Rafael in Green and Yellow
A/N: This is a little something I wrote when I was really into SVU for a bit and Barba was seriously the most refreshing thing I had ever seen. I really liked him and wanted to do a kind of tribute to him that I never do: have him interact with a person he normally would not encounter. As I have proceeded with watching some episodes here and there, I can say I called it on the kid-thing but otherwise, I'm still unsure of just how true the character is to what the show was portraying at that time (mid-Season 14).
ooOoo
There's a moment of disconnect when the small body impacts his own. Barba freezes. He looks down at the small head pressed into his stomach and sighs.
Of course he would be wearing his best suit when a child covered in something wet and sticky latches onto him. He glances up at the gathered SVU detectives. Olivia has a hand over her mouth, but he doubts she's horrified. Fin is outright laughing and Rollins and Amaro look amused.
"Hi," he says softly, and the kid, a young boy, maybe eight or so, with large brown eyes and ruddy cheeks peeks up at him. "I'm Rafi."
"I'm Michael," the kid says and tightens his grip on Barba's jacket. "I don't want to go back."
"Go back where, Michael?"
"To that room where they ask questions. I don't like it."
Barba shoots a questioning look at Olivia, but she ducks her head. She's laughing too, and he hates her so much. "I'm sure I would hate it too," he says to Michael, and Michael nods solemnly. "Did they make you finger paint?"
"Yes. No. Maybe."
"That's not an answer."
"Do I have to answer?"
Rollins steps forward when Barba shakes his cup at her, and Amaro takes his briefcase with barely a glare. Empty handed now, he kneels, moving Michael backward so he can look at him more thoroughly. "Not right at this moment. But, if you don't want to go back in that room, you'll have to tell me about what went on in there."
"They let me paint, but I didn't use my fingers." The smile he shoots Barba is brilliant. And missing at least two teeth that Barba can see. He holds out his shirt and Barba notes the paint that covers the material. It's all over Michael's arms and pants too. And now it's all over him. They are both green and yellow with a few dashes of red and blue mixed in.
"Well, that was an interesting choice."
"Rafi," Michael says, moving forward to wrap still-sticky arms around Barba's neck, "I like you. Don't ever change."
"Has anyone ever said that to you?"
Michael pulls away and refuses to make eye contact.
"I'm sorry," Barba says. "I had no right to ask you that."
Michael pokes a tongue through his missing front tooth. "He told me that."
"Did you—?" Barba starts, but forces himself to stop. It's not his job to question this child. Not yet, anyway. Right now, though, it seems his job is keeping Michael happy.
"Did I what?" Michael asks.
He looks expectant, and Barba doesn't want to disappoint him, so he locks eyes with Olivia and says, "Did you want to get an ice cream?" Michael nods enthusiastically, Barba feels it against his shoulder when the kid hugs him again, and Olivia nods, less happily, but still.
"Let's get a little cleaned up—don't want to eat paint, do ya? And then we'll go. There's a great stand about a block and a half from here."
"Cool," Michael says.
At the disapproving looks of all the detectives, Barba asks, "Also, who do you like best?"
"I like you best, Rafi."
"I meant of the detectives. I think one of them likes ice cream too."
Michael thinks long about this. Barba's only lament is that the paint is drying and will be harder to scrub off (but his clothes just might become salvageable if it does solidify enough to scrape). Eventually, Michael points at Amaro, who hands Rollins the briefcase. Gamely, Amaro follows them to the men's room where it's another battle to get Michael to stand still long enough to wipe the paint away.
Barba presses his lips together and lets Michael wash his tie as he studies the bruises covering the little boy's arms. He glances at Amaro, who shrugs. Michael pretends not to notice them staring, singing a song about a rubber ducky.
Someone knocks on the door, and Rollins pokes her head inside. "ACS is here," she says. Amaro two-finger salutes her and she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her.
"So," Barba says, and Michael suddenly latches on to him again. "Hey, it's going to be okay."
"I want ice cream, Rafi. I want you to take me for ice cream."
"Maybe we'll ask the ACS person," he says and shrugs. "Maybe the person will join us too. Let's go." Michael takes a hold of his hand, squeezing three of Barba's fingers as they pass through the door Amaro holds for them.
Outside the bathroom, the ACS agent, a middle-aged woman with frazzled hair and thick glasses, waits with Olivia and Fin. Rollins is hiding by her desk, holding onto Barba's coffee and briefcase.
"Hey, Michael," the woman says, leaning down and patting Michael on the head. "I'm Sara. I'm here to take you to a new home for a bit."
"I want to live with Rafi," Michael says. He pulls at Barba's hand, a thumb from his other hand flying toward his mouth. Barba intercepts it, and lets Michael twist his index finger while he stares at Sara.
"Well, as much as I'm sure Rafi would love to have you, you need to come with me now."
"Sara," Barba says, and she jerks like he hit her. Now she knows what it's like to have someone you don't know say your name. "We were about to go for ice cream. If you'd like, you can join us."
"I don't think," she says, flustered. "I really need to get Michael settled at his new home."
"It can wait for ice cream," he says. Olivia shakes her head, and he glares at her. "It will help Michael get to know you a bit more before you whisk him away."
"But I'm staying with you, Rafi," Michael protests. He pouts when Barba shakes his head.
"Let's go," Amaro says suddenly, "the ice cream stand closes in half an hour. If we want adequate choosing time, we need to go now."
"Okay then," Barba says, and he lifts Michael up onto his shoulders. "We'd better move fast then."
Sara follows them as they tromp down the front steps of the precinct. She doesn't try to stop them, and the ice cream man looks a little overwhelmed as they converge on his stand.
Bewildered, he hands each of them a cone Michael chooses for them, and Barba pays him for the four ice creams, with a double scoop for Michael.
Amaro points them toward an open bench and they all sit, Michael wedged between Sara and Barba. Michael happily talks to Sara the entire time they eat, but his other hand grips Barba's firmly, and Barba can feel his heartbeat in his fingers.
"I think it's time," Sara finally says, when only Barba has his cone left. Michael reaches up with renewed sticky hands, and Amaro slaps a wet nap on them. Barba is grateful, and he laughs at Michael's expression of sorrow as Amaro wipes him clean.
"Do you need him to talk to anyone before you go?" Amaro says to Sara, and she looks flustered again. "He's got these," he motions at the bruises, and Michael glares at him.
"Rafi," he says, petulant, and maybe a bit overtired. "Up."
Barba obediently stands and hoists him up. He settles him above his hip, letting him swing his dangling legs. Michael loops his arms around Barba's neck, tucking his head under his chin and sighing contentedly.
"I don't think so. I just need to document any injuries before we leave. It might be pertinent to have a doctor look at him, just to be safe."
"A doctor already examined him. He was being interviewed by Special Victims when Mr. Barba walked in. Michael is very attached to him, and it might become, uh, pertinent to let him stay with him for a few days."
"What is Mr. Barba's relationship with Special Victims?"
"I'm the ADA for some of their cases," Barba says. "I don't work with children, though, so I wouldn't be handling his case."
"But you'll still love me, right?"
Barba blinks rapidly, shifting side to side. He doesn't feel comfortable right now, and by the looks on their faces, neither does Amaro or Sara.
"Rafi," Michael whines, and Barba smiles sadly. "You love me, right? You'll always love me."
"Michael, we need to go back to the police station. You are tired and I know the perfect place to rest."
"Don't wanna."
Sara makes a motion with her hand that either means, "You need to hand over that child immediately" or "I like broccoli very much." Either way, Barba ignores her. He knows Amaro is trailing him, so he walks quickly, strides purposeful. After a few moments, he hears Sara's heels clap against the sidewalk, and they march back to the precinct.
Benson and Rollins are waiting by Benson's desk when they get back, and Barba slides the sleeping, sticky child into Benson's arms. He slips around the desk and hides in the men's room, locking himself in a stall.
He hears Sara wake up Michael, hears the boy cry for him, hears Benson tell him that "Rafi" had to leave.
He sits on the toilet after covering it with at least a dozen paper covers, pulling his feet up too. He crosses his arms over his knees and pushes his face into them.
He smells like strawberry and chocolate ice cream and paint and something child. He hates it so much, but he hates himself more.
Amaro bangs on the door after about an hour or so, and Barba reluctantly uses pin-and-needle feet to drag himself out to the bullpen.
Benson's disappointment is not entirely unexpected, but Fin's is. Amaro looks the same, a tight, angry look pinching his face while Rollins is nowhere to be found.
"What's the damage?" Barba whispers, flinching as three heavy gazes lock onto his face.
Benson sighs. "He'll adjust. Kids his age usually do. It might be a good idea for you to visit him with him in his placement home."
"How can I? I don't know where he's been placed."
"Also, support him at the trial," Amaro suggests.
"And get to know more about him," Fin weighs in.
Barba nods at all of them. "I can do all that. If I know where he is."
"Most of all, though," Rollins says, and Barba turns around to face her where she's appeared. She's holding Michael's hand, and the kid looks too happy to see him. "Most of all, be Rafi."
Sara stands behind them. "Your lucky day, Mr. Barba," she says. "Michael's placement happens to be you."
Rollins drops Michael's hand and Michael runs toward Barba.
"My lucky day indeed," Barba says, freezing as Michael embraces him again.
"You love me, Rafi," he says.
Barba puts his hand on the kid's shoulder and smiles. Maybe he does love the kid a little already, just maybe.
~ The End ~
A/N: Unrealistic at best. But, it's not any worse than they'd do in the actual show, so deal with it. As always, let me know if something is grammatically incorrect or just doesn't make sense. Thanks!