Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order or any of the characters therein. I do however own Married With Children. Think I don't? Prove it….

Synopsis

Obligation: 1. The act of binding oneself by a moral, legal or social tie to someone 2. A course of action imposed by society, law, or conscience by which someone is bound or restricted. Olivia was a married woman, happy, or so she thought. Then Casey Novak walked into her life and everything got a lot more complicated…

A/N: Ok, so I'm starting another story. Ill advised? Perhaps. This is a bit of a departure for me, but I'm hoping it will go okay. Just a brief bit of back story, this starts when Casey first joins SVU. Olivia and Elliot have been married for a little over a year, and had only been partners briefly before getting involved. Both still work in the Special Victims Unit, but Elliot is partnered with Munch and Olivia with Fin.

Warnings: This will likely contain many mature themes, and any specific things I shall add later. For now the rating will stay as is and I'll bump it up when needed. Plus if you are a rabid E/O fan…odds are, you will not enjoy…

Olivia

It started with a look, an unexpected vulnerable gaze.

I had steamed into the office of our new Assistant District Attorney, Casey Novak, with every intention of tearing her a proverbial new one. The new kid had fucked up, and I was already pissed that she was the never-ever-gonna-measure-up replacement to our previous, much loved ADA Alex Cabot. She'd already raised my hackles with her little wannabe Columbo act on her first crime scene, talking down to me and the crime scene guys like it was our first day on the job. She came off as a stuck up little missus who'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and her head firmly up her ass. I'd thought she needed taking down a rung or two at that juncture.

And then she'd come down to hard on an innocent child who couldn't pick a perp out of the line up and had therefore more than earned herself the castigation marathon I had worked out in my head on the way over to the office, muttering to myself, gripping the steering wheel hard enough I was surprised it didn't come off in my hands.

I threw her office door open, sucking in a breath, ready to release my tirade.

Then she'd looked up at me from the sofa, her neat little brows drawn up sadly, green eyes heavy with that dejected stare, looking every bit the victim herself, and at once, it filled up my heart.

That's where it started, that instant when our eyes met and I knew she needed comfort, not tearing down. And against my better judgement, I gave her just that, squeezing her shoulder and leaving her with a reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

How wrong I was.

Casey

For me, it started the first time she found me at the bar, glass tumbler holding a few rocks of ice melting into a double of something strong enough to make me nearly choke when it hit the back of my throat.

Nothing was going right, nothing.

I hadn't wanted the goddamn assignment, Arthur Branch insisted I was perfect for the job, I believed the precise opposite. There were times in my first weeks in the Special Victims Unit when I thought he wanted me gone, and this was a convenient way of making me walk instead of going to the trouble of firing me.

Then I remembered Branch loved firing people, said it was one of the few joys his job afforded him, and I knew he'd just judged me wrong. Thought I was better than I am, stronger. People do that. I don't help myself by acting the tough girl. Pretending it doesn't bother me. Fake it till you make it, as they say.

Well faking it wasn't working anymore, so forgetting was the next best thing. Talking definitely hadn't helped. Elliot had thrown his two cents in before I'd left the office, but I tire of their stories, their little vignettes of wisdom.

Every time the Detectives want me to take their side with a case, they approach me, with that knowing, 'aren't you a cute little lawyer?' gaze and impart to me an example of a similar situation from their past which of course gives them untenable insight into the situation which I couldn't possibly hope to possess, having only spent twenty seven years here on Gods green earth. Maybe they're wrong, maybe I've lived through and seen a lot more than they think.

Or maybe I'm pissed because they're right, and sometimes I do get lost in all this. Who wouldn't? There are things people do to each other that I just can't get my head around, and then there are the cases I understand all too well, and my impartiality falls away. But nothing seems to fall into the neat space in-between; uncomplicated realms of just guilty or not, by law, not muddied by infinitely debatable moral shades of grey.

Sometimes I solicit their help myself. Swallow my pride and approach Elliot, or Mary, or sometimes Elizabeth. But they won't make my decisions for me, even when that's all I want. A reprieve from my responsibilities. It gets too much sometimes, not that I'd admit that to any of them, so instead I wind up here, giving in to the adult equivalent of clamping your hands over your ears and chanting 'la la la, I can't hear you' and getting drunk enough that I can't even remember what was hurting me. The edges of the room were just about taking on a nice blur when she slid onto the barstool next to me…

*****

Casey didn't attempt to contain the sigh that rose from her chest as the leather jacketed Detective rested her arms on the bar before them, ordering a soda and giving a pitying look to the attorney as she regarded the drink before her.

"It's a little early, don't you think?" Olivia said finally, when the silence started to bear down.

Casey shrugged, the effect amplified by the padded shoulders of her suit jacket, she had gone straight from the courtroom to the bar, "maybe not early enough. Maybe a couple of shots before the closing arguments this morning would have helped. Hell, it couldn't have gone any worse…"

"Hey, don't blame yourself," Olivia said gently.

"Then who should I blame? That bastard for being too good at not getting caught? The law? The jury? Or maybe you and Elliot for not gathering enough evidence to support my case?" Casey swallowed hard at the last suggestion, guiltily averting her gaze to her feet. Olivia didn't need that, and Elliot didn't deserve it either. Luckily, the Detective shouldered the barb.

"I know you're hurting about this, we all are," Olivia said, her voice taking on a soothing timbre, "but guess what? We win as a team, and we lose as a team."

Casey shot the brunette a sideways glance, considering her words. Casey was cautious by nature, she liked to play her cards close to her chest, it was safer that way, less chance of getting burned. But there was a naked sort of sincerity in Olivia's espresso dark eyes, and perhaps it was that, or perhaps it was just the alcohol already dulling her restraint, but she found herself saying,

"Sometimes I don't really feel a part of that team."

Shit.

Way to go Novak, that didn't sound at all needy or like a five-year-old who has just been left out of the neighbourhood game of hide-and-seek, she chided herself the hell had she gone to a bar anyway? Drinking at home was a perfectly acceptable and healthy thing to do. She'd remind herself of that next time: When consuming copious volumes of inhibition draining liquids, avoid interaction with other humans. Especially other humans who happened to inhabit the same work sphere.

Casey tensed her shoulders, ready for the ridicule, rebuke or awkward silence which would inevitably follow.

Next to her, she heard the other woman hop off the barstool, her boots creating a heavy thud. She was actually leaving. That was not a response Casey had imagined, but it just about fucking figured.

No matter.

She hadn't sought company, so Olivia walking out wasn't about to rain on her whisky fuelled parade. Hell no. The floats had only just started down the street and the tickertape hadn't even been released. She rose the glass to her lips, about to take another sip of the veritable paint stripper masquerading as a drinkable beverage when she head a voice behind her say.

"Come on."

Curious, Casey turned around to see Olivia standing behind her, car keys in one hand, the other gesturing toward the exit.