A/N: Another update so soon after the last? I know it's shocking haha. This is slightly shorter, and a lot of it isn't moving the story forward, but I needed a chapter to fill in Alex's emotional state at the moment. I hope this does that. Thanks again for all your lovely comments - I'm sure I don't deserve such lovely readers.

It still feels foreign to Alex, unlocking the front door to this townhouse that she's never lived in, filled with furniture that she didn't pick out (aside from the new bed she hasn't slept in; and a chair that was her grandmother's, which she'd carried over from her parents' home, along with a box of knickknacks from her childhood bedroom that had resurfaced during the period of time in which she was considered 'dead'). She'd happily signed the lease on this place, taking it with its original furnishings, knowing she would probably spend no length of time here. Logically speaking, it would make more sense to stay at her parents' house any time she dropped into town, but she just can't bear the thought of all its empty rooms, making small talk with the staff she grew up with… all the ghosts that live there.

Not that this apartment is much better. That's the problem; Alex doesn't really feel like she belongs anywhere in New York anymore. This city is filled with ghosts, with people who remember her as she was. She isn't that woman anymore. She doesn't remember how to even fake it, let alone actually be her.

But Casey's different. She's willing to try for Casey, for a number of reasons, but most of all because of California. She thinks that maybe Casey understands what its like to be expected to be something, and then not live up to that expectation. She thinks maybe Casey's whole time at the ADA's office may have been like that.

Or maybe that's just a lie she's telling herself to excuse the fact that she's been thinking about her constantly since setting foot in the city.

The thought of seeing anybody else she knows here is terrifying. Stepping into the DA's office Alex had been so self-conscious, nodding tersely at former-colleagues or refusing to meet their eyes entirely. She's not stupid; she'd been aware of the murmurs that followed her, the eyes watching her as she walked into Jack's office. It felt like she held her breath the entire time, only barely managing to let it go once she was in the safety of her rental car.

At least she'd avoided Olivia, Elliot, Cragen… all the others.

Still, putting on a brave face for Casey, pretending like nothing's wrong… that's something she can do. She may be rusty, out of practice, but she's still an expert at it. Vulnerability isn't her strong suit. It's far easier to pretend that everything's fine when she's only under the scrutiny of one woman. Especially one woman who needs her. God, it's been a long time since she felt needed. Maybe it's selfish to think like that, but it had been a painful decision to stay in the city when it felt as though New York was suffocating her, and Casey's all that's keeping her here. Because if she left, and something happened… well, she'd never forgive herself. Even if Casey has made it quite clear she doesn't want her help.

She'd been assertive at the hospital; full Alex-Cabot-mode activated, ensuring Casey got the best of everything. She'd talked the doctors into letting her leave early, by-passing laws and procedures and bending all kinds of rules, and she knows she'd looked convincing, because they let her. But on the taxi ride, she'd deflated, and now she feels exhausted, the pressure of the last few days collapsing in on her tenfold. Alex doesn't argue when Casey tells her she's taking the couch; she doesn't have it in her to fight anymore. She takes longer than she ought to fetching bedding - also salvaged from her parents' house - needing a moment to herself, to control her breathing, to stop the panic attack she knows she's on the brink of, and it's only the worry that Casey's alone that draws her back into the living room.

They're both ticking time bombs, grenades unpinned, and at this point she has no idea which of them is likely to detonate first.

Or maybe one of them already has.

She's reminded of just how serious all of this is when she walks into the living room to find Casey's already disobeying doctor's orders and picking at her stitches. Alex has tried to gloss over the reality of how she found Casey, of the fact she interrupted a suicide attempt, that whatever's going on with the redhead is more than just the possibility of disbarment, but then there it is in black and white, and for a second Alex wonders if it wasn't selfish of her to get her discharged. Casey isn't well. What makes Alex think she can magically fix her when a hospital can't?

She has so many questions, but she knows that she isn't allowed to ask any of them, that she left even if it wasn't her decision, and that took away any right she might have had to pry. (She could have come back, after all. It's been almost a year…). It's none of her business. Casey's already made that quite clear. So she dresses the wound, and it's okay if she lingers a little too long at Casey's side once it's done, because at least she's fighting the urge to kiss her.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather sleep in my bed? I'm happy to take the couch. I haven't slept in it so it wouldn't be any trouble…" Alex finally says, interrupting the stagnant, awkward silence between them which feels like it might never end.

Of course, it's the wrong thing to say. She knows Casey's going to question where the hell she's been for the last two years before she's even finished. Why does she have a fully furnished apartment in New York City if she doesn't live here anymore? Honestly, Alex doesn't know. She just couldn't quite bear not to.

The apology though… that she hadn't expected. She softens at Casey's words, feeling this lump form in the back of her throat that threatens to break her. She wants to tell Casey that she's allowed to be selfish, that all she should be thinking of right now is herself, if that will help this to heal. But she doesn't, making some quip about timing instead, as if she hasn't spent the last three days thinking about how if she'd been even a couple of minutes later breaking into Casey's apartment, she might have been too late. Casey's right, the timing was perfect. The only way it could have been more so, is if she'd had the guts to come back a year ago instead.

She relents in letting Casey take the couch, even after asking if she's sure a further three times. It's only a little before ten when they decide to call it a night. Alex fights the urge to tuck Casey in, lingers at the door a little longer than necessary, before feeling guilty for it. Casey's not a baby. She doesn't need monitoring 24/7. Alex eventually realises she has to trust her or this is never going to work.

(Of course it helps that Alex's kitchen is entirely empty aside from a bottle of wine and two glasses, but even those, she considers hiding.)

It's been days since Alex even attempted sleep, and she's exhausted down to her bones, but somehow as soon as she slips under the sheets, she's wide awake. It's a lingering side-affect of her time in WITSEC, the inability to fall asleep. She's just about got used to the sounds of DC at night, the pattern of light spilling across her bed from the blinds over her window in the impersonal apartment she rents there. New York should feel like home, but it doesn't. There's nothing comforting about the sounds of the city that she'd longed for for so long.

Still, she tries. She thinks maybe if she lies still in the dark for long enough she might trick her brain into doing the hard work for her, but instead it just keeps steadily ticking over, her mind a rolodex of worries, ever turning. Her therapist says she ought to use logic to still those thoughts. He's given her anti-anxiety exercises before; sheets of paper to fill out, sequences of alternative thoughts to go through… none of it has ever worked.

Alex has no idea how long has passed when she hears footsteps outside her door. She's not supposed to fixate on the time, and anyway, there's no clock in the bedroom yet, and her cell phone is plugged in on the other side of the room. She holds her breath, waiting. The bathroom is right next door, and she feels sure that that's where Casey's headed, which just leads to more spiralling anxieties. Has she left anything in there that she shouldn't have? Casey's bag of meds from the hospital is hidden in the closet, painkillers and anxiety medication in the drawer. Nothing sharp. It's awful that she has to run this mental checklist but…

The door creaks open, and for a moment Alex considers pretending to be asleep, before deciding against it. She rolls over, sitting up and automatically reaching for her glasses on the nightstand. In the unfamiliar room, she misses, knocking them onto the floor. Through the darkness, she feels rather than sees Casey hand them back to her.

"Sorry," Casey mumbles.

"Don't be."

Awkwardly standing at the side of the bed, Alex can just make out Casey's outline. She tries to offer her a reassuring smile, but can't find her eyes in the dark.

"Would it be okay if…"

"Sure," Alex says, not letting her finish. She shifts in the bed, relieved that she hasn't misread the situation when she feels Casey climb in next to her.

They lie in silence, not quite touching, but only a hair's width between them. Casey's breathing is loud, uneven, her body radiating tension. Being so close to her, but not touching, is excruciating, even if she smells unfamiliar, like hospital bleach and cheap shampoo. It's been so long since Alex shared the bed with anybody, not since…

"I don't trust myself to be alone."

Casey's voice is so small that Alex almost misses it. It feels like her words suck all the air out of the room. Closing the gap between them, Alex tentatively wraps an arm around her middle, pulling her close. She hears Casey let out a shaky breath, every place that their bodies are touching feeling electric.

"Is this okay?" Alex murmurs, close to Casey's ear.

She can hear in Casey's voice that she's crying as she breathes a 'yes'.