/N: This is an AU rather than a roleplay kink.
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Alex took a deep breath before knocking on the frame of the open door. She held a thick essay in her hand, careful not to crease it. Ideally, she would have taken the independent study with someone else, but there was no getting around it. Of course, Alex was a realist. The ideal never produced anyone of real note—that’s what her father said anyway. And she was never one to back away from a challenge.

"Come in."

She stepped in just as Liz Donnelly was taking off her glasses. "One essay on courtroom etiquette," Alex said, trying not to roll her eyes as she placed the pristine papers on Donnelly's desk.

"Mm." Alex turned around, but she could hear her thumbing through the paper. "Miss Cabot..."

Alex stopped, squeezing her eyes shut before turning around, a light and concertedly pleasant smile on her face. "Yes, Dr. Donnelly?"

"There's a typo on the fourth page."

A typo on the fourth fucking page. Alex could not stop herself from pursing her lips. Donnelly had a reputation for being a hardass and something of a bitch, but this was beyond ridiculous. And there was something infuriating about the way she looked over her glasses—infuriating and decidedly sexy. But that was something Alex chose to ignore.

“I know,” Alex replied, struggling not to snap. “I corrected it in pencil on my way here.”

“In pencil, yes.” Donnelly put the paper down and stood. “Close the door, Miss Cabot.”

Alex let herself sigh; she had a date with the Dean’s son that night, and she was pretty sure this was going to make her late. It was his sister that interested her, but Alex had always been very aware of which connections to make public and which to keep hidden. She shut the door by pushing it to, anticipating that the sound would echo as it hit hard against the frame.

“Some of your professors your first year might have found this sort of thing...acceptable, but I do not. You can either fix it or I can take of points.”

“How many points?” She asked, crossing her arms.

Liz stood. “We discussed my grading procedures at the beginning of the semester.”

Alex watched her go to the bookshelf and take down one of the heavy reference books. It was as if she was being dismissed, but she did not move. She had never had Donnelly in a classroom setting, but she had heard that she was one of those professors who paced.
“I seem to remember a focus on quality of content rather than minutia.” She hated the way Donnelly was looking down at the book, flipping through it nonchalantly, when Alex knew the woman probably knew exactly what she wanted and where it was located. She hated that seeing her standing—when during all their meetings she had stayed behind her desk—was distracting because of the promise of long legs under a skirt of perfectly respectable length.

“Attention to detail can make or break a case,” she said without looking up. “You, especially, would do well to remember that.”

While Alex prided herself on being detached, she hadn’t learned not to raise her hackles to the quality in others. “I’m not fixing it,” she said, shifting her weight. “And I will go to the Dean if...”

“You’ll run to the Dean if you decide...what, Alexandra? That it wasn’t fair?” Liz snapped the book shut as she looked up. “But I suppose you would automatically run to the closest male authority figure when you don’t get your way.” Alex’s cheeks flushed hot; she did not notice Liz taking a step forward. “Isn’t that right?” With Liz there, suddenly so close, Alex felt her breath catch. She kept her arms crossed but was unwilling to move back. Her eyes were fixed on her professor, but Liz’s, seemed to be all over...all over her. “I didn’t think you needed me to tell you that running to the Dean won’t be as effective as running to daddy.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Alex blurted the words out before even thinking to walk away. “It’s one mistake on a pointless paper that I did countless hours of research for... You have railed on me all semester when I have done nothing but give you my best work.”

Donnelly chuckled. “Your work would be excellent if you could reign in the attitude. Most judges don’t find arrogance appealing. And they like entitlement even less.”

Alex licked her lips self-consciously. She wanted to avoid Donnelly’s eyes, but she found herself looking at her just as openly. “So, I guess that explains why you haven’t graced the doors of a courtroom in at least ten years.”

There was a moment, as Donnelly raised her hand, when Alex flinched, preparing for the sting of skin against her cheek. She was even more unnerved to find Liz’s fingers caressing it instead.

“You are pert, Alexandra.”

“What are you doing?”

There was the briefest hint of something in Liz’s eyes—Alex almost felt like the older woman was taunting her. “I’m giving you a third option.”

She licked her lips again as she tried to find the breath to respond. “I could get you fired,” she said emptily, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton.

“You could. But you’re too smart to attach yourself to that kind of scandal before your career even starts. Aren’t you.” Her voice was low, and Alex shivered.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But that leaves the question...where does this get me?”

“Lock the door, Alexandra.”

The lock turned heavily in her fingers. It was old, like the rest of the building; the walls were thick and the heavy draperies on the windows needed updating. She wondered if they held sound as well as they held dust. Her date would be waiting, but Alex knew he would accept whatever excuse she gave him.

When she turned, Donnelly was reclining against her desk, legs and arms crossed. Alex crossed to her, and while her footfalls were sure, she was not. It was dangerous for both of them, and it was not even a fantasy in which she had truly indulged. But the woman in front of her unnerved Alex more than the consequence.

“Well?”

“Well,” Alex repeated, more quietly.

Liz laughed lightly as she stood and slipped out of her skirt. Alex was not surprised to see navy blue lace, but she stood in place, still reeling a bit. She thought she saw the corners of Donnelly’s lips twitching, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Do you need a tutorial, Alexandra?”

“No.” Alex blushed and automatically smoothed her blouse as she stepped forward. She had a feeling that satisfaction was not on Liz’s agenda for her—not during this encounter, at least.

“Good.” She spread her legs, and Alex, after taking her glasses off, went to her without having to be beckoned.

She ran her fingers up Liz’s smooth thighs, appreciating them in a more detached way then when she had simply been looking, speculating. If this would get her ahead... Alex knew better than to become emotionally involved. As long as she got where she needed to be, as long as she became the best...methodology was irrelevant—as long as the things that needed to be hidden remained that way.

The lace was delicate under her fingers, and Alex could smell Liz as she knelt. The desk was a little too tall for comfort, but she was sure that was the intention. When she flicked her eyes up, she quickly lowered them again, avoiding Liz’s appraising, calculating gaze. She had to crane her neck, to stretch her back straight to run her tongue over the top of the lace. Even through it, Alex could taste her, but she did not take the time to find the words in her mind.

Liz’s hand was warm in Alex’s hair, but Alex flinched at the unexpected feel of it. She pushed the panties aside and ran her tongue up Liz’s slit. She preferred a woman who was shaved, but Liz was holding her head firmly now. Alex did not want to meet her eyes again—not yet.

“Mm,” Donnelly intoned. It was the same sound she made when reading over proposals and briefings, when she was grading, and it only served to infuriate Alex. She pressed two fingers into Liz without warning and was rewarded by a gasp. That, however, was followed by a tug on her hair. “You’re hardly at the point where you may take liberties.”

Alex sank her face back down, pressing her tongue to Liz’s clit and sucking it lightly. She resented that she was already wet, wetter than Liz. She resented that she would probably end up in bed alone, trying to get off while frantic and angry. But she used all of her restraint to fuck Liz slowly with her fingers, curling them as she pulled each thrust back.

Yet Liz was still, her breathing the only thing that betrayed how much she was enjoying herself. Alex could feel her eyes, and she closed her own. Her back and neck ached, but she pushed rhythmically, consciously resenting each thrust and unconsciously thrilling in the test.

She did not know Liz was coming from the small sigh, from the way her fingers flexed in Alex’s hair. It was the way Liz’s body clenched around her fingers, the almost imperceptible thrust of her hips. She pulled away, Liz’s tug at her hair and her own movements becoming fluid. Alex flushed, looking up at her as she knelt there. She opened her mouth to ask, to beg, but she quickly closed it. But Liz had seen; she was smirking.

“Bring this back,” Liz said as she tossed the paper to the floor and stood, “when you can show that level of effort.”

Alex picked up the essay, careful still not to crease it. Her sticky fingers made a smear where they touched. She did not watch as Liz pulled her skirt back on.

“Goodnight, Dr. Donnelly,” she said, voice quiet with its anger.

“I’ll see you next week, Miss Cabot,” Liz said as Alex unlocked the door.

The hall was empty save for a few open doors. Alex’s legs felt heavy and her cheeks hot as she walked away.

Fic: To Cast My Shadow

Sat, 06 Jun 2009 04:29:05 GMT

Title: To Cast My Shadow
Author: cleo (cleo2584)
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing(s): Casey/Liz, Alex/Liz past, Alex/Olivia past implied
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,222
Summary: Casey, Alex, and Liz reflect.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Author's Note(s): SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC. Spoilers for "Zebra".

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because she was stupid and selfish. For an entire year, Casey let their relationship go back to what it had been—a back and forth of anger and lust. Because Liz had done her job and because she had been hurt by it, Casey led them back into destroying the trust they had built. It wasn’t completely her fault; they built it together and they pulled it apart together.

Casey wished she had driven, but she had been in the cab when she got the call. She tapped her phone against her knee. When Casey pulled away in anger, Liz didn’t immediately reach out. Liz thought she needed to space, but Casey saw it as some sort of punishment.

She shouldn’t have moved out. The new house was theirs, and she walked away, even when Liz tried to stop her. She had seen it in the dark when they found themselves rushing quickly through to the bedroom; she had seen it in the grey hours when she crept away, leaving all of the baggage there, untidy.

The dirty window showed her reflection, and as the city lights seemed to pass her by, Casey could see the tears that she could not feel on her cheeks.

“Are we...” She cleared her throat as she tried to find her voice. “Can you get me there any faster?”

The cabbie craned his neck to look at her through the mirror. “Should be fine if we can get past this intersection,” he mumbled.

Casey pressed her hand to her cheek and tried not to sob. She had wasted so much time.

*****

Even after she hung up, Olivia stared at the screen of her phone; it was hardly the time for Stabler to leave is phone sitting around. Something... She shook her head in an effort to clear it, but something was there, just beyond her reach. Though the sound of heels clicking on the tiles kept her from mentally going through the conversation again. She put her phone away, glancing at where Liz lay before looking up.

“Hey...”

“I came as soon as I got the call. How is she?”

Olivia pushed a strand of her hair back. What was it? What was she missing about that phone call? “She’s stable; thank God we were so close. Elliot’s gone to...” Olivia’s eyes went wide. Sushi. “I need to go...”

“Olivia, where are you going?”

“Stay here,” she said as she bolted to the door. She paused for a moment, biting her lip as she glanced back into the room, torn for half a moment with a sudden urge to stay. “Don’t leave her alone.”

*****

Casey’s chest was tight when she saw Liz lying there, pale and alone. She had given up wiping her eyes; her cheeks were sticky, but she didn’t care. She stepped through the open door and froze.

“What are you doing here?” She blinked deliberately, shutting and opening her eyes against what had to be a vision, another facet to a terrible dream.

Alex Cabot was pursing her lips, looking for something to say, as she stood. “I was on the case. Elliot called me when they brought her in, and...” She bowed her head as if to convey sympathy, but Casey was looking away. “Casey, I...”

When she heard Alex took a step toward her, Casey shook her head. She curled her fingers into a fist to keep herself from putting a hand out to stop the blonde. The monitor quietly marked Liz’s pulse, and Casey imagined that she could hear her breaths. But relief failed to wash over her; she found herself gripping the rail of the bed, swallowing back the swell in her throat.

Had there been something besides memories and ashes between Liz and Alex? Casey remembered the lingering scent of Alex’s perfume in Liz’s coat closet. It had been almost five years, but the scent stung her nostrils. She closed her eyes, ashamed of how quickly jealousy rose against everything else.

*****

Alex bowed her head; she had gotten there first, but she had no doubt that she was the second call Elliot had made. Casey’s knuckles were white, but it was the anger, the remorse in her eyes that made Alex look away. She had seen them staring back at her, eating away at her through her own reflection for the past five years.

When she looked up, Casey was staring down. There was something timeless about the way she watched Liz sleep. It wasn’t her tear stained cheeks or her creamy skin; it was the gaze itself, as if Casey was unaware she was about to stumble upon something endless, that she had already come upon it only to wander away in circles until she returned.

When Liz woke, her unfocused eyes wandered, catching Alex’s for a moment before settling on Casey. The rustle of hospital sheets seemed less intrusive than her presence when the two twined their fingers together.

“Casey,” Liz said. Her pale hair feathered on the pillow, and she looked old, tired and old. Alex had never seen so much vulnerability in Liz, and she had never expected to—not even in a situation such as this.

“I’m so sorry.” Casey’s sob broke her words and sent Alex’s thoughts spinning into nothingness.

Alex looked towards the door. They told her Liz had coded, yet there she was, vulnerability melting away as she comforted the woman she loved. What she and Alex had had was based on the temperaments of lust and frustration; it was not meant for moments like this.

She pushed her fingertips into the narrow pockets of her skirt; her footsteps seemed to drown out any other noises until the door clicked heavily shut behind her. Liz had often been what she needed, but never what she really wanted. And now that Alex felt the temporary nature of things always at her heels, she wasn’t sure what that—what she had wanted—had been.

*****

Liz only noticed the shadow when it retreated from the bed. Alex was hurrying away, her footsteps measured but quick. She closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind was trying to jump to anything that might have happened while she was unconscious, but the thoughts were slow, lazy with traces of whatever sedative they had given her.

“Don’t cry,” she said, her mouth dry. Casey’s eyes were brilliant, despite the redness, despite her puffy cheeks. Liz thought that every time she saw Casey cry—and it seemed like those were the some of the only times she had seen Casey in past year. Anger and tears—they had made her tried. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the regret.

They had wasted so much time, and Liz was all too aware—she had been all too aware when she collapsed into Stabler’s arms—of that now.

“I should have been there with you,” Casey said quietly. Liz heard her slip her shoes off, and she shifted as Casey climbed onto the bed. There were too many nights when she had lain with her eyes closed, listening to Casey leave. Having her there, feeling her warmth, was the greatest comfort she could imagine. And as she drifted back to sleep, she forgot about the sound of Alex walking away.

Patterns in Traffic

Thu, 21 May 2009 04:56:49 GMT

Title: Patterns in Traffic
Rating: PG
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Casey Novak
Summary: A chance meeting leads to a surprising end.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 1,649
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.
A/N: A special thanks goes to twtd for betaing. Written for femme_fic for calleigh_j

Just outside of the restaurant, Alex stopped for a breath. She could just make out Casey Novak sitting alone, the warm lights of the bar reflecting in her hair. For a moment, Alex was tempted to take a step back, to hail a cab. She was already late—too late, she had both feared and hoped the entire way there.

But she had never walked away from anything before. Alexandra Cabot did not walk away...unless she had no choice. Sometimes she wondered if that had even been the case or if that was what she told herself. Things seemed to be back to the sort of normal that Alex had longed for, but she felt a distance, a tension with them. She was happy in the courtroom, but she was not at ease with bringing her past and her present together.

For all of its noises all around her, even though it pressed in on her, the city seemed more distant than the woman sitting in the quiet bar. Alex pursed her lips and took a deep breath. She opened the door knowing this was something she wanted.

“Alex.” Casey smiled brightly. Alex had not remembered that from Zapata’s trial. But why would she? Then, Alex had been more worried about Casey as a prosecutor than as a person.

“I’m sorry, I’m late.” She put her bag on the floor as she slid onto one of the high backed barstools. “SVU needed a warrant...”

Casey waved her off in an instant, smiling slightly. “I know how it goes.”

“Yeah.” Alex caught the bartender’s eye. She wondered if it was really that easy for Casey to dismiss it or if she didn’t want to hear about SVU at all. “I’ll have a glass of the rioja,” she said. “Thanks.”

She watched Casey finger her glass. “Planning this has been pretty ridiculous, hasn’t it?”

*****

“Shit...” Someone left the top half unscrewed on the carafe of nonfat, so of course, it splashed everywhere, including the front of the person who picked that moment to step up to the coffee bar beside her. Casey instinctively grabbed for napkins at the same time as the other woman, one of them spilling her lidless cup in the process. “Shit. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

She grabbed the cup before even more of the coffee could get everywhere, and she put a wad of napkins over the biggest part of the puddle.

“No, it was my fault, I...Casey? Casey Novak?”

Casey looked up. The voice was had a distant familiarity, but the face, she knew immediately. She blinked. “Alex Cabot. I...” It had been three years, and she hadn’t paid much attention to Cabot’s return to the city because it didn’t really affect her. “Sorry about your suit.” Her suit—the one that looked like it had most certainly been worn for a day in court.

Alex just shook her head, and both women stepped back when a barista came out with a mop.

“It’s fine. I was headed home. It’s...good to see you.”

Casey smiled tightly, looking down as she rummaged in her purse for her wallet. But Alex was not looking at her the way she expected, the way everyone in the legal circle still did, even after a year. It was surprising not to find the usual polite pity when she looked up, but it was good, refreshing.

“I heard you’re at SVU again.” She didn’t know why she kept up with it, why she did it to herself.

“Yeah. We should have...coffee sometime, compare notes.” Alex pushed her glasses up, suddenly seeming just a little uncomfortable.

Casey pushed her hair behind her ears. She could smell stale coffee on her skin. “I’m pretty sure the last thing your office wants is for any of its prosecutors to compare notes with me.” She laughed lightly, but the sound of it fell heavier than she would have liked.

Alex pursed her lips. “I tried my share of...questionable justice,” she said quietly. “You just ran out of luck.”

“Right.” Alex Cabot always knew how to cut to the quick—that much hadn’t changed. “Well, good luck with SVU,” she said matter of factly, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.

Casey was turning towards the door when she felt Alex’s hand on her arm. She couldn’t imagine that the situation could get any better, but something made her turn around. Whatever Alex Cabot’s opinion of her really was, whatever bitterness she still had about the censure and disbarment, Casey knew that Cabot had been through losing it all. So, she stopped, turned around, and once her eyes met Alex’s, she knew she hadn’t made a mistake.

“Casey, I’m sorry. I just...what I was trying to say is that...I know how it is...to get a tough break.”

Casey had heard those words before, but she smiled, a bit sheepishly. “You’d think it would stop stinging after a while.”

“You’d think, but...” Alex shrugged. Casey noticed then that Alex was still touching her arm. “I meant it about getting together.”

All of a sudden, she wasn’t sure if it was notes that Alex wanted to compare. There was something in the way Alex withdrew her hand, letting her fingertips linger that took Casey by surprise. While she had never really known her, aside from what she had been told about Alex’s “death” when she took the job, Casey had always heard Alex Cabot was something of a political bisexual. She wondered if politics was in the equation anymore.

She instinctively went to reach for her cards, only to rummage around in her bag until she found something that she could write on. Casey penned her cell number on the back of an old receipt, and she was successful in her determination not to blush when she handed it to Alex.

*****

She folded and unfolded the number a few times for a few days before putting it into her phone. But Alex did not call Casey right away. She wanted, needed to evaluate what had possessed her to indirectly ask for it in the first place. In the three years since her return, she had managed to keep SVU out of her life. It hurt, but the pain was dull compared to what she had felt when going into witness protection.

But the fiasco that resulted in Novak being disbarred had been everywhere, for a moment at least, and Alex hadn’t been able to avoid that. It had been nearly a year, but she still thought about it, still felt something like compassion...no, she felt something of a kinship with Casey. They both pushed, and pushing too hard gotten them both lost.

There was something about Casey, some sort of promise behind her tight smile. And it had been so long since Alex felt anything beyond a hint of interest for anyone.

She looked at the number on more time before calling. The sound of her heartbeat syncopated with the rings until Casey’s voicemail picked up.

This is Casey—leave a message.
Alex thought about hanging up, but the recording was starting. “Hi, Casey. It’s Alex. I was...thinking we could have drinks, maybe Thursday at eight? Let me know.” She sighed after hanging up. A date for drinks and a date for coffee were two different things, and that probably wouldn’t escape Casey’s notice.

*****

“Drinks,” Casey said aloud as she listened to the message again. When she finished saving Alex’s number, she tapped her phone against her chin. She wondered if she really hadn’t imagined the lingering touch. “Right,” she said, dialing the number with a touch.

As the tin ring sounded in her ears, Casey wondered where this came from, how this had just fallen into her lap. She hadn’t been on a date in over a year; SVU did a good job of killing one’s personal life, and afterwards, she had been in a little more than a funk.

“Hey, Alex...” She had completely missed the intro message. “Thursday sounds fine. Just let me know when and where.”

*****

Alex swirled her wine thoughtfully. “Ridiculous is a word I would use, yes. I’m really sorry about that...I mean, having to cancel—“

“Twice,” Casey cut in. “I was beginning to think...” She looked down, a self-deprecating smile on her face. “I’m not sure what I was thinking, actually. Things come up...the office before personal life, right?”

“Yeah.” Alex breathed the scent of the wine before sipping, letting the taste fill and relax her. Those were words she had lived by once, but it wasn’t the same. No matter how much she wanted it to be, being back at SVU wasn’t the same. “Theoretically, at least.”

Casey chuckled. “Until it destroys whatever you’ve got left,” she said bitterly. Alex blinked. It was not that she wasn’t thinking it, but she realized that Casey had come as close to living it as she had.

“Bitterness and resentment is a great way to start something,” Alex said, slightly amused.

“What are we starting here, Alex?”

“I...” Alex ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Casey.”

Once, all she had wanted was power, political clout. That was what had driven Alex, and it was what haunted her when everything had been taken away. Now, though, she found herself craving nothing more than a human connection—something simple, something real.

It came as a surprise to her when Casey leaned forward, kissing her gently. Alex licked her lips, forcing herself not to tense, while Casey smiled into her glass.

“Maybe...” Casey said, “we need to stop trying so hard. It’s obvious that we both need something, and it’s really okay if that’s just sex.”

Alex broke into a slight smile. It was something she would have said, something she might still say. And most importantly, she could not argue with Casey’s reasoning. It was something—something she wanted, no matter how unexpected her companion.

Sat, 09 May 2009 14:55:58 GMT

This is a picture of Judith Light's hand holding the SVU finale script (cropped from a full pic of JL).

</a>

The last two lines read:

a syringe, she got the full dose.
Donnelly's knees buckle, collapses into Elliot's arms.

Is it bad that I know what JL's fingernails look like?

From Twitter:

(from SVUfans) @NealBaer can you tell us anything about Donnelly's participation? Is it big, small?
(from Bear) @SVUfans Big. And quite a scene with Stabler...

I don't know. I feared this would happen. I'm not overly upset because I simply won't watch the show anymore (for reals), but I am upset...I mean, she's my favorite character. I've been writing Liz/Casey and Liz/Alex for four years.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Updates!

Sat, 02 May 2009 20:02:41 GMT

For those of you at Dreamwidth, Liz Donnelly Fic has found a home there in community form at miri_cleo.

I will be mirroring posts here there.

The Dreamwidth account will allow me to rearrange some of the fic, so it is in order. And I will also be revising and finishing some pieces!

Change

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 04:54:58 GMT

Title: Change
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Liz Donnelly, Liz Donnelly/Casey Novak, Liz/Casey/Alex
Rating: NC-17 for mature themes
Summary: Alex discovers just what has and has not changed
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.
A/N: Though there are no direct spoilers, this piece references events in episodes 9.19 "Cold" and 10.15 "Lead."

Alex took a deep breath and the red numbers blurred as the elevator climbed. Her keycard no longer worked, but she had expected as much. It might have been enough to make her turn around—it should have, at least. The doorman did not recognize her, and she was not sure what possessed her to ask him to call up to Liz. Perhaps it was because she knew the judge would not be there so early in the evening.

She had been wrong. Alex flinched when the elevator chimed; she stared at the lighted “P1,” the lower level of the penthouse—the Club. As the doors opened onto the familiar foyer, she felt distinctly underdressed in the suit she had worn to court that day.

“Are you just going to stand in the elevator, Alex?”

Liz was reclining easily against one of the twisted sculptures that adorned the entrance to the Club. She seemed different to Alex, somehow softer and out of place against the wrought iron. But the sound of Alex’s own heals on the marble floor seemed even more alien than that.

“I didn’t expect you to be here.” Alex’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Liz pushed away from her perch; her lips were set in that way Alex had seen hundreds of times. She did not need to ask what her former boss, her former lover was thinking. She knew she was being appraised in that moment, and she found herself bearing it just as she used to—with a haughty dignity.

The older woman crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. “Then why did you ask for me?”

Alex shifted the weight of her purse on her shoulder. It felt strange having it; it felt strange talking there—on the cusp of being back inside the Club. She pursed her lips, knowing she was not being asked for an answer, as Liz began to circle her.

“It’s been three years, Alexandra, yet you still managed to pick the day I have always set aside to spend time on new applications and other matters. How,” Liz said as she stopped in front of the taller blonde, “coincidental.”

Even after so long, Alex’s body reacted immediately to the sound of Liz’s voice, the look in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her stiffening nipples and shifted. “I suppose I needn’t tell you that it slipped my mind.”

Liz chuckled, her eyes flicking from Alex’s face to her chest and back. “No.”

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but she was silenced by the sound of one of the heavy doors opening. Liz did not turn, and her eyes sparkled with amusement at the way Alex’s face lifted in surprise.

“Casey...” she managed. The redhead was leaning against the door, bare feet half hidden by ragged jeans that dragged the floor.

“Alex,” Casey replied. There was a hint of something n her voice, in her manner—it was something that Alex had not seen the last time they met. But it was a self-assuredness, an easy, mocking confidence that she recognized as common to those walls.

It had slipped her mind—or had it, really? Alex never imagined Liz would involve Casey in the Club. She never imagined that the two would stay together in the first place. Her cheeks pinked, much, it seemed, to Liz’s delight, but she straightened herself, standing taller.

“This isn’t the proper place for this conversation, I think.” Casey smiled. “And I’m sure you and Liz have quite a bit to talk about.”

Liz shifted her hands to her hips. “Casey is right. Do come inside, Alexandra.” She smirked just slightly in that way that irritated Alex to no end. “You look like you could use a drink.”

*****

The bar was empty, but Liz knew beyond the soundproof walls, the kitchen staff was preparing for the evening. The room had its own air of anticipation, though; Liz’s gaze swept over the carpets and chairs, the antique tables and the paneling that spoke to a different time, and she was overwhelmed with the feeling, as she often was in moments like this, that the room was never meant to be empty.

Casey rounded the bar; she was a fraction of its age, and Liz could only imagine what Therese would say about her rummaging for glasses and bottles on her bluejeaned knees. But she did not mind; she had come to love peeling those jeans off of Casey’s pretty legs.

“Do sit down.” Liz draped herself across a high-backed leather chair. She was pleased to see how Alex waited for her command. And she could not say that she was surprised that the training stuck, despite everything Alex had been through.

She watched Alex let her purse slide to the floor as she sat tall, almost regal, across from Liz. That Casey was there made her tense, Liz could see as much. It intrigued her to see her former pet that way. When last they met, Alex had been as haughty, as self-assured as ever. But that was still there, even though she was warily watching Casey pad towards them with two glasses of scotch.

Alex accepted her glass, and Liz watched her eye Casey as the redhead perched on the arm of Liz’s chair.

“Well,” Alex began, crossing her legs, settling into a semblance of comfort, “she seems quite well trained despite all appearances to the contrary.”

Liz’s face remained calm when Casey laughed. She wrapped her arm around the younger woman’s hips indulgently, keeping her eyes fixed on Alex’s face as the blonde tried to hide her reaction.

“Maybe you’ve gotten soft since I left.” Liz thought she detected a sullen note in Alex’s voice, but she merely smiled.

If truth be told, Casey had softened her somewhat. She adapted to her lover’s needs, especially when Casey had taken a keen interest in the club. It had been a blessing in disguise after Casey’s career ground to a halt, a blessing for both their relationship and Casey’s attitude. When she least expected it, Liz found herself learning things all over again with Casey. And she was willing to indulge a bit more.

Now, she watched Casey smile easily, an almost devil-may-care expression that was bound to goad Alex into something. “Would you care to find out?” she challenged.

Liz was smiling calmly, but she was not about to let Alex answer. “Think about it, Alexandra.” She drained her glass and rose, content to see both Casey and Alex standing quickly with her. “Now is not the time for any hasty decisions.”

She watched Alex purse her lips—the only outward expression of frustration from the other woman. Alex shouldered her bag and with it some semblance of her composure.

“It was good to see you, Liz.” She nodded curtly. “Casey.”

Liz returned the nod, but Alex had already turned on her heel, knowing she had been dismissed. She crossed her arms as Casey flopped into one of the more plush leather chairs.

“You didn’t want her to stay?”

The older woman chuckled lightly. “She’ll be back.” Liz perched on the arm of Casey’s chair and fondly ran her fingers through the redhead’s hair. “I’m actually surprised you wanted her too.”

Casey merely shrugged. It was a gesture that Liz had come to tolerate even though she detested it. “If you want one more night with Alex Cabot, I’m not going to stop you.” She paused, looking up at Liz with harder eyes than nine months before. “I just want to be there.”

Liz lifted her eyebrows airily. There was no trace of insecurity in Casey, but there had not been in months—not since Casey declared that since she had nothing better to do, she might as well take advantage of Liz’s part ownership in the Club. It worried Liz, to a degree, but she knew her partner was working things out on her own. She slipped into her role easily but not without caution.

“Very well. But there will be rules, Casey.”

“I don’t have any sort of vendetta against Alex Cabot. She did her job, and I did mine. I’m just...curious.” A smirk flashed across her face as she leaned up, her lips quickly meeting Liz’s in what was certainly meant to be a peck.

Liz, however, caught Casey’s chin and deepened the kiss—just a small reminder.

*****

Casey moaned with uncharacteristic abandon as Liz brought the paddle done on the backs of her thighs one last time.

“Twenty-five,” she managed breathlessly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She stretched, standing on tiptoe with her chest still flush against the soft bedspread. She shivered and relaxed when she felt Liz’s cool fingertips on her pulsing bottom.

“Mm, you enjoy that too much.” Casey grinned and arched her back as Liz ran her palms firmly up her sides.

Casey propped herself on her elbows. “I was as pert as you needed me to be today.”

She could hear Liz chuckling above the rustle of her blouse as she slipped it off. Casey looked over her shoulder, smiling and unsurprised to see Liz’s expression mirroring her own.

“Perhaps.”

Casey pushed off of the bed when Liz crooked her finger. She wrapped her arms around the older woman’s neck, leaning in for a kiss before pulling away to finish undressing her. She did not fold Liz’s clothes; she never did. Instead, she focused her long fingers on Liz’s skin, walking them down from the hollows of the blonde’s collarbones to the curves of the undersides of her breasts.

Her thumbs caught Liz’s nipples, as if by mistake, and she let out a sigh of contentment at the still exciting familiarity as they stiffened. Liz’s eyes fluttered closed, leaving Casey to resist the urge to kiss the slightly purpled lids.

“Do you really think she will come back?” Casey murmured, lips against the soft skin underneath one of Liz’s ears.

She felt Liz’s breath on her shoulder. “I know she will.”

Casey grasped Liz’s hips, pulling her forward to the bed. The comforter was cool against her still warm legs, but Casey turned on her side, pulling Liz underneath her, straddling her lover deftly. Liz was tired, she knew, so Casey did not say anything more.

Instead, she kissed down Liz’s chest, stopping to nip each nipple lightly but quickly moving downward at a lazy enough pace. She trailed her fingers along Liz’s thighs, parting them only to begin kissing inside of them. But when she felt the older woman’s hand come to rest on her head, she centered her attention on Liz’s already wet lips, kissing them before pressing her tongue inside.

Stretching her arms upwards, fingers searching for Liz’s nipples, Casey pushed her tongue upwards, savoring Liz’s taste and focusing her attentions on the other woman’s clit. She circled it firmly with her tongue; there would be another time for teasing. And she kept at it, lazily and almost sleepily intent with Liz’s fingers curling into her hair. Casey ran her fingers down Liz’s side, across her thigh.

She pressed her tongue tightly against Liz’s clit, nipping it lightly as she pushed two fingers inside of Liz, sighing at the warmth and wetness. And when she curled them back towards herself, she felt Liz tighten and shudder through her climax.

“Mm.” Liz raked her fingers through Casey’s hair, and the redhead carelessly flopped beside her, ignoring her own wetness.

“You should get some sleep.” She grinned against Liz’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure Alex Cabot is going to take an inordinate amount of energy.”

She kissed Liz’s shoulder and moved to pull back the covers, letting Liz crawl under them as she reached for the light. When she heard Liz’s breath grow heavy with the darkness, Casey spread her legs and pushed her long fingers between them, sighing softly.

*****

There was a new keycard waiting for her, and Alex knew she should not have been surprised. This time, she paid no mind to the sounds of the elevator, and handing her coat off to one of the shadowy figures that greeted her in the foyer came as naturally as if she had never left.

She had almost stayed home. But more than Liz’s unspoken challenge, it was the memory of Casey Novak’s mocking smile that brought Alex back. She walked through the heavy doors as if she had never left; this was, after all, the only aspect of her life that was untouched by the bullet. Without realizing it, she briefly touched the scar.

It was, irritatingly enough, as if Liz had been expecting her. When Alex entered the bar, the older woman did not approach, did not stop playing the hostess for a moment. And to her surprise, Casey, full clothed and this time shod, approached her.
“I’m sure you remember where Liz’s chambers are.” There was no trace of the smile on her face, but Alex could hear it in the younger woman’s voice.

She lifted her chin in protest, but a silent nod from Liz in her direction confirmed the unspoken order. Alex turned away from Casey silently; she could feel Liz’s eyes on her back as she left the room. Others might have been staring, but Liz’s gaze was the only one that mattered. She could scarcely shake it even as she climbed the ornate staircase, taking the familiar and very public path to Liz’s suite.

The first thing that struck her was a bag and a jacket, both carelessly tossed into a chair. The suite looked much the same, but those two things—Casey’s, she presumed—were enough to make Alex feel out of place. She undressed without entering the bedroom, and she laid her neatly folded clothes on the table before kneeling just inside the door.

Alex had forgotten what it felt like to wait. Her muscles trembled to hold her back erect, to keep her from failure before she had really begun again. She knew the moment Liz walked in that the strain was showing on her face.

“Casey seemed to think you wouldn’t come.”

She kept her eyes on the floor and her mouth shut. Her limbs might have been aching, but Alex had not forgotten herself. She could see Casey slipping out of her shoes and carelessly pushing them aside.

“That’s not exactly how I put it,” Casey retorted. Alex could not see the wordless exchange between them, but the subtle shifts in their bodies told her that there was one.

She felt Liz’s fingertips under her chin, urging her to stand, and Alex did so, trying to ignore the pain in her tingling legs. Liz circled her, fingers skimming the small of her back so lightly that Alex could not suppress a shiver. She had not felt so naked in the three years she had been back.

“Help Casey undress.”

Alex drew in an almost imperceptible breath of surprise, but she began with the buttons of Casey’s blouse without hesitation. She kept her eyes on her hands as she slipped the shirt from the redhead’s shoulders and began to fold it neatly, placing it on the table by her own pile of clothing.

When she unhooked the other woman’s bra, Alex noticed how the muscles in Casey’s back rippled as she slipped it off of her arms, letting it fall to her feet. The blonde stooped gracefully to pick it up. She vaguely remembered that Casey played softball, but all she could imagine was the power those shoulders would put behind a whip. Something about the mental image seemed wrong, though, and she finished undressing Casey quickly after dismissing it from her thoughts.

“Casey.” Liz’s voice was quiet, and Alex stepped back, clasping her hands behind her back.

She felt a pang of jealousy when she heard the rustling of Liz’s clothing as Casey undressed her. Alex did not watch, knowing she would be admonished for staring. She kept her eyes lowered, lashes obscuring the sight of Casey’s long legs. She could see, however, each piece of clothing as Casey tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair.

*****

Liz looked from Casey to Alex, noting how Casey’s eyes followed her and how Alex’s remained down turned. She was not surprised that the training had held so well; she had done it herself, after all. With Casey, though, it was different. Four, maybe five years before, Liz would have subjected her to whippings. But now she took as much pleasure in indulging Casey as she had in depriving Alex.

She smiled at the thought, the memories. Alex had always been possessed of a certain grace—not the fluidity of a dancer or the lazy sprawl of a cat. It was a raw, haughty strength, and she was glad to see some of that still in the rigid curve of Alex’s shoulders. Liz stepped behind her and ran her palms firmly up Alex’s back, satisfied to feel the other woman shiver.

“Tell me, Alexandra, why did you come back?” She leaned forward, lips brushing the back of Alex’s ear. “Was it jealousy, mm?” Liz ran her hands back down Alex’s sides and slid them around her hips, resting them on the slender bones. “Perhaps,” she taunted, slipping her hands down, fingers pushing between Alex’s lips and delighting in the wetness there. “Perhaps you felt the need to prove yourself.”

Liz pressed her chest to Alex’s back, feeling the younger woman take a jagged breath and tighten her muscles. “I finished proving myself to you a long time ago.”

“Oh, not to me, Alexandra.” Liz chuckled darkly, her gaze drifting to Casey, whose lips were wet and swollen, whose eyes were fixed on the two of them. She felt Alex’s body stiffen almost unbearably, and she was not surprised when Alex lifted her chin. “Was there something you wanted to say?” She kept her fingers just inside Alex’s lips, waiting there without pushing inside.

“N-no.” Alex’s voice cracked, whether from her throat simply being dry or something else, Liz could not say.

Liz pressed her fingers forward, just slightly. The tips were slick. “No?” she said coaxingly.

Alex set her jaw, pursing her lips as she stared forward. Liz could see her cold blue eyes reflected in Casey’s. “No.”

“Good.” Liz pushed two fingers inside of Alex mercilessly. She needed to know that her former pet would not break, that at least that part of Alex had not changed.

Liz met Casey’s eyes as she pumped her fingers in and out of Alex. She smiled to see Casey flushed and licking her lips. Even though Casey had taken an interest in the Club, she had never been involved in anything like this. Liz remained monogamous, serving in a supervisory role—setting up scenes making sure the rules were followed... Seeing Liz with another woman was entirely new to her, and Liz knew Casey was unused to watching while Liz’s attention was directed elsewhere in the bedroom.

The rise and fall of Alex’s chest was as rhythmic and quick as her jagged breath. Liz slipped a third finger inside, her own arm tired from the position. She pressed on, though, ignoring the way Alex pushed her hips forward. She knew the blonde would not come without her permission.

When she stopped abruptly, she could hear Alex swallow a whimper of protest. Liz nipped at Alex’s earlobe. “Go into the bedroom,” she commanded, voice smoky.

She watched Alex curl her fingers into fists, steadying herself before walking out of the room. Then she turned her attention to Casey.

*****

Casey’s mouth had gone dry watching, and she realized she was pressing her thighs tightly together. Her eyes had been locked with Alex’s the entire time; she was riveted by the blonde’s struggle to maintain balance while her body betrayed just how much she enjoyed the situation.

She knew precisely how much she would have squirmed, moaned. And now, face to face with Liz, Casey found herself unable to move no matter how much she wanted to. She blinked as the older blonde sauntered towards her.

“You wanted to be present,” Liz purred, holding her fingers to Casey’s lips.

Casey took Liz’s fingers into her mouth without hesitation. She closed her eyes at the taste—the mild, tart taste—of Alex Cabot. Liz pulled her hand away, replacing it with her lips, her tongue, and Casey thought she might lose herself in that kiss. The taste of Alex still on her tongue mixed with Liz’s warm, wet mouth, with the barest hint of scotch.

“Mm,” she murmured, pulling away from Liz. “I thought she would fall apart.”

Liz chuckled as she tweaked Casey’s nipples. “Would you?”

Casey drew herself together, standing taller but somehow still feeling that she was looking up to Liz. By her lover’s smile, she realized it was precisely the reaction Liz had anticipated, but she could not stop herself.

“Come to the bedroom,” Liz said, pulling away.

She watched Liz’s scarred back retreating from her, and for a moment, she wondered how well Alex’s fingertips knew those scars. Casey stretched her own fingers as if in response to her own thought. She cracked her knuckles before following Liz.

*****

Alex knelt at the foot of the bed. There was a time when she would have known what to expect, but that had changed. She realized she had expected Liz to be the same—the Club was, after all. But Liz was not the Club, and Alex had a feeling that there would be no whippings in store for her that night.

She felt tired with anticipation.

“Stand.” She had scarcely seen Liz come into the room when the older woman issued the command. Alex did as she was told, finding herself face to face with Casey again.

Liz had walked away, leaving her to study the redhead. Casey’s nipples were as swollen as her lips. It was clear that she wanted to touch and to be touched, clear that she wanted all of the pleasure that the situation had to offer. But it was also apparent that she was just as off balance as Alex felt, just as unsure of what was to come next.

When Liz returned, she had a harnessed dildo hanging from her index finger. She held it between them, the silicon catching the light. But when Alex looked at her questioningly, Casey lunched for it, grasping it and pulling it away from Liz just as Alex began to react.

Alex’s eyes darted between the two women, Casey strapping the harness to her hips while Liz merely smirked. The element of playfulness was alien to her, and she shifted uncomfortably. But just as Alex was grasping for her composure again, Liz kissed her, grasping the back of her neck with her long, now cool fingers. And almost as soon as Liz pulled away, Alex felt herself being pushed, face first, over the edge of the bed.

She was surprised at the clarity of Casey’s moan in contrast to her breathless silence as she felt the dildo push into her pussy. It seemed like it had been so long; Alex felt unbearably tight. But Casey was still.

“If you can make her moan,” she heard Liz say, “I will let you come.”

Alex bit the insides of her cheeks as Casey began with long, slow strokes. She grasped the comforter, twisting it in her fists, and underneath Casey’s on moans, she heard Liz’s soft laughter.

*****

Liz was content to watch for a while. Casey was taking her time, enjoying herself, and it was beautiful to watch Casey’s muscles stretching and Alex’s face reddening. But she knew the look on Casey’s face as the redhead closed her eyes, pushing into Alex more quickly and with more abandon. Liz placed a firm hand on the small of Casey’s back, but the younger woman seemed to ignore it.

Pursing her lips, Liz grasped Casey’s hips firmly, eliciting a sound of frustration from her. She forced Casey to pull out of Alex and replaced the dildo with her fingers. Alex gasped, fingers digging more desperately into the comforter. Casey was panting, and Liz pulled her fingers, now slick and glistening out of Alex. She pushed Casey’s hips forward insistently, letting her begin again.

After kissing Casey’s shoulder, Liz carefully began to press one of her wet fingers into Casey’s anus, making the redhead moan loudly and become still.

“Do continue,” Liz said.

Each time Casey pulled out of Alex, she pushed herself more firmly on Liz’s finger, and after a time, Liz added another. She could feel how close Casey was, could sense her frustration in the way her thrusts became erratic. And underneath them, Alex was trembling.

*****

Casey strained against the deep thrusts of Liz’s fingers and the way the base of the dildo pressed into her clit with each thrust forward. She ground her teeth together, trying to swallow her moans, trying to listen to any sound from Alex.

And when she heard it—the smallest hint of a whimper muffled by the comforter—Casey pressed forward as hard as she could, her orgasm already making her legs weak. She barely felt Alex shuddering underneath her. But in the silence, the stillness that followed, she felt Liz pull away and heard her walk away, heard her washing her hands. Casey shivered at the thought of how cool they would feel on her back when Alex was so warm underneath her.

*****

“Turn down the covers.”

Alex was not sure if the command was meant for Casey or for her. But both women moved to either side of the bed, obeying silently. She could see that Casey’s pale skin was still flushed prettily, and her own heart was still pounding.

When the bed was ready, Alex stood back, but she found that she was unable to look away as Liz unhooked the harness, letting it and the dildo fall from Casey’s hips. She watched them crawl into bed together with comfortable familiarity. Her chest tightened.

“Alexandra.” Liz, Casey stretched catlike at her side, beckoned Alex into bed, and she obeyed without hesitation. “Mm.”

She felt Liz’s long fingers in her hair, pushing her head gently downward as she pulled the covers back. Alex remembered her taste, and she found herself lapping eagerly at Liz’s clit when she realized that much had not changed.

Alex knew she would walk away, leaving Liz dozing in Casey’s arms. She knew she might never taste Liz again. But she focused on that moment, on Liz’s taste, on the way her body would shudder and release. Everything else was ahead of her.

Phoning

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 07:17:59 GMT

Title: Phoning
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing: Liz/Casey (implied)
Rating: PG
Summary: Liz makes a phone call.
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.
A/N: A post ep for 10.7: Persona. Spoilers for that episode, as well as the season 9 finale.

Liz left the DA’s office earlier than she anticipated. She would be back in her own office Monday morning, and though she was reluctant to admit it in company, she was glad for that. Working with SVU again, the case, the outcome...all of it brought back memories she had done her best to put away. They were not all bad; they were simply old—old and hazy.

She found her cell phone, rubbed her fingers over the keys for a moment before dialing. The number was not hard to recall. The voice on the other end did not have the sound of thirty-odd years.

“Elizabeth, what a pleasant surprise.”

It was good to hear his voice. Liz had not seen him for several years, since one of the last times she was with Alex. She preferred it that way; they were the best that way—better than they had ever been as husband and wife.

“It’s nearly midnight there.” Liz’s voice held a distinct smirk. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

Jonas’ chuckle was soft. She could see him smiling. “No, not at all, darling. Shouldn’t you be buried in a pile of cases...or are you calling to tell me you’ve finally made the leap to politics?”

“Neither.” Liz began to walk more briskly as she fell into the conversation with natural ease. It had never been that simple when they were married. “I took a temporary leave from the bench to finish up a case at the DA’s office...”

“Finish a case at the DA’s office?” Liz knew he was raising his graying eyebrows.

“I think you’d remember the one—Linnie Malcolm.”

There was a pause followed by light laughter. “Ah, yes...the one that precipitated a phone call from the DA. For...” He was laughing harder now and not in a politely English wasy. “For my permission to allow you to work a homicide case, yes?”

“That’s the one. It’s over and done with now.” Liz stopped to lean against a corner. Her steps had taken her to the metro entrance she and Jonas used to take home. It was funny how memory worked, how it could direct one’s steps and thoughts. She could still use it to go home, but these days she tended to take a cab.

And she was not ready. Not that evening. She was not ready to go home yet.

“Well, I suppose you feel like you have some closure now.” He was most likely reading now or filing his nails or toying with whichever knickknack happened to be the closest. Liz knew his habits still, just as she knew Casey would sitting at home wrapped in a blanket as she stared at the fire.

It had gotten better for a while. She played quite a bit of softball, saw more of her brothers. She was doing anything and everything she could not to think about it But Liz’s case had bought on a mood swing that negated everything else.

“I think I’m using you to avoid going home,” Liz said dryly. But Jonas did not sound surprised.

“Trouble in paradise, my dear? You could always take a bit of a holiday here.” His halfhearted attempts were endearing, and Liz knew he still enjoyed them.

Liz chuckled. “Casey is sulking and...I’ve made it worse.” Her smile faded as she ran her fingers through her hair. “She got disbarred after that case I told you about. And even though any good lawyer would do the same thing, she caught a tough break.”

“And your working on this case has made the situation worse. Mmm.” He was rubbing his chin now. Generally, it made him look like less of a dandy. “I seem to recall, Elizabeth, you doing quite a bit of sulking after...now, what did they call it when that woman tricked you and ran off...”

Liz rolled her eyes. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I? Wonderful. I wasn’t quite sure what sort of point I was coming to anyway. Simply do not make the same mistake I did.”

Was she as self centered as Jonas had been? Perhaps. But she and Casey were different; she and Casey were right. And even though Casey’s persistent funk maddened her, Liz cared enough to see it through.

She also knew that she should not have taken the old case up again. It was a ridiculous attempt to gain face for something nearly everyone had either forgotten about or was not around to remember.

“Thank you, Jonas,” Liz said quietly. She did not wait for him to reply before hanging up. It was time to go home.

Sun, 11 May 2008 20:48:02 GMT

Just because miri is in Italy doesn't mean that things aren't happening here.

New layout miri_cleo

~Ash

Fic: Liminal

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 23:48:10 GMT

Title: Liminal
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing: Subtle Alex/Liz, Casey/Liz
Summary: Alex is caught between worlds.
Challenge/Prompt: passion_perfect's 48 Hour Summer Challenge/A masquerade ball
Rating: G
Disclaimer: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Alex took the garden in with a sweeping glance. The sun was just setting, but the heat was still oppressive. People moved about in the lengthening shadows, lending even more mystique to the event. There was a time when a masquerade would have held little mystery for her. She knew people by their walks, voices, gestures, but things changed quickly in the city. That change once drove her; now it made her feel as if she was standing outside the movement of time.

A glaze of sweat condensed on her back as she pushed through the heat, as she told herself that this was where she was meant to be—in society, with her colleagues, with her peers. But Alex was glad of the mask just as she was glad of the smell of summer in the city to remind her that she was really there. She took a glass of champagne from a white masked waiter passing with a tray. It was cool against her fingers, cool and thick in her throat.

The sun had disappeared quickly, almost startlingly. Alex had not noticed the paper lanterns hanging from the trees before, nor had she noticed anyone lighting them. It was as if they appeared. And with them appeared the moon in an almost cloudless sky. She gazed at it, content in the solitude of the moment even though voices, not so distant sounds of traffic, and deliberate piano notes surrounded her. But somewhere in her mind, the garden was quiet, more spacious. It was like being in the space between two worlds, and since her return to New York, Alex had wondered when that feeling would disappear. It never quite did in the program.

Couples were beginning to dance in a section of the garden in which the grass had been cut as a floor. Alex had never felt compelled to pair off, to seek that sort of affection. She watched them, bodies lightly pressed together despite the heat.

“You never danced so close.”

The voice came from behind her, but Alex did not have to turn to discover to whom it belonged. She knew; she would always know it.

“You never complained.”

She could not remember what it felt like to have danced with Liz Donnelly. But she remembered the heat of their bodies against the cool sheets, the way she shamelessly pressed into Liz’s hands, her lips. Condensation from her glass trickled down her palm onto her wrist. Alex imagined Liz flicking it away with her tongue, replacing it with soft leather. Perhaps not everything had changed. She turned, the image—possibly a memory—still in her mind.

What she expected was to find Liz’s unmistakable smirk standing out from a mask. But her former lover was watching someone else approach, was reaching out her hand to meet the other woman’s.

“Let’s dance.” The voice, peppered with smoke, was familiar to Alex, but Liz’s smile, the look in her eyes, was not. She had never looked at Alex that way.

“It was good to see you, Alexandra.” The other woman snaked her arm around Liz’s as they stepped towards the dance floor. Alex saw the soft glow of dark red hair as the two began to dance, their cheeks touching.

She turned away. The job had been hers, but Liz...Liz never really had. The feathers of her mask stuck to her cheeks and her hair to the back of her neck as she walked away.

Missing Scene: Page Six

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 03:32:37 GMT

Title: Page Six
Fandom: Law and Order SVU
Pairing: Liz/Casey
Rating: G
Summary: A missing scene from 4/22/08's "Closet."
A/N: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC. And this actually wasn't the fic I was talking about wanting to write in earlier posts. Uhm...surprise!

Casey tightened her arms around Liz. She was almost asleep, and it had not taken her long to get there. Liz was stroking her hair gently, almost lazily. But when she heard Liz draw in a very deliberate breath, she knew the other woman wasn’t close to drowsy.

“His big fat gay wedding?” Liz asked, her lips brushing against Casey’s hair.

The redhead sighed. “I was frustrated.”

Liz chuckled, but even before that, Casey had felt her smiling. She rolled out of Liz’s arms and propped herself on her pillow. She did not want to open her eyes; Liz’s expression was clear enough in her mind.

“How do you find out about this stuff?” It made sense that Liz would know what was going on within the DA’s office—to a point—but Casey found it endlessly frustrating that her partner knew even the smallest details, knew when she said or did something ridiculous out of anger.

“Do you really want to know?”

Casey opened her eyes. Just as she expected, Liz was lying on her back—eyes closed— looking completely placid, completely harmless. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“No. I really don’t think I do.”

“We could have our own big fat gay wedding. I’m sure page six would love it.” Liz’s words were clipped with sarcasm, and Casey could see a ghost of a smile on her face in the darkness.

“Yeah right.”

Casey could not help but chuckle as she flopped onto her other side. Liz was warm against her back. And even though she had been blindsided that day, she knew she had something up her sleeve. She was asleep by the time Liz put her arms around her again.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 17:22:15 GMT

I can't believe it's been almost a year since my last update. There are a few pieces that I wrote during that year that I haven't posted yet. I'll try to get on that.

I said several months ago at the svufiction.com forums that I would not be writing SVU fic anymore. I've become largely discontented with the show, and almost all of my fic is based on material from episodes which feature both Liz and Casey. Unfortunately, we haven't been afforded that pleasure this season, and with Diane Neal leaving...I probably won't go back to the show. I also felt for some time that I had written everything I wanted to write about Liz/Casey.

But I will be editing and finishing the fic that I have written. I will also post everything that isn't posted here.

And...there is one more fic that I want to write this this pairing; so, hopefully I can get to it soon.

Thu, 19 Jul 2007 23:13:32 GMT

New layout: miri_cleo at least until miri gets home and tells me that she doesn't like it and wants me to change it again.

Nostalgia Series: Part V

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 05:22:50 GMT

Title: Old Light
Summary: Jonas hadn't expected it to end up that way.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jonas/Therese
Note: Jonas and Therese belong to me; do not use without persmission.

Jonas lightly ran his fingers along the cool marble railing of the balcony as he looked up at the night sky. It was not cloudless, but he could see enough of the stars to be reminded that they were indeed there.

Things had not gone as he planned; then again, he was not entirely sure what he had planned. She was not the type of woman to allow herself to be swept off of her feet. That was something he surmised about her the first time she spoke to him. But Jonas knew he had had some vague notion that she would fall into his arms. She actually had, in fact, fallen into his arms moments before pulling away again.

He had never come across as a serious man, but he did not even have to tell her he loved her for her to know he was not playing one of his games. It was not something he had ever said to her…to anyone. But she would not have him; in everything he had thought and not thought would happen, he never expected that she would not have him.

Yet, somehow, she did not have to explain. She would not have him, would not allow him to get any closer than he already was, and would not break the dichotomy of power between them. He realize this just as he had always known it, and as a small cloud passed a shadow over his face, he vaguely wondered what made him even try.

The small cloud drifted away, and for a moment it seemed to him as if the stars would come down on his head as he bowed it, looking then at his own hands. He had not heard her step behind him; perhaps it was only that he did not want to hear it. He did not look up, did not move as she put her hand on his shoulder. She squeezed, her grip, he realized for the first time, as delicate as it was powerful.

“Just old light, my dear. They are just old light.”

Jonas turned his head to the side, looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was turned upwards, but he could still the stars reflected, blurry in her eyes. And her words cut like dull scissors. He turned away, looked again at his hands, splayed flat on the marble. He loved her first—before he came into her bed, before she came into his. But all was just old light.

Glazed with Rainwater

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 05:47:20 GMT

Summary: Casey slides into home and waits for the ump to call it.
Rating: G
Pairing: none
Note: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

Casey could not suppress her grin as she slid into home. The drizzle that had been falling on and off the entire day collected on her helmet, dripped onto her face and neck. She was covered with mud, as were the home plate and the catcher. But none of that mattered as she heard the resounding call from the umpire.

“Safe!”

She could hear cheers all around.—cheers from her teammates, from the other team, from the audience that had dwindled to just a few loyal friends and family members. With the rain, Casey knew the cheer was less for her and more for the sheer fact that the game was finally over. Three cancellations that month due to rain; they agreed not to let it stop them this time. Of course, Casey figured it was because the NYPD thought they would have the advantage over a bunch of ADA’s who did not want to get dirty. They were wrong.

Her teammates were already crowding around her by the time she got up, and Casey felt someone shove something cold, heavy into her hand. She grinned as she looked at the trophy, all glazed with rainwater yet somehow still shining despite the darkening clouds. It was their fourth win in the six years she had been with the DA’s office, and she knew this one was going on one of her office shelves.

Fri, 25 May 2007 08:21:25 GMT

Summary: A missing scene from "Screwed." After Liz recuses herself, Casey goes to her to vent.
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Casey/Liz
Notes: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC.

The door slammed so hard that Liz involuntarily flinched. She could hear Casey dropping her things—one loud thud for her suitcase and two successive thumps for her bags of clothing—at the foot of the stairs. Liz had not seen her since the meeting in chambers, the meeting in which she made her reasons for recusing known and issued a warrant for Stabler’s daughter, and their last bit of communication had been a cold but discreet glare from Casey as she walked out.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” Casey began as soon as she entered the living room. She crossed to the sideboard, stepping out of both of her shoes before she reached it. “I hope you’re fucking satisfied, because now I’m screwed.” Liz watched as Casey violently threw ice-cubes into a tumbler before carelessly filling most of it with gin and adding tonic, spilling it as she did so.

“Shit.” Casey’s back was to her, but Liz could clearly envision the look on the redhead’s face. It was frustration, and Liz had seen it in chambers, in court, and in her own bedroom. Even though she might have gotten up to help, Liz knew it was best to give Casey her space. Any intervention on her part would only hasten the onslaught of the tirade she knew Casey had every intention of embarking on. She was, in fact, surprised that Casey had even returned to the brownstone that night.

It was a hassle, and it was limiting; however, Casey and Liz agreed to stay apart during trials in which they were both involved. It helped to minimize the potential damage a defense attorney could cause for Casey’s cases. In this one, Liz feared, it had not been enough.

Before the trial even started, the defense attempted to use Liz’s relationship with Casey as a way to change both the ADA and the judge—a poor stalling tactic with the potential to hurt her career as well as Casey’s. Fortunately, the law—which in some cases she maintained was limiting, close-minded, and outdated—was on their side. She and Casey were not married or living together; there was, to her knowledge, little to prove that they were even sleeping together. But even though they were able to circumvent that obstacle, she knew as well as Casey that the mention of it in open court might taint a jury.

Something like that could cause a review of all the convictions Casey had made in Liz’s courtroom. And even though it was now a nonissue with this one, Liz feared that her sudden recusal might cause Casey to worry. Though neither she nor Casey had confirmed any relationship, Liz knew Greyson might bring it up, might call for a mistrial. It did not look good for Casey already, and she worried that he would drag her through the mud just as he had everyone involved.

“What was the point?” Casey turned, drink in hand. “You didn’t have to say anything; it was unrelated. It was hardly a cause for you to recuse yourself.”

Liz pursed her lips. “I’m not above the law, Casey. I had personal knowledge, and Stabler was…”

“I was there,” Casey snapped after swallowing a sip of gin. “You saw just how fucked up everything had gotten, and you made it worse. I just can’t…I just can’t fucking believe it.” Liz watched as Casey shook her head and sipped her drink bitterly.

If it were anyone else, Liz would have already been yelling. In fact, if it was any other case, she would not spare Casey, but this case, this case was a disaster, a dog and pony show for Darius Parker. Yelling at Casey would do no good; Liz knew she was frustrated, and she knew that she made an easy target. So, she simply resigned herself to whatever Casey might dish out.

“I can’t do it.” Now Liz watched Casey pace, pace and drink. She wanted to go to her, to be able to offer something to help, but she stayed silent. “I can’t do it unless Teresa Randall pulls her head out of her ass and agrees to testify.”

“Maybe you should pull it out for her.”

Liz immediately regretted her words. Casey shot her a look that promptly told her that maybe she should not have opened her Goddamned mouth. In fact, Liz half expected that to be Casey’s next statement.

Instead, Casey said, “She’s already locked up in a cell, Liz. What more can I fucking do?” She sat her empty glass on the coffee table, and Liz automatically moved to put a coaster under it. This elicited an exasperated sigh from Casey as she sat down, swinging her legs over the arms of the chair.

In her dejection, Casey looked almost like a child. Liz might have liked to smile, but she did not dare. This was not the disappointment of a little girl who lost her favorite crayon; it was not the disappointment of a teenager who had not been asked to the prom yet. This was more pressing; it was the despair of knowing that a murderer could potentially be set free, that two words uttered by a jury foreman could wound a hard-earned career. Liz had been there; she knew how it felt to realize the hopelessness of a situation. She also knew what it felt like to gain a second wind, to realize that there might be a way. And she knew Casey would get there…that she would vent and wake up ready to push harder.

“If I could just get Randall to testify, we might still have a shot at this thing. Of course, now I’ve been moved to a judge that hates me…” Liz noticed that Casey made sure to glare at her.

“Are you going to keep this up for the rest of the trial?” Liz finally asked.

She watched as Casey cocked her head before standing up. “Coming back tonight was a mistake. I can’t deal with you right now.”

Liz raised her eyebrows. “You have bigger things to deal with right now.”

“You’re not my fucking boss anymore,” Casey almost yelled. “I don’t need you to tell me that I’m up to my ears in shit. I get it.”

As she turned to go, Liz stood. “Alright, I’m not your boss, and I’m not your trial judge anymore. But it doesn’t make any difference. The way things were going, you were headed for a loss no matter who sat on the bench. You’re not a kid Casey, and you’re not a freshman ADA anymore. Maybe it’s time for you to pull your head out of your ass and figure out if and how you can salvage this thing.”

She watched as Casey narrowed her eyes, as her looks changed from angry to predatory. Liz could not say she was not surprised when Casey stalked forward and kissed her, but that hardly meant she was not pleased. And as Casey backed Liz to the sofa, she knew Casey would pull something together by the end of the night.

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 05:23:36 GMT

Summary: A drabble situated between "Loss" and "Ghost".
Rating: G
Pairing: Casey/Liz
Notes: SVU belongs to DW and NBC. Also, I haven't really situated this within the series yet, but I might do that later.

Casey stopped, hand frozen on the doorknob. The coat closet stood partially open; it was getting cooler—her first autumn since moving in with Liz. She turned the knob…stopped; it was there again—a scent. First, she thought she had imagined it, but Casey could clearly smell the crisp perfume that had been lingering in the closet. Now it traveled about the entryway, making itself at home, settling in the air before almost disappearing. It was old, vague, yet familiar—Casey remembered why. She bit her lip, tears in her eyes; though Alex Cabot was dead, she kept haunting Casey.

A Quick Upadate

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 04:24:27 GMT

I realize that I've been neglecting my fic journal, but Christmas is finally here--more importantly, December is finally here. And that means I can actually write. I do have a few shor things to add, and I'm planning on writing some new stuff in the next three weeks (before the Spring semester starts).

I've heard that Judith Light is going to be on the next new episode of SVU (Jan 2); so, I might get inspired. *grin*

Other than that, I hope everyong enjoys the holidays!

Updates

Mon, 06 Nov 2006 00:09:15 GMT

I've added to "Prada Shoes and Attitude". Here's the link to the post http://miri-cleo.livejournal.com/4329.html. I don't know that I will be updating any other stories anytime soon. I plan on starting that in December, after the semester is over.

I am also in the process of updating the tags on all of the posts. Right now, they are all tagged by series and number. I realize that this can be incredibly frustrating when looking for a story by title; so, I'm going to add an additional tag of the title to each post.

Enjoy everyone!

An Announcement

Wed, 23 Aug 2006 04:36:52 GMT

Hello everyone!

I'm finally settled (or something like it) into my house in Charleston. My girlfriend is living about three blocks from me, which is nice. I wish we could live together, but with my parents still helping me on rent, that's not possible just yet. Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear about that, or my adorable new babies...kittens actually. I have two tabbies--boy and girl named Oberon and Titania.

This post is actually to say that I'll be taking a little break from writing fic. I realize that I haven't added anything new in a while, but this is just to make the hiatus official. I had my first graduate class today; so, I'm really taking this break in order to gauge just how much work I will be doing and where I can fit writing fic in. So, don't worry (if you were worrying), I am by no means giving up fic writing. I am simply taking a month or so to figure my schedule out; then, I will finish what I've left unfinished (I'm sorry about that), as well as add new things.

Thanks for your patience!

More updates

Fri, 21 Jul 2006 05:50:56 GMT

As you can see, I've finally put up the new series. There is one more piece, but I havne't finished it yet. I didn't want to leave you hanging during an extremely smutty scene; so, I'll put it up soon.

Also, I've updated the "Periodicity" story "Contempt"...more smut. yay!

Enjoy!