DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters are the property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
SPOILERS: This piece deals with events in SVU season 8's finale, "Screwed."
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Vent
By Miri Cleo
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her career as well as Casey's. Fortunately, the law—which in some cases she maintained was limiting, close-minded, and outdated—was on their side.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.
The End