Archive of Our Own

It's days like this that Casey regrets ever signing up for tee-ball as a child—regrets every game she played, every team she joined, every extra lap she ran around the track. She's been sitting at her desk for the last three hours staring down at her paperwork but getting very little actually done. Her knee is throbbing—her left one, her bad one, the one she tore the ACL in twice in three years. It hasn't been the same since high school and even now, over a decade later, the pain still flares when she least expects it. Every time, Casey curses the teenage version of herself who thought physical therapy was "lame" and not worth the effort. If she could go back in time, she would smack some sense into herself.

Her knee had been stiff when she had woken up that morning and Alex was already gone—having been called in hours earlier to the precinct. There was nobody to help her get ready in the morning and that only exacerbated the irritation in her ailing joint; she limped through their apartment and longed for the crutches that are stuffed so far under their bed that she wouldn't have even known how to go about retrieving them. Instead, she suffered through her morning routine. She considered texting Alex, just for some sympathy or encouraging words, but then self-sacrificingly reasoned that she was probably busy and not in the mood. As she had hobbled out of their apartment that morning, Casey desperately held back screams of frustration.

And now she's on the tail end of her work day and the pain has only gotten exponentially worse. She's squirming in her chair and gripping the pen in her hands so hard that her knuckles are turning white. She has already taken double the recommended dose of ibuprofen a person should take in a day and still, the pain persists. Stabbing herself in the leg with the envelope opener on her desk would probably be less painful than this, Casey thinks as a minute shift of her leg sends more sparks of pain traveling up her thigh. Honestly, even being electrocuted would be a better option.

Reasonably, she knows that's a little dramatic but she can't help the frustration that bubbles up in her chest as her mind is clouded by pain. It's torture, sitting in her uncomfortable office chair in front of a desk with almost no room for her to stretch her leg out. She stares longingly at the couch across the room, trying to come up with any sort of plan that would result in her on its comfortable cushions with enough work to keep her occupied for several hours and would not run the risk of her ending up on the floor with no way to get up. She figures maybe if she hops on one leg she could be there in about ten jumps but she knows if she falls, everything will be much worse.

Out of options, Casey braces both of her palms on her desk. She counts to three in her head, trying to psych herself up before pulling herself up onto her one leg. Even though she isn't putting any weight on her bad leg, a jolt of pain still runs its course through her and she curses under her breath, holding herself up on the desk to keep her knee from buckling under her. The sharp pain passes after a moment, fading back into the constant, throbbing ache that it's been for hours. Once she gets her breathing steady and even, she pushes herself off the surface of the desk, laptop and a couple of case files clutched precariously against her chest. She begins hopping towards the couch, every jump jolting her knee and intensifying the pain. By the time she's halfway there, the pain is so consuming that Casey genuinely considers collapsing onto the floor right there and giving up. The thought of having to explain that to one of her bosses if they were to walk in deters her, though. She forges on.

Eventually, Casey makes it within a couple of feet of the couch. She can nearly taste victory—or maybe that's the taste of bile rising in her throat. She's almost there and then she stumbles on the last, pathetic little hop and has to plant her foot and put her weight onto her bad leg just to stumble onto the couch. She gasps in pain as she does so, fiery lightning rods of pain slicing up through her entire left side. The pain is accompanied by another wave of nausea and a steadily progressing headache. But, at last, she finally collapses onto her back on the couch. The cool leather is soothing against her overheated skin and she turns her head to the side to press her cheek into it. Closing her eyes and blindly reaching out to set her work on the nearby coffee table, she resolves to get back to it once she gathers her bearings for a little while. Drawing a shaky breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, Casey tries to block out every sensation besides the feeling of the couch under her body. If only she could will away the pain through sheer willpower.

That’s how Olivia finds her an indeterminate amount of time later. Casey is drifting in and out of awareness, in too much pain to fall asleep but too exhausted to focus on anything else. So much for the work she had planned on getting done. Olivia knocks on the door, Casey is sure of it, but she doesn't hear it, too overwhelmed and fighting down the vomit rising in her throat to be listening out for visitors. She doesn't wait for a response before entering, something typical of their current friendship. Two years ago, Casey would've thrown a stapler at her head for such a thing. Now, the blinds on the door aren't closed so Olivia has no problem waltzing right in—they know what signs to look for before entering each other's respective offices.

Casey doesn't even notice Olivia has entered her office until she's directly next to her, kneeling in front of her couch to peer worriedly at Casey's disheveled form. Casey blinks owlishly at her, brain feeling like sludge. Olivia frowns and gently reaches out to press the back of her hand to Casey's forehead. She's feeling for a temperature, Casey distantly realizes, and she has half a mind to be embarrassed about the sweat accumulating on her brow but she can't form enough words to apologize. When Olivia draws her hand away, she looks confused. However, there's an urgency in her voice when she asks, "Casey, what's wrong?"

"'m fine," Casey mumbles back, screwing her eyes closed as another wave of nausea folds through her. Her words are slurred when she adds, "Happens all the time. My knee."

"Which knee? Your left?" Olivia asks, shuffling down closer to Casey's legs to set a careful hand on her left shin when she nods at the question. Her eyebrows are knitted together, creating worry lines between them, when she asks, "Are you hurt?"

Casey shakes her head despite the way the room spins when she does, eyes blearily opening to look at Olivia as she hums a negative, "Nnnhm." Distantly, Casey is aware of the fact that she's acting like a drunk. Knowing she's at work, she tries to maintain some level of decorum but can't quite manage it as pain shoots up through her hip and into her abdomen. Still, she tries to explain as well as she can despite the fact that every time she opens her mouth, she fears she's going to projectile vomit instead of speak. "Old injury. Hurts sometimes. A lot." She lulls her head to the side, pressing her forehead into the back of the couch in a desperate attempt to keep herself grounded. Olivia, bless her, places a cool hand just below Casey's knee, right where her pant leg is rolled up in Casey's makeshift effort to put some pressure on the injury. Olivia's touch offers some relief, if only emotional, and she huffs out a long breath.

"Is there anything I can do?" Olivia asks—bless her—but all Casey can do is roll her head from side to side and try not to throw up onto Olivia's shoes. She groans as another spike of pain shoots down into her ankle and up into her hip, raising her leg on instinct to try and get away from the pain even though logically, she knows there's no point. It won't stop. Olivia's hand drops away, her eyes widening at the uncharacteristic whine Casey lets out. When she lowers her knee back down, Olivia doesn't try to touch her again. "I'm calling Alex," she announces, rising from the crouch she had settled in.

"No," Casey whimpers, squirming against the couch cushions and gasping when her knee pops and shoots fiery daggers of pain through her body. She feels like she's being lit on fire from the inside out—or maybe fireworks are being set off in her bones. Still, she manages to force out a quick, one-word explanation of, "Busy." Simultaneously, she imagines a million tiny icicles impaling her all at once and comes to the conclusion that it would hurt less.

"Honey, she's not busy, I promise." Olivia stares down worriedly at Casey, her voice gentle in a way that she usually reserves for particularly flighty victims or children. Casey wants to be indignant at it but she doesn't have the wherewithal. "And even if she were," Olivia says as she begins scrolling through her phone, presumably for Alex's contact, "she'd drop anything for you." Casey huffs but doesn't argue, distantly aware of the fact that Alex is going to want to know what's going on—and is probably eventually going to give Casey a lecture about reaching out to her sooner when something like this is happening. It's a conversation they've had plenty of times before.

Casey tunes Olivia out as she talks on the phone, reassured at knowing Alex is on the other side of the call even if she isn't in the room. Her metaphysical presence at least helps calm Casey's flight or fight instinct, her racing heart slowing and her breathing evening out to a somewhat respectable level. Casey eases back into the couch cushions, letting herself trust Olivia and Alex to figure it out amongst themselves. For once, she's going to let somebody else do the work for her.

Eventually, the room falls silent again and Casey squints her eyes open, focusing on Olivia's face only a couple of feet away from hers. "Alex said she'll be here within the next ten minutes," Olivia informs her as she bites at her lower lip, clearly trying to offer some consolation. "She also said you keep instant icepacks in your desk drawer?" Olivia takes a step towards Casey's desk, waiting for some kind of answer or permission before she starts rooting through her desk.

Casey shakes her head dazedly, producing a small groan from the back of her throat before she manages to explain, "Ran out."

"Oh," Olivia sighs, running a hand through her hair, "Let me try to figure something else out." Casey just shrugs at that, closing her eyes once again and offering up no suggestions. Her brain isn't working fast enough to be of any help at this moment anyway. Olivia will figure it out, Casey is sure. So, instead of helping, she groans and pushes the back of her head into the armrest of the couch hard enough that the wood under the layers of fabric begins to press into her skull.

Casey must have lost herself to the pain because the next thing she knows, the couch cushion is dipping and she's rapidly blinking her eyes open to find Alex looking down at her with poorly-hidden concern. She cracks a sympathetic smile when their eyes meet, hand reaching out to rest comfortingly on her stomach. "Liv told me your knee was bothering you," Alex says gently, open and nonjudgmental as she stares at Casey's disheveled form. Her thumb swipes carefully across the front of her blouse.

"Hmm," is all the response Casey can manage despite the way her body relaxes just at the mere presence of Alex. Alex hums in response as if Casey had said anything of substance, carefully adjusting herself on the edge of the couch and reaching out to push Casey's hair out of her face. She uses her thumb to smooth out the pained crease between her eyebrows and Casey focuses on the touch, squeezing her eyes shut once again and trying to ground herself. Alex's hand slowly trails down the side of her face before landing on her jaw and staying there for a brief moment, soothing her thumb across her jawline. Casey unclenches it, taking the hint, and reluctantly opens and closes her mouth a couple of times to release some of the tension she had been holding there. Alex then moves her hand to the top of Casey's head, lightly scratching her nails across her scalp. She keeps her hand there to gently brush through Casey's tangled hair, earning a pleased noise from the low in her throat for her efforts. The way Casey stretches into the touch, humming quietly, reminds Alex distinctly of a domesticated cat.

"Olivia left in search of ice or hot packs," Alex explains gently, used to Casey's lack of verbosity in situations like this. "And I'm here to help you home once you're feeling steady enough to stand."

Casey's eyes fly open at that. "But—"

"You're not getting any work done like this," Alex argues back without even hearing what Casey was going to say. She huffs and rolls her eyes but Alex just raises her eyebrows right back, undeterred. The untouched laptop on the coffee table proves her point. "You being here is pointless. We're leaving once you get your energy up."

At the current moment, even sitting up on the couch seems impossible so Casey doesn't know how Alex is going to be able to pull off the miracle of getting her all the way home. Honestly, she should probably just let her sleep in the office and hope for the best. But Casey knows Alex would never, wouldn't even consider such a thing, so they're going to go home no matter what Casey thinks. Still, she can't help but be a little snarky when she huffs out, "Good luck."

"Casey," Alex reprimands her, voice soft despite their current disagreement, "don't you think maybe you're pushing yourself too hard?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Casey asks through clenched teeth, really having to put some energy into forcing the words out and having to hold back a whimper of pain as she adjusts herself on the couch. She's not able to hide the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, however, and Alex wipes them away with the pad of her thumb. "I'm fine," Casey insists, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensations. Everything just feels like it keeps getting worse. She takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to block out the entire lower half of her body. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," Alex sighs softly and Casey hums at the feeling of her fingertips brushing over her forehead and moving through her hair. "You just don't have to do it by yourself."

"I just—" Casey cuts herself off with a heavy sigh and a vague wave of her hand. Her face contorts in pain but also something else, something more raw and emotional. Alex tilts her head and uses her thumb to smooth out the wrinkles forming on Casey's forehead.

"It doesn't make you weak to ask for help," Alex reminds her like she always does in situations like these. Anytime her knee or her head or her back, or any other various ailing body parts slows her down, Alex is at her side to tell her the same thing every time. "You don't have to be embarrassed in front of me. Or Olivia, for that matter. We just want to do whatever we can to help."

As if saying her name causes her to materialize out of thin air, Olivia appears in the doorway of her office, saving Casey from having to respond. Alex gives Casey a meaningful look that she does her best to ignore before turning to Olivia, who proudly holds up the plastic bag bundled in her arms. "The drugstore down the street had everything any person could ever think to need."

Casey lets out an amused breath through her nose but Alex just raises her eyebrows, eyes widening slightly. "You made it there and back in less than ten minutes." Startled, Casey's eyes flit to the clock on her wall to confirm that she was right. Olivia must've hustled.

Still, all Olivia does is shrug. "I'm very efficient." She quickly strides over to them, setting down the bag in her hand on the coffee table and then beginning to pull out various items. "I got ice packs, hot packs, Gatorade, water, icy hot, and compression socks."

"Jesus, Liv," Alex says, dumbfounded by the array of items she had just proceeded to lay out in front of them.

"You're a gift from god," Casey marvels, her brain-to-mouth filter rendered utterly useless from the fog of pain clouding her rational decision-making abilities. She doesn't even have the energy to be embarrassed when Olivia and Alex both laugh, sharing a look that Casey can't quite decipher.

"That's very sweet, Casey. Now, what out of these things do you want?"

"She's going to drink the Gatorade," Alex says without even giving Casey a chance to decide, leveling her with a look stern enough that Casey doesn't even bother arguing. Besides, Olivia picked out the lime flavor—her favorite.

Olivia passes it to Alex who breaks the seal on it and then hands it to Casey, who makes an aborted effort to sit up enough so that she can drink it. Alex reaches out to help, holding her up by her shoulder so that she can sit long enough to drink a couple of mouthfuls of the drink. She quickly closes the bottle before leaning back against the armrest once again, groaning heavily at the amount of effort even that small action exerted. "Anything else?" Olivia asks.

"The icy hot and the ice pack," Casey says, words stilted as she intermittently pauses to slowly breathe through the sudden wave of pain washing up through her leg.

Alex has both items in her hands within seconds, Olivia and her working together as though they had somehow managed to plan this in advance. Alex breaks the ice pack first to get it started, squeezing it a couple of times before setting it to the side for later. Then, she untwists the cap off of the icy hot. "I'm going to put this on your knee, okay? Let me know if you need me to stop." Casey nods in acknowledgment but doesn't attempt to speak, letting her head lull to the side. Thankfully Olivia got the kind with the roll-on applicator, meaning Alex doesn't have to get any on her hands to rub it onto Casey's knee. Alex is quick but gentle as she applies it, first covering the scar that runs the length of her knee before applying it to the swollen area around it. Her eyebrows are knit together as she does so, examining the red and swollen tissue with focused care. Casey wonders if Alex ever had a passion for medicine because she could picture her just like this in a hospital, calm and empathetic. Either way, she's happy that she ended up a lawyer. "We're going to give this time to work its magic before we get ready to go home," Alex explains, always careful to keep Casey in the loop even when she's unresponsive. Alex also gives her a warning before she presses the ice pack to her knee, having wrapped it in a couple of napkins that Olivia had grabbed off of Casey's desk. Casey tenses at first but then relaxes into the sensation, screwing her eyes closed as Alex adjusts her legs so that the pack can rest more firmly against the inflamed part of her knee.

Casey zones out after that, occupying herself by taking deep, even breaths in a rhythmic pattern she had learned way back as a teenager from her high school's athletic trainer. The conversation that Alex and Olivia strike up about the current case they're working on fades in and out of her consciousness as background noise. Her knee, blessedly, begins to numb after a long stretch of waiting. Numb enough, at least, that she can shift her position on the couch to make herself more comfortable. She feels Alex's hand settle on her waist and squeeze gently before she ends her conversation with Olivia to ask, "How're you feeling, now?" As she waits for an answer, she brings her other hand over to tangle her fingers with Casey's so that she can squeeze her hand encouragingly. Casey, in return, squeezes back, channeling the pain and frustration she's feeling into Alex's touch.

"A little better," Casey admits, her arm not being held by Alex's hand coming up to drape across her forehead. She wipes at the sweat there with the back of her hand before laying the skin of her forearm, cooled by the leather of the couch, on her overheated forehead. She feels feverish and delirious, not quite aware of her immediate surroundings after having her eyes closed for so long. Her brain struggles to catch up, trying to reconcile with the fact that it still can't rest. All Casey wants to do is sleep. Still, she manages enough social grace to squint at Olivia's semi-blurry silhouette hovering a few feet away and murmur, "The ice pack helps. Thanks."

"It was no problem," Olivia assures her and Casey can make out the reassuring smile she is giving her—the one she usually sees aimed at victims and witnesses to crimes. It's strangely unnerving to be on the receiving end of it.

Alex gives Casey's hand another squeeze and it's then that Casey realizes she had been gripping it half-to-death. She loosens her hold as Alex leans forward a little to get her attention with a tilt of her head. "What are you thinking about going home?"

"I think I'm ready," Casey says because she can't imagine her pain is going to get any better any time soon. She might as well not waste everybody's time by staying here—she's sure Olivia has better places to be than standing vigil at the end of her office couch. Still, the thought of having to stand makes her want to never leave this office.

She's sure Alex can read that fact on her face when she gives her a sympathetic wince and a quick pat to her hip before letting go of her hand and standing up. "Let's get you home, then." Casey nods, dropping both of her hands to her side and bracing her palms against the cushion. She looks to Alex, silently pleading, and receives an understanding nod. Alex leans down to slip her arm under both of Casey's knees and holds the icepack in her other hand, passing it blindly off to Olivia. "On the count of three, we're going to turn, okay?" she says calmly and then waits for Casey's nod, hesitant but determined. "Ready. One, two, three." Casey pushes herself into a sitting position as Alex readjusts her legs, letting them dangle off the side of the couch. Casey lets out a long breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding, her feet planted firmly on the floor.

The only thing she can manage to say is a weak, "Ugh."

Alex gives her a half-hearted smile, smoothing her hand over the top of Casey's hair and brushing away some of the errant strands as Casey clutches at the couch cushions, knuckles turning white. "Take your time." Casey nods at that, only half-listening as she takes a couple of shallow breaths in and out through her nose. She steels herself, knowing the faster she gets this over with, the faster she gets to be home laying in bed.

"Okay," Casey whispers. And then louder as she sets her shoulders back, "Okay."

"Ready?" Alex asks and Casey isn't sure which one of them looks more terrified at the prospect of her standing but she nods her head anyway, giving a noncommittal hum. Alex braces herself, gesturing at Olivia to stand on Casey's good side as Alex positions herself in front of Casey but slightly to the left. Then, she bends at the waist to hold onto the hands Casey offers. They nod at each other and Casey takes a deep breath as Alex says, "Okay, you've got this. One, two... three."

The sharp pain that shoots through Casey's entire body as she gets to her feet has her falling forward directly into Alex's arms—which are then quickly wrapped around her waist to steady her. White-hot pain sears its way through her body, and Casey stops breathing entirely, instead squeezing her eyes shut and willing the sparks away. She doesn't even realize her ears are ringing until Alex's voice fades back into focus with gentle reassurances, "You're so strong, Case. You're okay. Take a deep breath."

Casey opens her eyes and finally wills herself to breathe, grasping at Alex's shoulders to keep herself upright as she slowly adjusts her weight and places her left foot just barely on the floor. "That sucked," Casey says through a wince, forcing out an obviously-fake laugh to try and dissipate the blatant worry on Alex's face. It doesn't work. Olivia gives her a sympathetic smile as she comes up to grab onto Casey's right arm, letting Casey slip it around her waist to steady herself. Alex moves to mirror her, having Casey sling her left arm over her shoulder so that she can carry the majority of her weight on that side. The position is awkward, especially with their varying heights, but they have to make it work.

"Ready?" Alex asks again and Casey pauses, looking around.

"My purse," she explains, eyes still darting around her office but Olivia calms her with a careful touch to the hand resting on her waist.

"I've got it. We're all set," Olivia says, holding her arm out to show Casey's purse slung over her shoulder and the bag of drugstore items hanging off of her elbow. Casey sighs in relief.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Casey nods. “Then let’s get going.” Olivia and Alex share a glance over her head that Casey doesn’t even bother to try and look at and then they’re both adjusting their grip. It’s go time.

"One step at a time," Alex encourages, determinedly holding up most of Casey's weight on her left side in a vain attempt to avoid further irritating her injury. The pinched look on Casey's face doesn't reassure Alex that she's doing a very good job once they start walking.

It’s a slow, grueling process. Casey is snippy the whole way through the building and she feels bad about it because she knows, she knows, that Olivia and Alex are doing everything they can. But it still hurts more than words can describe—somewhat akin to a rabid dog gnawing at the tendons connecting her knee to the other bones in her leg. Or somebody trying to give her a piercing that goes straight through her ACL. Something like that. Not to mention, it’s humiliating to be practically carried through her place of work by the woman who is technically her boss and the captain of the special victims unit. And it doesn’t matter how few people they pass, the embarrassment will be enough to last her the rest of the year.

Alex gives her a sympathetic smile as they shove their way through the doors leading out of the building, trying to find some consolation. The only thing she can think to say is, "How does a massage sound once we get home?" It's a valiant attempt to try to find something that will ground Casey as she determinedly does not vomit while they exit the building.

And it works, too, because Casey sighs in response and murmurs, "Heavenly.” Alex has only just suggested it but Casey is already picturing the bliss of her hands on her skin. At the borderline dreamy expression on Casey's face, Alex grins in triumph and catches Olivia’s eye.

"Alright lovebirds," Olivia huffs, "save it for when you're alone. I don't need to hear this."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Casey mumbles, and on any other day, she would have never had the nerve to say such a thing. But her brain feels fuzzier than a newly-purchased bag of cotton balls and her judgment is clouded by the insurmountable pain she's in so she gives herself a pass at making a couple of corny jokes.

Thankfully, Alex had managed to find a parking spot close to the office this morning and is fumbling around in her purse for her car keys only a couple of minutes later. The relief between the three of them is palpable when they finally make it to the car and Olivia pulls the passenger side door open. They get Casey seated without too much hassle and Olivia deposits her purse and the drugstore bag at her feet.

“Watch your legs,” Alex says gently as she closes Casey’s door for her, sighing in relief. Halfway there now. She makes eye contact with Olivia and reaches her arm out, putting a warm hand on her elbow as she breathes out, “Thank you. So much.”

"It was no problem. You'll be able to get home okay?" Olivia asks, voice low despite the closed door in an attempt to not disturb Casey's hard-won peace and Alex glances furtively over her shoulder at the car, biting her lip as she considers her girlfriend.

"We'll be fine," Alex says after a moment's pause. "Once we make it into the elevator our apartment is only a short walk away."

"Okay." Olivia nods to herself like she's trying to reassure herself of Casey's safety and well-being. "Call me if you need anything? And, even if you don't, text me later to let me know how she's doing."

"You got it. Thank you for your help."

"Anytime. Seriously, make sure Casey knows that." Olivia gives Casey one last lingering look and Alex is struck by how much of a mother she has become. If she wasn’t before, she’s definitely certain now that Noah must be in good hands with the way Olivia is staring at Casey like a wayward child in need of shelter.

Alex offers up a small smile, wrapping Olivia up into a quick hug. "Of course." And then she's pulling away and giving Olivia a small wave as she clambers into the driver's side of the car. As soon as her seatbelt is clicked into place and the door is closed, Alex reaches over to place the palm of her hand over Casey's forehead. She soothes down her hair and Casey leans into the touch, murmuring to herself unintelligibly. "Ready to get home?" Alex asks softly as she starts the car before turning around to place her purse and briefcase into the backseat. Casey hums her agreement, slumping further into her seat and turning her face to rest the side of her head against the headrest. Her eyes flutter shut but Alex can tell she isn't going to fall asleep no matter how hard she tries by the flush creeping its way up her neck and the hard set to her jawline.

Aware of Casey's discomfort, Alex doesn't waste time in getting them home. Keeping Casey cramped in this car for any longer than necessary is inherently a bad plan so Alex puts her all into driving them home as quickly as possible. She's pulling into the parking garage in record time—a fact attributed in equal parts to Alex's determination and the fact that they've beaten rush hour due to the early end to their day.

It takes them much longer to get out of the car than it had been to get in—Alex having to juggle both of their purses, her briefcase, and the drugstore bag on her arms. She looks like a bellboy with the amount of things she's carrying. And then it takes them even longer to make it to the apartment. Casey nearly falls asleep standing up in the elevator ride even though it was less than thirty seconds long and then she's extra grumpy when exiting it as Alex helps her to their front door. Alex doesn't blame her. She would be grumpy too if she had spent the day in debilitating pain and then was forced to trapeze through her workplace while being half-dragged by two of her coworkers and then trailed through a parking garage and apartment building all so that she could finally get some peace. All things considered, Casey isn't nearly as irritated as Alex would be. That, or she hides it well.

Finally, they make it through the front door, and Alex sets down all of the things in her arms while Casey leans against the entranceway wall. Once her arms are free, she glances at Casey and she says, "Home sweet home." Casey huffs out an unimpressed laugh, knee buckling slightly as she stands. Alex reaches out, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. "Woah—let’s get you laying down. Bedroom or living room?"

"Bedroom," Casey breathes out, eyes closed as Alex adjusts her so that her left arm is slung over her shoulder once again.

"To the bedroom we go," Alex heaves, holding up a good portion of Casey's body weight as they limp their way into the bedroom. Casey stumbles a couple of times across the floor but Alex keeps her upright before eventually being able to pull back the covers and deposit her on the edge of the bed. Casey clumsily kicks off the flats she's wearing immediately and then begins attempting to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers fumble, however, with the small buttons, and with clammy hands, it's nearly impossible to get a grip on anything.

"Let me," Alex offers gently, stepping in between Casey's legs to begin unbuttoning the front of her shirt. Casey's trembling hands fall to her side and she lets her shoulders slump as Alex's fingers work deftly through the buttons. She has the shirt undone in under a minute and carefully slips it off of Casey’s shoulders before dropping it onto the floor. She’ll pick it up later—right now, laundry isn’t her concern. When she glances back up at Casey, she’s staring at Alex with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Startled, Alex stands bolt upright, immediately reaching out for any part of Casey that she can reach.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," Casey whispers, her eyes squeezing shut like if she doesn’t see Alex, her vulnerability doesn’t count, but Alex can still see the way her lip is trembling and the moisture accumulating in the corner of her eyes.

Alex sighs, a soft, sad exhale of breath, and she curls her index finger under Casey's chin to raise her gaze towards her even if her eyes are closed. "Don't be, honey," she says, tone genuine. "I have no problem helping you out when you need it. You aren't a burden." Casey scoffs, opening her eyes but turning her head to the side as she reaches up to harshly rub at them. Alex catches her wrist loosely, tugging it away and using her other hand to wipe away the last remnants of tears accumulating under her eyelashes. "You need to be gentle with yourself. Stuff happens, I get it. And I'm always going to be here for it—good or bad."

"I love you," Casey breathes out, her voice congested as she turns her head to finally look at Alex. There are no other words she can come up with to say.

Alex lets out a long breath through her nose as Casey searches the expression on her face, looking for frustration or annoyance that she won’t be able to find. Alex leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to Casey’s forehead, sweat be damned. Her voice is exceedingly soft when she says, “I love you, too, okay? Of course, I do. So let me take care of you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Alex repeats back to her, eyes crinkling in the corners but she’s not smiling. She lets the tips of her fingers brush over Casey’s collarbones and across her shoulders. "You're still really warm," she observes. "Do you want a shirt to wear or would you prefer just a bra?"

"Just a bra," Casey says, closing her eyes to focus on the way Alex's hands feel against her bare skin. "And shorts please."

“Of course,” Alex says easily, moving away from her, which Casey frowns at when her fingers are no longer toying across her arms. As Alex opens the closet, she tells her, “I’ll help you with your pants in a moment. Sports bra or regular?”

“Sports,” comes Casey’s gruff answer, her voice shaky even just on the one word. When Alex turns around with the clothes she needs in her arms, Casey's eyes are scrunched tighter than they were before. Knowing she’s in pain, Alex resolves to get this done as quickly as possible.

Alex positions herself back in front of Casey, setting down the bra and shorts she had picked out to the side. “We’re going to do your bra first, okay?” Alex doesn’t reach for her until Casey nods, movement stilted, and then once she does, she continues to narrate every move she makes to her. Alex undoes the bra she wore for the day, making quick work of it and adding it to the pile on the floor before helping Casey put on the sports bra she had picked out. It is one of the only ones Casey owns that has a clasp and Alex clips it for her before adjusting it in the front so that it sits comfortably on her chest.

“You know my arms work, right?” Casey asks although she hadn’t made a single effort to help and had kept her eyes tightly closed throughout the whole process. Alex scoffs at her but is otherwise unfazed, used to the way Casey deflects her embarrassment with humor.

Not commenting, Alex announces, “Pants next. I’m going to need you to lift your hips when I tell you to.” Casey nods, finally opening her eyes to watch Alex unbutton her slack, still narrating her actions as she goes. Casey appreciates it—the gesture still gives her some autonomy over what’s happening. Alex gets her pants undone and then holds onto the waistband on each side before saying, “Lift.” Casey does as she’s told, a jolt of pain traveling its way up her left side, and she relaxes back onto the bed as soon as Alex gets the fabric off of her hips. Her trousers join the pile of dirty clothes and then they have to do the whole process again in reverse to get her shorts on. By the time Alex finally tells her she’s able to lie down, Casey’s head is swimming and her vision is clouded.

Casey lies listlessly on her back on the bed as Alex gets changed out of her work clothes. She hears more than sees Alex bend down and pick all the clothes up off the floor and toss them into the hamper. Inexplicably, Casey is overcome with a sudden wave of gratitude from the simple action. After today, she’s going to be determined to find a way to repay her, no matter if Alex insists that is necessary or not. Maybe they’ll go out to a nice dinner.

Eventually, Alex makes it back to Casey’s side, hands resting on the mattress next to her but pointedly not touching her. "Did you still want that massage?" she asks, trepidation underlying her tone. She hadn’t quite been sure if Casey was serious when she agreed and she isn’t looking to pressure or overwhelm her when she was very clearly already having a bad day.

Alex's fears are assuaged relatively quickly when Casey lets out a dreamy sigh and opens her eyes to look at Alex pleadingly. "Would you? Please?"

"Of course, Casey," Alex says, turning to the bedside drawer to rummage through it for the massage oil she knows she left in there from previous nights. Once she finds that, she sets it down on top of the bedside table and steps away from the bed and tells Casey, “I’ll be right back, I just need to grab a towel so the oil doesn’t get on the sheets.” Casey hums in acknowledgment and closes her eyes once again. Alex tries to be fast if only because she’s concerned Casey will fall asleep within the minute that she’s gone. She doesn’t, though, much to Alex’s impressed surprise, and she helps raise her legs with Alex’s help so that the towel can be laid out under her.

Once everything is settled, Alex crawls onto the other side of the bed until she’s at her side and leans across Casey to grab the bottle of oil off the nightstand. As she pours some into her hands, the smell of bergamot floating into the air, she asks, “Do you want both knees done or just your left?”

“Just my left,” Casey says, not sure if she could stand to have her right knee massaged when there was nothing wrong with it. Generally, she was very sensitive about having her legs touched. It was a testament to her state of mind that she was allowing Alex to even massage her one leg. That’s not to say that she isn’t looking forward to this, though, because she definitely is.

Alex starts by lathering the oil over her entire knee plus the surrounding area and then on the back of her leg as well. She starts the massage carefully, almost hesitant, as she traces her finger lightly up the raised scar tissue that trails vertically across Casey’s entire knee. Using her nail to gently feel at the raised edges, Alex runs her finger along it like it's two pages of a book stuck together, longing to be peeled apart and uncovered. She doesn’t continue that gesture for long, knowing that Casey generally lacks patience for light touches. Almost immediately, she begins pressing her thumbs into the spots of Casey’s knee she’s familiar with—the ones Casey always digs at when it rains or after she goes for too long of a run. Her familiarity with Casey’s body helps—she knows her well enough to massage the areas that need it and stay away from the ones that don’t.

Within a matter of minutes, Casey is sighing—a good sigh based on the flush of her cheeks and the relaxed expression she’s wearing—and draping her arm across her face. Alex runs her thumbs parallel to each other across the scar, applying just the right amount of pressure to have Casey groaning, "Mmph," into the crook of her arm before lifting it off of her face to speak more clearly. "God, I love you."

Alex glances up in surprise, a soft smile playing on her lips. Usually, Casey is very limited with her verbal affections—she’s much more tactile and silent with her emotions—but Alex is certainly not complaining. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Casey blushes at the term of endearment and then squirms against the mattress as Alex presses her fingers into the soft tissue at the back of her knee. She makes a vague noise of satisfaction—embarrassingly akin to a whine—and Alex looks up quickly at her, a playful smirk on her face. She doesn’t say anything, however. Instead, she repeats the action and draws out the exact same noise once again. Casey huffs at her but doesn’t make a complaint—Alex is teasing her but she’s also doing more to alleviate her pain than Casey has managed to do all day so, for Casey, it evens out just fine.

Alex spends nearly thirty minutes just focused on Casey’s knee and some of the muscles in her leg that she knows must be sore from Casey tensing them all day. By the time the oil has been fully rubbed into her skin, Casey’s eyes have been closed for a great deal of time and her breathing has evened out. Alex assumes she fell asleep. However, when she stops her ministrations, Casey blinks her eyes open to watch what she is doing. Alex quirks a grin at her, lightly tracing her fingers around Casey’s kneecap as she says, “There are those beautiful eyes. I thought you’d fallen asleep on me.”

“I doubt I could, even if I wanted to,” Casey says mindlessly, unable to think up a more eloquent response and Alex frowns sympathetically, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the top of her knee. Casey, for her part, squirms away from the touch, genuinely laughing for the first time Alex has seen all day. “That tickles,” she explains, her voice lighter than it was before.

“Sorry.” Alex grins crookedly at her, resting her hand atop Casey’s knee instead. She tilts her head, looking from her knee up to Casey’s face. "Do you want me to do your back while I’m at it or did you just want your leg?"

Casey blinks at her slowly as she marvels at how she managed to find a woman like Alex. She’s blown away by her compassion but tries to feign nonchalance when she says, "If you're offering, I'm not going to say no."

Alex raises her eyebrows at her tone but doesn’t comment. “Turn over,” she says easily, choosing to not mention the lovesick look on Casey’s face as she gestures at her. Casey stiffly does as she’s told, movement uncoordinated and rigid. Alex helps, supporting her bad knee whenever she lifts her leg so that she doesn’t irritate it too much. Still, Casey is tense by the time she manages to get onto her stomach. Alex frowns, pouring some more massage oil onto her hands and shifting further up onto the bed so that she’s at Casey’s side. She warms the oil up in her hands first before beginning to spread it over Casey’s skin.

"Relax, Case," Alex hums, hands smoothing over her lower back as she presses her thumbs into a particularly tense area. "You're wound up tighter than Stabler."

Casey huffs, trying to turn her head far enough to the side that Alex can see the way her upper lip curls in disgust. "I am begging you to never mention Elliot Stabler again while you're touching me like this."

Alex laughs. “Point taken." She leans down to place an apologetic kiss to the curve of Casey's shoulder and then lets her lips brush against her skin as she murmurs, "My statement still stands. Take a deep breath and relax. You've had a long day—let me take care of you." Casey tries to do as she’s told, relaxing her muscles as best as she can. It’s not as easy as Alex seems to think it is, with the way her leg is radiating pain, but she knows what Alex means—no reasonable person should be as stiff as a board when receiving a massage like this. If Alex notices that Casey still isn’t fully relaxed, she doesn’t mention it, and for that Casey is grateful.

It takes approximately ten minutes before she starts squirming away from Alex's hands. Casey begins involuntarily moving away from her touch and then forcing herself to keep still before she breaks again and flinches away from her hands once again. She repeats this several times over the course of a couple of minutes, frustrated with her body’s reactive state and determined to not tap out early. Alex gets the hint despite Casey's resistance to admitting that her nervous system has had enough stimulus for one day.

"All done?" Alex asks, amusement coloring her voice as she wipes the oil off of her hands with the towel Casey is laying on.

"Yeah," Casey admits bitterly, dragging the word out hesitantly and Alex sends her a sympathetic smile even though her back is to her.

"That's okay," Alex says easily. "Do you want to put a shirt on? It'll keep the oil from getting on the sheets."

"Yes, please. A tank top." Casey turns her head to watch Alex crawl off the bed and make her way to the closet, searching through the clothes before retrieving an old cutoff tank top that Casey typically uses to exercise in. It’s ratty enough that Casey won’t be upset about getting oil on it. Alex turns and holds it up for her to see, looking for approval and Casey grunts at it. Alex takes that as a positive response.

Alex makes her way back over to the bed and rests her hands on Casey's shoulders, guiding her to sit up and turn over at the same time—which Casey does with a poorly concealed wince. Alex passes the tank top to Casey, who slips it over her head lazily as Alex pulls the towel out from under her and tosses it over near the hamper. Given her sluggish movements, Alex won't be surprised if Casey falls asleep within the hour and sleeps through until morning.

Her suspicions are somewhat confirmed when, as soon as she gets the tank top over her body, Casey groans, "I'm so tired." She falls back against the mattress, boneless, and sinks into the pillows. Alex frowns sympathetically as she grabs a nearby throw pillow, holding it up for Casey to see and gesturing with it towards her leg. Casey nods to the silent question and Alex moves to the foot of the bed, slipping one hand under her left heel and lifting it just enough to slip the pillow under it to elevate her leg. Casey hisses at the movement but otherwise says nothing as Alex pulls the covers up over her.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Alex asks as she makes her way to the other side of the bed and waits for an answer before she slips under the blankets.

Casey hesitates for a moment but she trusts Alex—loves her—so she knows she shouldn't be ashamed of asking for things. She goes for it, voice uncertain when she asks, "Just— hold me, please?"

"Of course." Alex wastes no time in following Casey's request, easily sliding into bed next to her and bundling her up in her arms. She adjusts so that Casey is still laying on her back, her leg still elevated on the pillow, but her head and part of her torso are laid diagonally across Alex's chest. Alex wraps her arms around Casey's waist and slips her hands under the hem of her tank top, splaying her finger across the bare skin of her stomach. "Better?" Alex murmurs, mouth brushing almost directly against the shell of her ear. Casey hums, scooting back so that she's pressed more firmly against Alex.

"Much." And it's true. Even though she's still in pain, she's content. Being here with Alex, laying together in bed before the end of a typical work day, is perfect no matter the reason they ended up in this situation.

Alex presses a kiss onto the top of Casey's head, lips lingering there for a couple of seconds as she whispers, "Good," into her hair.

Quiet falls over them after that and Casey closes her eyes, trying to find peace despite her pain. She only manages a couple of minutes before she has to break the silence. "Can you turn the TV on?" she asks, increasingly aware and self-conscious of all the things she's asking Alex to do.

Alex, for her part, easily agrees with a simple shrug of acknowledgment before moving out from under Casey to reach for the remote on the bedside table. "Anything, in particular, you want to watch?"

"No." Casey pauses, shifting on the mattress restlessly as she waits for Alex to adjust back into their embrace. "Whatever you want. I just need a distraction and I don't want you to get bored if I end up asleep on top of you."

Alex acknowledges her with a distracted nod of her head, flicking through various channels before landing on a cooking segment that they frequently watch together. She leaves the volume low and tosses the remote down onto the mattress, within reach but also not in the way. Alex moves back into the position she was in before, arms coming up to wrap protectively around Casey's shoulders. "I know that right now you're probably still nauseous but let me know if that changes and you get hungry—I can order food."

"Don't wait on my account," Casey murmurs, carefully adjusting herself so that she's pressed further into Alex's side. "If you're hungry, get what you want."

"I'll wait. If you don't end up wanting anything I'll just have leftovers later tonight," Alex says lightly as she moves one of her hands up to begin slowly combing through Casey's hair. Casey lets out a content sigh, turning her face into the crook of Alex's neck and trying to block out any sensation Alex’s touch in hopes that she can simply forget that she's in pain. She knows there's no chance but it at least helps, laying here with Alex while she prays for her pain medication to kick in. Everything is as perfect as it can be given the situation.

"Thank you for being here," Casey says, a million other things she wants to say at the tip of her tongue but she can't manage to form any other coherent sentences. She hopes the way she reaches down to squeeze the top of Alex's thigh conveys the message.

Casey knows she's successful when Alex gives her a rare, lopsided grin and kisses the top of her head before tugging her closer. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."