AN: I also understand that some of you have been waiting for a new chapter and still haven't gotten one, so here's chapter 9 for those that have been waiting since like late December! Sorry about all the glitches, and I hope you enjoy this!
Returning to work had been far less pleasant than whatever fantasy Barba had worked up in his mind. Returning to his loft had been pretty relieving though. Staying with Olivia hadn't been difficult; he enjoyed time with her far more than he should. But they were far from comfortable around each other—they weren't a married couple. He was still very much consumed with sexual tension and attraction, and being around her all the time while unable to act on it was exhausting. He also felt a constant need to be tough, to be impressive, and he really felt like shit all the time. He got less sleep than he let on, and his shoulder pain had taken longer to lessen than he'd pretended it did. Finally getting back to living alone and being able to moan and groan with the knowledge that nobody would hear was relieving.
Work, however, was stressful. SVU wasn't the only source of cases for him. He worked for the state, and now more than ever, he was reminded of that. The moment he returned, the floodgates were released on him and case after case was processed and tried in court. His escalating insomnia only worsened matters, and he actually showed up one morning to work slightly intoxicated and got himself taken out of the good graces of a few very important people. He found himself once again contemplating quitting his job, but he knew that he loved being an ADA. While it was stressful as hell—probably more stressful than most other jobs in the world, aside from that of the SVU detectives—it was incredibly satisfying when he won. Victories built him up and helped him to run on an adrenaline which caused his case-closing abilities to skyrocket. The times when he hit lows were typically when he lost one case after another, and that adrenaline was not replenished, and he just felt drained and frankly, like a failure. Losing cases and therefore losing his confidence caused the loss of more cases, leaving him in a cyclical sort of hell. His wavering emotions were something he definitely noticed; he was either confident and cocky or frustrated and angry.
It had been over a month since he'd worked a case with SVU, and as immoral as it was, he was just waiting for a sex crime. He hadn't seen his favorite group of people in awhile, nor had he seen his favorite person, singular, in awhile. Olivia had checked on him a few times when he first returned to work, but he'd assured her that he was doing fine, and gradually those check ups had seized.
So when Carisi called Barba, he answered within a split second, his nervous eagerness already welling up in his chest. He wasn't necessarily excited, per se; Barba didn't get excited about much. But he was looking forward to it. This was the closest anyone would see him come to excited. He dwelled on this fact, realizing that he really did have some serious attraction issues with the leading SVU detective if the most excited he could get was over a new sex crime. When Carisi then proceeded not to inform him that there was a new case, but rather that they were going out for drinks and would like him to join, his excitement intensified. It was a hell of a God-send that he would get to see her and it wasn't even at the expense of someone else's victimization.
Crushed couldn't even begin to describe what he felt when he arrived at the bar and she wasn't there. He felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he took a seat next to Carisi, Rollins, and Fin. He hadn't meant for it to, but his disappointment must have registered on his face.
"You don't look excited to see us, Counselor," Rollins said, her eyebrows raised a bit.
He forced a smile. "Just a little tired. But glad to be here," he lied. "I needed a break."
They all stared at him, and they knew what would come out of his mouth before he spoke.
"Where's Liv?" he asked.
"A date," Fin said.
"She thinks she has a secret. Told us she was going home to Noah," Carisi said.
"She never seems to grasp that she works with detectives. There are no secrets," Rollins added.
Barba faked a congested cough to make sure there was something other than total fury and sadness to attribute the redness now surrounding his eyes to. He wasn't crying, but he felt his eyes start to burn and a lump form in his throat. He swallowed it, took a sip of water, and feigned a look of indifference. But he knew he was trying too hard. Someone was going to know that his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and put into a blender.
"And what about you guys? Forever alone?" he questioned, attempting once again to play off his dejected mood.
"That just about sums it up," Fin dismissed simply.
Rollins gave a simple look which said, "complicated," and Carisi got a stupid ass smirk on his face that Barba decided against asking about.
After another half hour or so of meaningless conversation, small talk which Barba couldn't focus on and didn't care about, Fin and Carisi both left, leaving only he and Rollins sitting at the table.
"Liv, huh?" she said suddenly.
He stared at her, raising a brow. "What about her?"
Rollins chuckled, looking down with a smile spread across her face. "Come on, Barba. I'm a detective. I know you're pining for her."
Somehow, it was infinitely more terrifying to face his undeniable attraction to the lieutenant out loud. Having someone who worked with her and spent countless hours around both of them approach him and boldly question him about his feelings didn't sit well with him at all; in fact, he felt a little nauseous, partially from the alcohol, as a flush ran through his body.
"For Benson? Please," he responded. It had sounded more convincing in his head. When it tumbled out of his mouth, it was way too fast and way too harsh, almost as if he were overcompensating.
Rollins shook her head, grinning widely now. "Oh, my God. It's worse than I thought." She practically laughed.
Barba almost got up and left, but at this point, it was pointless. She had seen right through him and he knew it.
"Look, it's not a pressing matter. Just…leave it alone," he said. That was his way of spewing the teenage-like "please don't tell her I like her" plea in a more adult and professional manner.
Pushing a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, Rollins cocked her head a little and looked at him.
"Barba, you're never afraid to say exactly what you want and exactly what you mean. Why is this any different?" she interrogated.
"I'm not saying that I do…but if, hypothetically, I had any sort of…anything…for Benson, that doesn't mean I would want anything to come of it. Let sleeping dogs lie, Detective. Nothing good can come out of it," he dismissed, standing up, grabbing his coat, and heading out of the bar. He paid his tab on his way out and immediately sucked in a deep breath once outside in the freezing New York December weather. Holding back his feelings just became a whole lot harder.
