fic; because if this is us – chapter 01
relationship/pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson/ed tucker
note: somewhat a continuation from where season 17 finale left off.
Monday morning. Barba often hates Monday mornings because he knows there will be a lot to deal with – inevitably a lot of things usually happen over the weekend – and more often than not, some of his cases will end up complicate themselves, and it will be a lot of work just to try and set things into order for everything else to progress.
But he especially abhors Monday mornings now, and this is because he has to report to security detail, about his work, about his cases, about his schedule, about what he is going to eat, where is he going to eat, about where he is going to buy his coffee, basically about every single movement he is planning to make.
It irritates the hell out of him, and yet, he knows that is was a necessity.
The threats have letting up since the arrest of that cheap bastard that was paid to intimidate him, but Barba still finds himself tensing up whenever his phone rings, and anticipating a hang up whenever an unknown number or simply, "unknown", flashes across the screen.
This is kind of uncharted territory for him. Growing up in el barrio, he had his fair share of scrapes and escapades, but given that he always had Eddie, and Alex to some degree, he never really felt that his life was ever threatened in any way. Furthermore, they were mere kids, shooting off their mouths, and being kids, even in el barrio, you never seem to think that danger is real.
It's different now, he supposes, and he is aware that there is a very real target on his back, and he hates how this is making him feel apprehensive, and jumpy, and unable to be who he is supposed to be.
Rafael Barba used to be confident, arrogant and scared of nothing.
Barba doesn't want to forget how to be him.
Approaching his office, he gives himself a slight mental shake to rid himself of his reverie, and acknowledges Carmen with a brief nod. She stands up, and motions towards his office.
"Detective Carisi and Detective Rollins are here to see you, Mr. Barba."
He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and inwardly rolls his eyes. "Thanks, Carmen," he says, and pushes his door open to reveal Carisi and Rollins standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room, with the latter holding a document file in her hands.
"Carisi, Rollins. Always not a good thing to see you first thing on a Monday morning. What do you need from me?" He asks briskly, unbuttoning his coat and flinging it over his armchair.
"Counselor, we just wanna make sure you're okay," Carisi says, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Of course I'm all right," he answers, albeit tersely. "Surely this is not all you came to see me for."
"No, we need to talk to you about the Crawford case, but…" Amanda hesitates.
"Out with it, Rollins," he says impatiently, heading towards the side of his office and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Look, Barba, we are kinda worried," she says directly.
He takes a long sip of his coffee, sitting down and propping up his legs on his desk. "Well, talk me through it, then. What's wrong with the case?"
"Not the case. You."
He lets out a bark of laughter. "Excuse me, but what?"
Carisi steps in, brows knitting together in concern. "We heard that the DA asked you to go on leave but you wouldn't."
"That's because I couldn't," he snaps. "I am the ADA for your unit, surely you know what kind of workload I have."
"And you wouldn't talk to anyone about…"
Barba stands up, placing his palms on his desk and looking at Carisi squarely in the eye. Part of him – a very small part of him – is grudgingly touched about the concern the two detectives are showing, but he does not have time for this.
He doesn't want to waste any time contemplating, thinking or wondering – he already did more than his fair share of that earlier in the morning. He can't focus on this, because then he just can't.
"Detectives. I suggest that you do not waste my time, because I don't have a lot of time to be wasted. Now, what is it about the case that you need to tell me?"
Carisi and Rollins look at each other for a brief moment, and then with a somewhat resigned air, Rollins turns to him, all business, flipping open the folder in her hands, and handing Barba copies of witness statements.
"We were looking through the three witness statements, and I think there's a slightly discrepancy here in the time line. Liv thinks that…"
"Liv?" He says, scanning the statements. "You're sending her case notes while she's on holiday in Paris?"
"No, she's back to work, as of this morning," Carisi says. "Landed in New York yesterday night and back in the precinct today. That's Lieu for you."
Barba pauses in his reading. He doesn't even know that Liv is back. Actually, he doesn't even know when she took off for her holiday with Tucker and Noah. She sent him a text two weeks ago saying that she would be away, but didn't offer more information beyond that, and he didn't ask.
She needed to go away, he knew, just to leave New York and take her mind off Dodds' death, to rejuvenate herself and to regroup, and he sincerely hopes she had managed to do so.
He hates this, this strange sense of formality that has settled between them as of late, but he doesn't really know what to do about it. With everything that went on, and is still going on, he doesn't even know where to start.
"I see," he says off-handedly, pretending that he doesn't see Carisi and Rollins exchanging a look. "Well, walk me through the discrepancies, Rollins," he continues, effectively cutting off any more discussion of Liv.
Liv looks up as Amanda raps sharply on her office door. "Barba's ready to proceed," she announces.
"Okay, that's good. Get Carisi and Fin to bring Crawford in, and see what they can get out of him. As for the girlfriend…Amanda, talk to her again and try to corroborate her statement with the other witnesses."
Amanda nods, and turns to go. On an impulse, Liv calls out to her. "Amanda…how's Barba doing?"
She looks back, pursing her lips. "All right, I supposed. He seems to be holding up well…but he's not talking about it. Carisi and I speak to his security detail regularly, and everything is as it is, no more threats have been made."
"On that note…" Amanda looks at her friend and her boss, hesitating, and decides to plunge on. "How are you doing, Liv?"
Her stomach drops a little at the question. Frankly, she doesn't quite know how to answer it. Going to Paris had been wonderful – she needed to get away after all – and it was glorious spending time with Noah, taking him to Disneyland and enjoying pastries and croissants. Ed was sweet and attentive and caring.
But thoughts of Dodds were never far away.
It's not something that could be forgotten with a holiday, and she knows it. It's a process. And it's a process for the whole squad, not just her. They're all still feeling the loss.
"Getting better," she manages a small smile at Amanda.
"I'm sure your therapist has said all that needs to be said so I'm not gonna repeat all of that, and Liv, you know the squad has your back. We're here for you if you need to talk about anything."
Liv does know that, and she's grateful. "Thanks, Amanda. And…I just want to say, I'm sorry if it seems like I haven't been there for all of you…"
Amanda waves her hand. "We're fine. We're okay, we're talking through things." She knows Liv has a lot on her, and she isn't about to add anything else. Besides, it's the truth – they're coping with it well enough, given the circumstances.
"But someone does need to talk to Barba, though," Amanda says, almost to herself, as she turns to leave the office.
Barba glances at his watch. It's almost eight o'clock, and he has not had his dinner. Logically, he really should be packing up to leave, pick up some food, and call it a night. He has court to attend tomorrow, and a grand jury inquiry, and a meeting with the DA.
He stands up, reaching for his coffee cup, and then he changes his mind. Opening his drawer, he takes out a scotch glass instead, and retrieves his bottle of scotch on the shelf, pouring himself a glass.
Sipping it, he turns his attention back to the files on his table. Yes, he should be leaving, but he's starting to have that jittery feeling that he hates, and the only way he can get rid of it is to throw himself into work.
Too bad for his security detail; they'll just have to tough it out until he's ready to leave the office.
His phone rings suddenly, the sound piercing and sharp in the quiet atmosphere, and he jumps, staring at it as it flashes and vibrates and rings.
It's fucking ridiculous how a ringing phone sends him into borderline panic attacks nowadays.
He picks up his phone, looking at the screen, and feels a small jolt of surprise. He swipes his phone and answers it.
"Liv."
"Barba, hi. Where are you?"
"I'm still at the office."
"Well, stay there. I'm just a couple of minutes away. I'll see you later." She hangs up without waiting for his reply, and he stares at his phone. He sighs, tossing it aside, and turns his attention back to the case files.
The rap on his office door sounds a mere five minutes later, and he looks up to see Liv entering, holding a brown paper bag in one hand.
"Hey," she says, slightly awkward, and it's just so strange, for the both of them. She's never awkward around him, not in the past.
"Liv," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Is there something about the Crawford case you need to talk to me about? It could wait until tomorrow, you know."
"No, it's not the case, it's…" She hesitates. "Well, I've been away, and I just want to check to see if you're okay."
He leans back in his chair, tilting his head to one side. "I certainly appreciate the concern of the SVU squad," he says, "but I do have security detail on me, so I'm fairly sure that I'm quite safe."
She walks into the office, and grabs the chair across from him, sitting down. "I bought you food," she says, shifting away from the subject of surveillance and security detail, placing the paper bag on his table in front of him. "I'm guessing that you haven't eaten if you're still here at this time of the night."
He looks at the paper bag, and he remembers all those times they worked throughout the night on cases. Pizza boxes in her office, take out cartons in his office, a pot of pasta at her apartment, takeaway at his apartment, arguing over glasses of wine and scotch until they reached a consensus.
They haven't done that in a very long time. Not since he found out about her involvement with Tucker.
"Thanks," he says slowly, opening the bag to reveal one of his favourite staples, fried noodles from a Chinese restaurant near the precinct.
She smiles briefly, lacing her fingers together, seemingly thinking about what to say. "Barba," she begins carefully. "How's…everything?"
He knows exactly what she's referring to, and he doesn't want to answer her, because he doesn't want to talk about it. "Fine," he says brusquely, taking a drink out of his scotch glass.
Liv lets out her breath in a small sigh. "Barba, can't we talk the way we used to?" She asks bluntly.
He looks at her, surprised. He doesn't expect this, not at all.
"We haven't been talking for a while now, Liv – not since…" he hesitates. "Well, you know. I don't need to say it."
She leans forward, her eyes on his. "Can we talk now? Hash it out?"
Barba puts down his scotch glass carefully, his mind a jumble. He's not sure he wants to talk now – not when everything is still such a mess. Him, her, and all that has happened in the past few months, he really doesn't think they could talk it out in one night.
There's too much of something in everything.
"Okay," he says slowly. "This could take all night, you know."
"I miss being able to talk to you," she says honestly. "And I don't want it to be like this between us, with you feeling like you can't talk to me about the threats. Things went wrong between us because I wasn't honest with you. And I don't hope for you to go down the same road I did."
Something flickers across his eyes as he looks at her. "It's not that I don't want to be honest, or that I can't talk to you about…" he exhales noisily. "Look, Liv. It's been hell of a time for you the last few weeks. I don't see the need for me to burden you with my problems. With Dodds…"
She flinches, and he hesitates, before continuing, his voice gentle. "With Dodds' passing, I know you took it hard. And I know you're still trying to cope; we all are."
She takes a deep shaky breath, suddenly feeling like she wants to spill everything to him – but it's not the right moment, not yet.
If they are what they used to be, she would have.
"Liv, if you're worried about…we're okay, okay? I'm okay." He'll say what she wants to hear, even if he doesn't quite believe in it.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about Ed."
He laughs, waving his hand. "I'm over that, I really am. If anything, we're even on that," he says, referring to his disclosure to 1PP. He takes out another scotch glass, and pours a glass, sliding it across the table to her.
"We're not going to sort this out in one night, Liv – but let's just, I don't know, call a truce, have a drink."
It's his way of telling her that they're fine. There are still things to work through, but they will be fine.
She clinks her scotch glass against his and takes a sip. Perhaps it's still some ways before they are back to where they used to be, but this is a step towards the right direction.
She wasn't there for him, but she will be now.
And she kind of needs him to be there for her, too.
to be continued
Literally the first time I am attempting something long…ish, and in chapters. I'm trying to hash out a believable relationship continuum, so let's see how I will manage to work this out.
I think everyone can sort of guess where this is going, I mean, my endgame it should be obvious from my other fics.