a/n: Amaro/Barba for what I hope are obvious reasons. Also some Amaro/Rollins (as a shameless plot device, to maintain tradition). Set throughout season 15 and jumps all over the place, chronology be damned. Hastily proofread, so read at your own risk and please forgive any errors in continuity.

Set yourself on fire

It takes four months, three days, eleven hours and twenty-one minutes for Nick's whole life to fall apart.

He's not a stranger to broken pieces, he's had his hands cut a few times, small shallow wounds that sting something awful but heal over fast and barely leave a scar.

It's the point-blank shots to the chest that hurt the worst, just beneath where his maybe-ex-wife used to put her hand when they danced together, early in their courtship and on the night of their wedding. There's so much to be said about betrayal but in fact, he might have been more comfortable had she stabbed him in the back when she slams her car door with his daughter in the back seat. But no, Maria knows where to hit and when she hits, she hits hard and doesn't miss. A foot away from him, so that he can smell her perfume and know that it's not one that he's been buying for her for years. He has to look her in the face when she shoots and know that had he not been the one to put the hurt in her eyes, she wouldn't have had a reason to shoot at all.

It been four months, three days, eleven hours and twenty-one minutes since that moment, and he's barely noticed himself flying off the handle. He doesn't know where his anger ends and the hurt begins. He doesn't know what's justified and what's not but he does know how to use his fists.

So he beats on a suspected child molester and doesn't see any of the reasons not to.

But there are reasons.

Several of them, Murphy maintains, furious and disappointed as he looks at Nick through the bars of the holding cell. Olivia beside the sergeant has that goddamned expression on her face that she usually wears whenever Nick acts out. It gives him a feeling that although she's looking in the cell, in between his eyes, she isn't looking at him.

And Amanda.

He doesn't know where the hurt ends and his shame begins.

It's raining when he first goes to the DA's office for something outside of work.

Rafael looks up from his paperwork and seems to know this, "What can I do for you Nick?"

Nick winces at the faux-familiarity in the question. They only know each other as Counselor and Detective. But Nick isn't here as a detective and Rafael, knowing this, treads carefully.

"My wife," says Nick, shakier than he intended.

"Your ex-wife?"

"My wife."

"Why don't you sit down."

Nick sits, clenches his hands together in his lap, and then lifts one to wipe the rainwater off his forehead with the sleeve of his coat.

"What can I do for you?" Rafael leans back in his chair not really intending to look predatory but too used to doing so to help himself.

"She took Zara."

"Your daughter?"

"Yeah."

"Where did they go?"

"She took a job in D.C. She said we could about it but-"

"She didn't feel much like talking."

Rafael considers this for a moment, but doesn't let his gaze fall from Nick. Feeling uncomfortable Nick shifts in his chair, clenching his hands again.

"D.C.'s quite the drive from here. Hope your car's good on gas," Rafael says finally, looking away and opening up one of the files on his desk.

Bewildered, Nick waits, staring intently at the man across from him.

"Anything else?" Rafael doesn't look up from the file he's examining with furrowed brows.

"What that's… it? That's all you have to say? I came to you-"

"I know why you came, Detective Amaro. I also know that you know, or rather, have no way of not knowing that I am a criminal prosecutor and as such I have no bearing on the custody status of your daughter," Rafael finally looks up, raising his eyebrows he adds, "Or have you not noticed the several occasions where I've prosecuted your suspects?"

Nick has in fact noticed. He has also noticed the way Rafael can bite out words and make a defendant flinch the way a person does when they are about to be physically assaulted. It's a courtroom tactic, made to make the person on the witness stand feel trapped and helpless. Using it against Nick, already more trapped and helpless than he has ever been in his whole life, is overkill.

It shows on Nick's face and it seems to dawn on Rafael that Nick isn't on the stand, so he says a little quieter, "If you wanted legal help getting your daughter back, you wouldn't be here, you would be in family court. I'm sorry."

Nick grits his teeth, not knowing what else to do.

"Thanks for your help, Counselor," he mutters and leaves the office cursing himself.

A few days before the mayoral election, Olivia sidles up next to him at his desk, "Nick, sidebar?"

They excuse themselves but before they can make it out the door, Rollins calls after them and stands up at her desk, "Hey are you guys on a coffee run, 'cause I-"

"I'll bring you back one," Olivia smiles.

Rollins' own smile fades but she accepts defeat and sits back down, "Nick, you know how I take it?"

He nods and follows Olivia into the elevator. She stands where Barba had been only thirty minutes ago.

"You alright? You look a little flustered," she says without looking at him as the elevator begins to descend.

"I'm fine."

She doesn't say anything else for the moment, but picks up as soon as they're out of the building falling into routine and heading to the Starbucks on the corner, "Barba… he has that affect on people."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs, "Don't get me wrong, he's a good lawyer. I daresay we're even friends."

"Then you're some daredevil," Nick tries to say it as a joke, but it comes out sounding just plain spiteful.

"Something happen between you two?"

He sighs, "Nah. I told you," he holds the door for her as they enter the coffee shop, "Barba's… y'know, smart. Or whatever."

"You think he's objective?"

"Do you think he's objective?"

"Nick," she stands in front of him in the line and faces him, "Everybody is entitled to a past. Everybody is entitled to feelings."

"That's what makes it a conflict of interest."

"Give him a little more credit than that. He said he wanted to recuse himself."

"You know Barba, if he genuinely wanted that he'd have found a way. He's tipping off Muñoz, they're friends. Liv, they're more than friends, they're brothers. "

"I said he was a good lawyer, but he's at the mercy of the DA. You know how that is."

Nick steps forward so that he's standing beside her. He looked over the heads of the next few people in line and then around the rest of the shop. This is the longest wait ever.

"Did something happen with you two?" Olivia asks again, bringing him back into the conversation.

"I told you, no. Never. The opposite of something."

At this, she smiles, "You mean, 'nothing'."

"Less than that," they're finally at the front of the line, "Three coffees, mild please."

Over by the condiment stand, he slams a lid on his fully aware of Olivia watching him. He ignores the fact that his face hasn't stopped burning since Barba left him standing in the elevator as he adds three sugars and a generous splash of cream to Rollins' coffee.

"Look Nick, I'm so sorry about all this."

He looks at Amanda Rollins as she says this but he doesn't see her. His head is in DC, his blood boiling, tries to tell himself to stay calm but it doesn't help. Theories sprout in his head and in his heart and none of them paint a pretty picture.

"It's not your fault," that's all he wants to say but it doesn't look like that'll do it for Amanda, "For all I know, Maria's been playing me the whole time."

"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't … right? Now I know y'all have your differences a-and everything… I know it was hard on you both with the marriage but, Nick, you don't think she would really-"

"I don't know what to think. I didn't think. I just asked her and she said yes."

Its been a long time since Maria has answered positively to any of what Nick's been saying or trying to say. It had felt like a small step, a little bit of light to warm him up inside when he'd been feeling so cold lately. He knows he has himself to blame for her mistrust to him but he'd hoped… all those years together. There was a time he'd been good at reading her, a time when if he'd suspected even the slightest bit of sadness in her voice, he dropped everything and drew her close to him.

Still, he tries and tries in vain to draw her close to him. And this time it almost costs them their case. A pair of flaming green eyes sear his mind, but he doesn't let himself paint the rest of the face in his head.

"Look I'm sorry. I'm really out of it. Maria she… she just… "

Silence. And then a small cough alerts both detectives to a third presence.

"Detective Amaro," says Barba, standing in the doorway of station, expression unreadable, "A word?"

Amanda watches the two of them step onto the porch. The door shuts behind them. It's raining so they stand at the top of the stairs, the height of the building shielding them a little. As she stands there the rain gets heavier, but they don't notice, and eventually, realizing that the conversation isn't going to end any time soon, she heaves a sigh and heads back upstairs.

"What can I do for you Counselor?" Nick says, starting off the conversation with a stone cold voice and zero eye contact.

"I'm sorry if I was… irate with you today. I suspect they never told you about the Garrity warning at the Academy."

He chances a glance at Barba who, given that he doesn't t seem like a man to enjoy admitting a mistake and apologizing for it, is looking right at him with narrowed eyes. He's breathing heavily, as though whether or not Nick accepts the apology is a matter of great importance to him.

Nick shakes his head once, "Already forgotten."

Barba nods, the corners of his lips quirking upwards for a split second before his expression morphs back into its customary scowl.

"How's it looking for Amelia?" Nick asks.

"Well, that depends on how Benson does with the alleged fourth rapist."

"How'd you-"

Barba raises his eyebrows, "I don't know."

"… Alleged rapist?"

Barba quasi-smiles, "We'll see. Now we wait."

"Stuff like this you know, makes me wonder… it isn't easy even at the Academy for a woman. I'm sure stuff went on."

"Stuff goes on everywhere. That's why we're in this job," Barba fumbles around in his suit, produces a cigarette from underneath his jacket and puts it between his lips, "Amaro, smoke?"

"Only when I'm stressed."

He hands one over, and lights it for him with an engraved zippo, "Me too."

"Really? Then how many sets of lung transplants have you gone through?"

Barba laughs shallowly and Nick finds himself smiling too. A little bit of Barba's hair is wet, just where his forehead is. There's a pause in the conversation as both men smoke. Nick knows that if Benson returns and sees them like this, she'll chastise both of them for smoking just outside the door, but at the same time, he doesn't want to leave, he has so much he wants to say to Barba. He feels compelled to tell the counselor that he would never jeopardize the case on purpose, that it was stupid for him ask something like this from his maybe-ex-wife. But he'd been seconds away from breaking down with Amanda, and he doesn't know that he isn't still in danger of doing so now.

Anger rises up again in his throat. His free fist balls and he lets the cigarette in his other hand dangle between two fingers.

"Your wife," Barba says suddenly, in a little more than a whisper, "Is it possible…"

"I'm getting a divorce. My ex-wife is gonna date some idiot and my daughter's gonna have him for a father. And me? I'm gonna be the sleep-deprived ex-husband, 'Uncle Nick' to Maria's new children, sitting in a corner at my Zara's communion, confirmation, graduation…"

"Amaro-"

"Anything is possible, Counselor."

"Zara isn't ever going to call anyone else her father but you, " Barba sighs, "I don't like that I have to tell you this, but if Maria set you up, there are legal proceedings you can take, should take, even."

Nick shakes his head and crushes his cigarette with the heel of his right shoe.

"Even if you don't think it matters…"

"It doesn't. Maria didn't do this."

"You aren't exactly objective-"

"You're right, I wasn't, before… when I thought that maybe she'd done something like this to screw me."

"You don't think she's capable of that?"

"Nah," Nick shakes his head again and looks at Barba, "That'd be too easy. That'd give me a genuine reason to hate her. And I don't. I can't."

"If you're sure-"

"I'm sure, Barba. This isn't Maria."

"Then you should get in touch with her. Tell her to be careful. Clearly someone knows that she was digging around for you, and they used her and you to get to the case. Could be a vendetta against her or NYPD, or just them protecting their own."

Rafael says the words, but isn't sure them reach him as Nick looks too tired to do any of these things. His eyes are red-rimmed and he has missed a little patch of stubble just beneath his jawline.

"You were right about Muñoz too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

At this, Nick laughs, which startles Rafael because it's a full, hearty laugh, one that he's never heard from the detective before. He puts a hand on Rafael's shoulder.

"Stop apologizing, Counselor, it doesn't suit you."

Rafael drops his gaze, suddenly keenly aware both, of where they are and the unexpected warmth of Nick's hand, reflected in his eyes as well, "I-I'm sorry I couldn't help with your daughter."

"What did I say about apologies," Nick withdraws his hand detecting, perhaps, a hint of discomfort from Rafael, he smiles to reassure him, "I should be apologizing to you. I'm sorry about how things fell apart with Muñoz. He was your brother, and I know how that is. But for what it's worth, even if does end up with the glory and the girl, you did your best to make things right. He'll come to realize that someday and then, where you will have no regrets, he will have many."

Taken aback by his monologue, Rafael draws back a little, but realizing that Nick isn't leaving until he at least gets an acknowledgement, Rafael meets his eyes.

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

Nick embarks upon a casual friendship with Rafael. Or at least, that's his intention when he stops by his office after a particularly grisly case with a cup of coffee and a hesitant smile.

He finds Rafael in rare disheveled state. He's sitting at his desk with his tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. He's has his chair swung parallel to the desk, and Nick sees that the hair at the base of his neck is mussed, sticking out perpendicular to his head. He only looks up when Nick puts the coffee down on his desk.

"How you holding up?" asks Nick.

Rafael looks down at his desk, "I'm… I don't know," he flicks his gaze to the coffee, then to Nick for a split second, "Sit?"

"Sure."

"How's the weather outside."

"Nice night. Cool air. Here…" he slides the coffee towards Rafael, "You look like you need it."

"I need to rinse my brain with soap and water," he grimaces, takes a sip of coffee and then sets it down, "I just hate it when there's kids involved."

Nick peers at Rafael, his back is stiff and his eyes are narrowed, their fire has fizzled out for the day. The air in the room is heavy and thick, like its consumed too many negative feelings and gotten fat with anxiety.

"I don't have children," Rafael begins again, "And this job sometimes… makes me think, god, do I really want to bring any into this mess of a world? What's the point?" then as if suddenly remembering himself, he clears his throat, "Sorry, Nick. I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry. I know what you meant. I'd kill anyone who even looked at mine for a second too long."

"Ah, yes. You have a son. Maria must have been thrilled," Rafael catches himself again and winces, "Damn, I'm sorry Nick, I-I… I'm just really tired and… maybe you should-"

"I'm not leaving you here like this, Rafael," Nick says, surprising them both for a moment before he laughs it off, "Who knows what you'll do. Anyways… you're right. That little discovery, the whole, surprise-you're-a-dad-again-by-another-woman sort of eviscerated any hope I had of saving my marriage."

Rafael smiles sadly at their mutual defeat. In the past he would've just gone home, made sure to get a good night's rest, then come back to work in the morning and put away more criminals as a method of dealing with his feelings, but his legs feel too heavy to move.

Across from him, Nick feels a similar heaviness overcome him. He takes in Rafael in a way that he's not totally sure he wants to. But Rafael has a way about him that demands attention, it's what makes him such an affective attorney. But here in his office, after the details of his job have ground him down to his current state – jacket flung across his chair, shirt and hair rumpled, face dull and sad – there's not much left of his previous spark. Or so it would seem, perhaps, to a casual acquaintance. But to Nick, a frequent after-hours visitor ever since the day they talked and smoked and apologized incessantly to one another outside the precinct in the rain, Rafael Barba is well, not so much an acquaintance anymore. Nick's eyes travel upwards, over the expanse of his chest, to his eyes, green like… like… something he's seen before but can't quite put his finger on, something warm and something he wants to know better.

He gets the full effect of those eyes a second later, as they snap to him, questioningly, noticing the way Nick has relaxed in the chair, and the way his coffee threatens to fall out of his softened grip.

"Nick?"

As if on command, Nick stands up, walks around the side of the desk and leans against it and then lowers himself slightly, "Listen, I know we got off to a rocky start but… you know, I really respect the work that you do."

Rafael, completely blindsided by the tone of Nick's voice and the curve of his abdomen as he tilts his body, struggles to come up with a logical explanation. His mind races, or tries to race, anything to distract himself from noticing the way his heart is actually fluttering and leaps with every puff of warm breath on his face.

Nick is married, well, sort of married. Nick has a child with two different women. Nick can't stand him. He can't stand Nick. Nick smells like paper and pine and oh god, here? Now? Rafael's mind can't think and his body can't move.

Except of course, for his mouth. Before he can stop himself, his lips quirk into a smirk that he himself doesn't condone, "My… work?"

"Yeah."

"Is that…" as if to be entirely sure about what's going to happen next, Rafael makes a point of looking at the closed blinds, gaze lingering there poignantly, before looking back to Rafael, "… all?"

Nick smiles, remarkably calm, "You look tired."

He reaches out, unbuttons the first button on the other man's shirt, maddeningly maintaining the distance between them so that Rafael is forced to grab hold of his tie, pull Nick's lips to meet his own and give his eyes a well deserved rest.

For a lawyer, Rafael doesn't ask too many questions.

He doesn't ask why or when or for how long. He just melts into Nick whenever he's drawn close. For a few weeks, Nick is dutifully on Rafael's doorstep twenty minutes after his shift at the precinct ends. The first few times he goes into over time, he calls Rafael to make sure its okay to show up late, but finds that the man is always awake, even when he gets off shift close to one or two in the morning. So he just shows up.

Rafael doesn't even ask Nick for his number, so frustrated by this, he steals his precious Blackberry one day over breakfast and programs it in, "If you ever need me, call me."

Unexpectedly, Rafael is soft and pliant underneath Nick's hands. He whimpers when he's touched between the shoulders or in the small of his back, and Nick revels in it. Figures though, lion in the courtroom, kitten in the bed. This is doubly true in the mornings, when Rafael is sprawled out over three-quarters of the bed and if roused too early will push himself upwards so that he can rest his chin atop Nick's head, this rest of his limbs curling around his lover, and toy with his short, dark hair. Nick teases him about it, say that this will make him bald faster, and it's the only time Rafael gets a little testy and will reach out and tug on his hair. Maybe because it almost always earns him a light slap on the arse in return.

Rafael never asks Nick what his intentions are, unless it's a part of a game their playing and Rafael is all too content to play the bratty submissive. Nick doesn't ask himself too much about his intentions are either. It's all smooth sailing until one morning immediately following a low-intensity romp in bed, Nick catches his breath and opens his eyes to find Rafael gone from beside him, the sheets still warm where he'd been. After a brief panic, he hears a swish of fabric and squints in the half-light to see Rafael, in an white t-shirt and boxer briefs, sitting on the foot of the bed.

No longer panicked apprehensive nonetheless, Nick approaches. He slings his legs over the bed, flush against Rafael's hip, and slides his left arm around Rafael's waist. But when he tilts his head he sees a smile on his lover's face and looks down at his hands, which are carefully guiding the fabric of Nick's tie to form a knot.

"I don't like your half-windsor," says Rafael.

"You distracted me with sex to get to my tie?"

Rafael finishes a Prince Albert knot without even looking and smiles wider. Nick gulps, almost feeling threatened by how taken he is with the attorney.

They'd never said it was serious thing. But from the way his breath quickens and his throat closes up when he sees Rafael smile, here in their bedroom or in court when he wins a case, Nick is delighted that they never said it was casual either.

But how to make these not-so-casual feelings known? Despite being finding himself between Rafael's sheets, even on the nights when Nick is too tired to even properly return a goodnight kiss, Rafael remains elusive. He has a key made for Nick, which makes him hopeful, but it isn't accompanied with any sort of conversation that would imply that they're, well, boyfriends. Nick remembers when he asked Maria to move in with him. There were flowers and professions.

Sometimes when he sees Rafael's eyes go emerald in the sunlight, Nick feels such a swell in his chest that he's almost sure he has something he wants to say…

"Why don't we sleep at my place tonight?" he says in lieu of that something.

Rafael doesn't look away from the mirror, coiffing his hair, "Sure."

"I can pick you up?"

"I'm going to be late. I can take a cab."

He leaves for the DA's office without asking the address. It bothers Nick a little when he texts it to him. A few weeks ago, Nick would suspect that Rafael does this on purpose, never asks, only takes what he's given and that this is a sign that Rafael doesn't see this as a relationship. But he's incapable of seeing selfishness or malice in Rafael just as he's incapable of getting a good night's sleep unless he's wrapped around him.

Rafael stands in Nick's dining room at a half past eleven at night. His hair and clothing are exactly the same as they were when he'd left in the morning.

"You look comfortable," quips Rafael to Nick, who after letting him in, sits woodenly at the kitchen table, "Hard day at the precinct I suppose."

"Always," Nick stands finally and approaches, "But I don't want to talk about that."

He grabs Rafael and kisses him roughly, yanks open his suit jacket and tries to push it and the suspenders off his shoulders at the same time. He feels laughter against his mouth, and uses it as an opportunity to push his tongue past Rafael's teeth. It's like the first time they kissed, at the DA's office during the rainstorm, both of them half-sure about what they were doing and letting the details get in the way. Their teeth knocked and their lips slid about all haphazard.

"I want you," says Nick, again, placeholder words. Rafael tries to kiss him but he dodges, burying his face in the crook of his neck instead. He's perfectly smooth, like he shaves in between cases.

Nick's reaches around, runs his hands all over Rafael's back and then urgently beneath his shirt, wanting to touch as much of him as possible. When the body beneath him stills uncharacteristically, Nick ignores it, bringing his hands to the front of his shirt. Rafael steps back but allows himself to be made topless, he waits for his own unresponsiveness to become unbearable to Nick.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just… we've never done it here before."

"You've never been here before."

There's a quiet in the apartment where he'd been a married man for years. He doesn't want to hear his daughter's laughter, not now, of all times, but there's pictures of her everywhere, more than when she lived here, and he hasn't even taken the ones down that have Maria in them.

Rafael picks this moment to ask his question.

"Nick, what am I to you?"

"Now, Rafi?"

Nick hates the way he makes him flinch at the counter-question. At this point now that he's invited him into his home presumably so that they can sleep together in the same bed he's had since he'd married Maria, there's only one right answer.

And Nick for all of his sore feelings, swollen heart singing songs that his mouth can't whenever Rafael's body is taught and perfect with orgasm, warm smiles when Rafael pulls him closer in his sleep, schoolboy yearnings whenever Rafael stops by the precinct… Nick can't say the things that are most crucial for him to say now.

And there's no lying to Rafael. He sighs and pulls himself away from Nick, sitting down on the white cream sofa a few steps away.

"I know it's hard for you," says Rafael, "… maybe it would be easier if I left."

"You don't have to do that."

"Did you fix things with Maria?"

"I… told her to watch herself."

"But you didn't talk about Zara," he leans back on the sofa, "You don't care?"

"Of course I care," Nick glares.

"She has no right to take your daughter from you. All those months she spent deployed, she wasn't so keen on keeping Zara then."

Nick doesn't know Rafael to be cruel outside of the courtroom, or inside of it, come to think of it. It seems odd that he's choosing to right now. Or is he? Nick peers at Rafael, taut jawline and furrowed brows. But his eyes are shaky and his pupils are big and it gives him away.

"All of a sudden you have something to say about Maria. What are you playing at?"

He waits a beat to respond, then he's up and in Nick's face, "What is it that kept you from going after your baby?"

"Nothing. Nothing in this whole world."

"That's a lie. We both know you wouldn't have come to me if she didn't have something on you. Maria has you trapped."

"You know what," Nick puts a hand on Rafael's chest, square in the middle and applies a little pressure and then drops it again, "You don't know shit about my family."

"You're no expert either," Rafael is about to call him out on his nine-year-old-son but stops himself, not one to be cruel.

"Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Nick," Rafael takes the detective's hand and puts brings it back to his chest, lacing their fingers together, "You can lie to me if you want and I think you'll find that I don't particularly care, if that's the kind of relationship you want. But if you lie to yourself, it'll catch up to you," a bit of pain flashes through his eyes, "I've seen it enough times to know."

Nick says nothing and Rafael's eyes go cold again as he adds, "I'm not going to be a sacrificial lamb here."

"I'm not asking you to be."

"I care about you, Nick, whether or not we continue sleeping together is another matter. But if you end up in a custody battle I need to know where we stand."

"Why? What does Zara have to do with us?"

"You're fighting a war on multiple fronts Nick, your ex-wife, your ex-girlfriend and her son. I'd like to know if I'm going to get caught in the crossfire."

"Well I went to you for help first, and you turned me down."

"You know as well as I do that I can't represent you."

"I wasn't asking for that, I was asking for advice."

"Surely not legal advice."

Nick looks at him incredulously, but Rafael is just getting started.

"Please, Nick. You're a decorated officer, a fine upstanding citizen, your job is to put child molesters in prison. Maria spends random months throughout the year overseas, she might love Zara and she's the mother which gives her an advantage but again," he lowers his voice, "It would seem as though you could have a pretty good chance of at least joint custody, if you took it to family court… but you didn't."

Nick can't meet his eyes anymore but Rafael continues anyways, "Meanwhile it drives you crazy that you can't see your little girl. You keep your apartment as a shrine to your former life, you distract yourself with your job and by sleeping with me. But I see through you, you're incomplete. You're not ready to close the door and that's fair, it would mean letting go of the chance of ever being in Zara's life full time… but you can't move forward, even if maybe, and I do mean maybe on the off chance, you aren't still in love with Maria."

"Who's psychoanalyzing now."

"So are you in love with Maria?"

"What if I am? Are you done with me then?"

Rafael steps closer, "Nick, I enjoy your company and… and I would hope that you enjoy mine enough to maybe consider…"

"I've consi-"

"Don't," Rafael's eyes narrow and he holds up a hand, "I don't want to hear it and I don't want to say anything reciprocative, and I don't want to feel anything reciprocative until I know it's not in vain. I've been burned before."

"All this time you didn't ask, now all of a sudden you wanna start making demands."

"You invited me to your home-"

"I didn't ask you to marry me."

Rafael sighs and looks down. If he was younger, a little less singed around the edges, he'd have fought harder to keep this night from ending.

"I think I should go Nick."

Nick doesn't want him to go. He trails behind Rafael, who hesitates as he puts his hand on the door knob. Nick uses the moments to snake his arms around Rafael's waist and press his face into his hair. He's done this before, with other bodies, one in particular besides Rafael, but he brushes the memories away.

"You don't have to."

"I do," says Rafael, "If you wanted sex, we could've had sex. If you wanted more, we… but you don't know what you want Nick, and I can't live with a decision that you refuse to make. I won't."

Nick has to admire the strength of his will. Rafael's pulse is deep and strong, like the blood in his veins is surging. Even now their bodies are drawn to one another.

Eventually Nick is alone in front of his door with empty hands. He tries to do what Rafael wants, make up his mind, get in his car and drive to Rafael's. He tries to name the thing that he wants, but it has no one singular name.

He goes to bed alone and it haunts him. They haunt him.

Olivia notices, but she doesn't say anything. Nick thinks it might have something to do with her old partner, seems like a lot about Olivia has to do with her old partner. He doesn't sleep well and he makes up for the slowness it causes by talking twice as fast, remarkably faster than Rafael does when they brief him.

He doesn't seem to feel anything but emptiness – a slowly expanding hole in his stomach. He fills his days with his work, ignores Maria's calls, ignores everybody's calls. Ignores that thing that calls him, beckons him.

Amanda notices. And she has a lot to say about it.

He wants to think that it's nothing when she invites him to her place for a beer. He walks into her place, newly furnished and the first thing his eyes zero in on are the pictures of her sister.

"She try to contact you?" Nick asks as Amanda hands him a Heineken.

"Nope," Amanda lifts herself onto the counter top, her thighs expand just a little, Nick notices, "But I don't want to talk about that."

Well, that was fast, he thinks.

He's not an idiot. She's not an idiot. She's been laying it on pretty little thick ever since she'd come to the conclusion that Maria had 'betrayed' him. Nick has never corrected her. It's another reason he has to hate himself.

Amanda cares for him, but how much? He doesn't know, doesn't want to know, doesn't care to know. The ambiguity that pushed Rafael away is the same ambiguity that pushes Nick between Amanda's thighs after he swallows the last of his beer.

They don't even make it to the bed.

The sex is friendly and noncommittal, like a handshake. A half a dozen times she kisses him with her eyes open and comes away from it looking happy and sad all at once. A half a dozen times Nick is made aware that this is a terrible idea, that he's his mess of a personal life even worse. But he kisses her back every time and spends more time catering to her needs as a sort of penance.

Rafael doesn't visit in prison, but comes to Nick when he's out on bail, "I'm almost certain this is a terrible idea."

Nick shakes his head, "I'm sorry. For everything."

"You don't know what you're apologizing for so don't start," Rafael snaps, "That's not why I'm here anyways."

"Why are you here?" Nick asks, knowing that he has absolutely no right to ask.

"No need to jerk your heart off-"

"What?"

Rafael's eyes soften, perhaps against his will, "You know why I'm here. I'm pretending I don't know why I'm here, because my body wouldn't allow me to be here otherwise."

Nick sniffs. Maybe it's a sniffle. Rafael doesn't know or doesn't care. He's across the room the second he hears whatever it was, Nick crumpled in his arms. He holds him, strokes his hair and half-sings, half-whispers in Spanish. He doesn't know how to fix Nick, but he knows how to do this. He's sure an I love you slips out somewhere, he's sure that Nick doesn't deserve it, Nick's sure he doesn't deserve it. But nobody's getting what they deserve here.

When he has some sense of himself again, Nick dries a tear that Rafael's fingers have missed.

"I'm sleepy," says Nick, and he tugs Rafael to the bedroom.

Rafael hesitates, and it shatters Nick, "Please, please don't go."

Unable to bear the abandonment in his eyes, Rafael nods. He presses a kiss to Nick's forehead, and settles onto the bed, arms around his sleeping maybe-friend, maybe-lover, maybe-who-knows-what. In doing so, Rafael betrays himself and his well being, douses himself in gasoline, and waits for Nick to strike a match.

fin

June 2014