A/N: I don't typically do this, but I felt that I must respond to the dear Anon reviewer who trashed everything I've ever written based on one single 1,000-word chapter.

To Guest: I actually DO write SVU. I've watched the show since Season 1. I read other people's SVU stories. I spend time researching and taking notes. I try to stay as generally true to the characters and settings as I can, given that this is, in fact, a work of fiction.

I wrote that the squad handed over THEIR numbers to Barba, not the other way around. Does he have each of their cell phone numbers? Maybe. But I don't know. Typically the chain of communication is through Olivia, which is why I thought that perhaps he wouldn't have their individual numbers. Either way, it's such a minor detail—who cares?

To your next point, about consent. If your issue is that I didn't appropriately warn for dubious consent and sex under the influence of drugs—then I concede that you're right. I have updated both the summary of the story as well as added an author's note at the beginning of Chapter 1. However, this is merely the intro chapter. If you continue reading—which I guess you will not, since I have so offended you—you will find that I actually have Olivia and Barba grapple with this very issue for at least the next TWO chapters. I have done my best to come up with a plausible way for this story to proceed; but, again, fiction. If it isn't your cup of tea, then I do apologize that you stumbled across it. But all you had to do was exit.

And, lastly, your poorly-written and executed assertion that fanfiction is not for me: I humbly suggest that perhaps using the English language to insult people is not for you.


Give her as many orgasms as you can manage. The words rang in Rafael's ears as he numbly wound his way up to the floor where they were keeping Olivia. As many orgasms...

Good god. He rarely even gave her so much as a handshake, and now they wanted him to—? His brain shied away from the prospect.

Not, it should be noted, because he didn't think of her in that way—but because he wasn't allowed to think of her that way. They were colleagues. Counterparts. Co-conspirators, sometimes. Friends, even, perhaps. But lovers? Never.

Shaking his head, he shoved the door into the waiting area with more force than was necessary. The nurse behind the desk startled as she looked up.

"I'm here for Olivia Benson," he said.

"It's about damn time you got here, Baaaaarba," a voice behind him said. Spinning, he saw Olivia waving away a doctor's hand as she stood unsteadily from her chair. She made for the door. "Let's go, I never want to come here again," she announced. "The service is terrible."

"Ms. Benson, please wait," the doctor ordered. He glanced at Rafael. "Are you her designated caregiver?"

"Yes, I am." Barba began to walk towards them, but the doctor gestured to another doorway off the waiting area.

"We need to speak for a moment. Rachel, can you—?" He pointed at Olivia. The nurse at the desk nodded and jumped up to come over and steer Olivia back into her chair.

"I hope you boys have fun talking about me behind my back," Olivia called as the doctor ushered Rafael into the small consultation room. He shut the door firmly.

"We'll get right to it. As you can probably tell, she's still somewhat disoriented."

"Combative, more like," Rafael muttered under his breath.

The doctor quirked an eyebrow in agreement. "That should wear off fairly quickly. However, I'm sorry to say she was dosed with Bremelanotide Peptide, more commonly known as PT-141. The effects—"

"Yes, I'm aware. Olivia and I work together; I'm familiar with the drug."

The doctor seemed relieved. He folded his hands and leaned forward on his elbows. "I won't lie to you, it's going to be a terrible experience for her. The next ten to fourteen hours are liable to be hell on earth."

"I understand."

"She was offered a sedative but declined. There's really nothing to be done except wait it out. It's best if you can keep her hydrated. Medically, she's healthy as can be—just call if she starts to vomit or attempts to harm herself."

"Harm?!"

The doctor's tension returned. "We often find that individuals who have been given the drug against their will have the urge to hurt themselves, to escape the effects. Ms. Benson seems to be very mentally strong, but I do want you to be forewarned."

"Fantastic," Rafael replied drily. "Anything else I need to know?"

The doctor pushed a small pile of papers towards him. "This is all the medical-ese for the drugs in her system. I'll just give you a quick rundown and then you can take her home..."


The 'quick rundown' ended up lasting what felt like forever, but in reality had only been about four of the most awkward minutes of Rafael's life. And based on the way Olivia was acting, it had lasted closer to four days.

"So, did the good doctor tell you all about my condition?" Olivia drawled as she slouched into the back seat of the cab with him and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. Rafael's own eyes were drawn to the slash in her slacks, which showcased the large white bandage on her thigh.

"What, you mean the one where you're a constant pain in my ass? It seems more like my condition. Or perhaps you were referring to your condition of being stubborn to a fault?" He hoped his tone struck the right balance of joke and put-upon suffering. When he saw her lips quirk, he knew he'd nailed it.

Then she went and ruined it.

"No, I mean the one where I'll be desperately seeking sexual satisfaction for roughly the next—oh, fifteen hours." She heaved a sigh and Rafael felt his heart thump at her misery.

"They told me it was more likely ten to fourteen."

She barked out a laugh that ended on what sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I should have known that an attorney would pay attention to the details."

"That is why you wanted me here, isn't it?" He strove to keep his tone light. But deep down, he wanted to know—why had she picked him in her contingency plans? Why not Carisi, or Amanda? Or, hell, a boyfriend? Someone who knew her outside of work?

The thought that she'd picked him because she was otherwise alone tore at his heart.

"I wanted you here so that when I made plans to murder whoever did this to me, you would be bound by rules of client-attorney confidentiality."

"Good to know the drugs haven't affected your compassionate side."

"Shut up." She whacked him on the arm, but it was half-hearted.

They rode in silence for a while until she recognized her neighborhood and straightened. "I don't want to go home. Barba, let me ride this out at your place. Please?"

She sounded frantic, and anyway, Rafael had no objections. "Of course." He told their cabbie his address. The man nodded but otherwise made no comment. Rafael was sure their driver hadn't overheard any conversation quite like theirs before.

Olivia relaxed back into her seat. "I just—I don't want to go there right now."

"You don't have to justify anything," Rafael assured her.

Their cab driver pulled to a stop in front of Rafael's building, and Olivia rolled out of the car and stood rigidly on the sidewalk. Rafael held out money for payment and slid over in the seat to follow her.

"Good luck, man," their cabbie muttered. Rafael nodded solemnly before exiting the vehicle.

As he held the door for Olivia, and then once they entered the elevator, he noticed that she was taking pains to stay as far from him as physically possible. He tried not to feel dejected—after all, she was in an untenable situation—but it pricked his pride nonetheless.

He let them into his apartment and automatically reached to take her jacket, but Olivia flinched away. She didn't look at him, merely mumbled 'sorry', and Rafael accepted that they were treading in uncharted waters. Deciding not to crowd her, he informed her that he needed to call Carmen and that she was welcome to explore.

He entered his kitchen and heaved a sigh. He was so far out of his depth here—he didn't know what she needed or how he was going to be able to help her get through this.

As many orgasms as you can manage.

"Shut up!" he muttered to the Dodds inside his head.

"What?" Olivia called from the living room.

"Sorry—just, uh, stubbed my toe," he replied, shaking his head. This was inane. He and Olivia were close; surely they could manage...whatever this was.

He dialed his office and felt a wash of relief when Carmen answered in her usual crisp manner. "How can I help you, Mr. Barba?"

"I'm not going to be back in the office today, Carmen. Tomorrow either. Please reschedule my appointments and route all my calls to voicemail—yes, that's right, no contact..."