AN: Ch. 10 is short and there's no direct Barson going on, so I apologize about that. But it's just my way of building it! I hope y'all enjoy. Sorry about the infrequent updates. I've written a bit more lately, and this story is slowly coming to an end with what I haven't yet published.
"Mamí, we have already talked about this. Can't we have lunch without you telling me to quit my job?" Barba said, sighing out the words.
"Do you have any idea what this has put me through? I lay awake every night thinking about the next time this happens…this is going to happen again," she said.
"We aren't going to talk about this anymore. I like my job and SVU," he said, decidedly not adding that if he were to die, his ghost would not regret putting himself in the line of fire again to do his job.
"You aren't the police, Rafi," she said. "You didn't sign up to get shot at. I didn't let you sign up to get shot at."
"This has never happened to me before. I've been in the court room for years. There was a terrorist attack at a mall last year, does that mean I can't go to malls? Things happen. I feel much better by the way, thanks for asking," he said, subconsciously placing a hand on his formerly injured shoulder.
"I'm sorry. How have you been?" she asked, finally deciding to let it go.
He nearly breathed a sigh of relief, so glad to not talk about quitting his job anymore. "I'm…fine," he said. He was fine. Just heartbroken and frustrated.
"That wasn't very convincing," she said, running a hand through her voluminous hair.
"There's somebody that I care about," he started, speaking timidly. He wasn't sure what else to say, but his mom somehow understood. He was annoyed at himself for seriously talking about this with his mother, of all people. But the reason he found himself doing so was because he had to vent about everything—especially this—and the person he usually vented to was now the subject of his issue.
"Why haven't I met her yet?" Lucia fired.
Barba rubbed his temple. You have, he thought, but did not say. "We aren't…"
Her chin lifted higher and realization crossed her face. "Oh. I understand. And why not?"
"I don't know if I want that," he said. Nothing made him feel a greater connection with his mother than when they had conversations about very specific things, but were so vague that no outsider would even understand what they were talking about. It was like she could read his mind, and he could read hers.
"Those are words I never thought I'd hear you say," Lucia responded, her eyes widening just slightly.
He always knew what he wanted; she was right. But that was the power of Olivia Benson over him. He questioned himself, he doubted himself, felt that he would get rejected, which was a terrifying thought. Of course he would get rejected. She was dating.
"So what?" Lucia said.
Barba was snapped away from his thoughts. Apparently he'd said the "she's dating" part out loud.
"So, she's not interested. Generally when you're interested in someone, you don't date someone else," Barba said, a little more bitter emotion leaking into his voice than he intended.
"Maybe it's because she doesn't know you're interested. I don't understand why you don't just tell her."
"Like I said, I don't even know if I want anything from her. It's not that simple," he said.
"And what reason do you have for not wanting anything with her?" Lucia posed, a frustrated edge to her voice.
"It would be unprofessional," he said.
A tiny grin played out on her lips. "So it's somebody you work with…"
Barba immediately regretted his words. "Uh, loosely," he stuttered, covering his tracks. "Just an acquaintance, but it's enough to look bad."
"Rafael, screw that. Do you not think she's worth it?" she said.
"What—of course I do," he sighed. "But-"
"But nothing. Not pursuing her is saying that she's not worth damaging your rep. If that's the case, you do have no business messing with the poor girl."
Lucia's words were always a mixture of modern slang as well as sayings from her own time. She was truly the "cool mom." He nearly chuckled despite the seriousness of the conversation. 'The poor girl.' His mother would have never referred to her as that if she'd known that it was Olivia.
As if reading his mind, Lucia suddenly changed the subject. "How's Detective Benson? I still haven't been able to properly thank her for everything," she said.
Barba sucked in a breath. "I'm not sure if there is a way to properly thank someone for what she did."
"If you ever change your mind about this 'acquaintance,' that woman better be next on the list. I'll buy the wedding dress myself," she declared.
He physically chuckled this time, unable to ignore the irony and total cluelessness of his mother.
"Sure thing, Mamí."