The door flung open and Olivia and Rafael stood face-to-face, drinking in the presence of the other in a tense, expectant silence.
He stared at the corridor behind her to check if she'd really come alone, half-expecting Amanda Rollins to appear from around the corner. But all he saw were the two armed officers standing guard outside his door, and the solitary figure of Olivia Benson, clad in her raincoat, holding what looked like a heavy paper bag, and dripping water all over the ground.
It really was her.
This was exactly the kind of situation they both agreed was dangerous, but she'd come to see him anyway.
His heart thumped loudly in his chest and a voice in his head screamed at him to turn her away now - to say no to this before they both did something they'd regret; before they got too deep in to turn back again.
We can't be doing this.
"Can I come in, please?" she asked again, this time more softly and cautiously.
She looked at him imploringly - whether it was just because of her drenched state or she wanted more than just shelter from the rain, he didn't know, but something about the way she was standing before him, so vulnerable and unguarded, made it impossible for him, against every of his instincts, to turn her away.
Fuck it.
Dangerous or not, he wasn't about to leave her standing in the hallway without at least giving her a chance to dry off. He silently nodded his approval, ushered her in, and handed her a clean towel from the bathroom while she shed her dripping wet raincoat. She awkwardly stood by the edge of the bed and dried herself off, while he took a seat on the solitary chair by the desk. He didn't know how long she was planning on staying, and wasn't quite sure how to ask either.
Lightning and thunder crashed outside, startling both of them. Pathetic fallacy - the attribution of human feelings and responses to inanimate things or animals, especially in art and literature, he recited to himself, mind wandering briefly to his freshman year English seminars. Just the day for it to pour. Rain usually was little more than a nuisance for him (longer waits for an Uber, his usual coffee stand closed earlier, he hated getting his suits wet), but with the recent air of loss and grief, the weather made the air feel especially mournful. They stewed in their melancholy, averting direct eye contact, until Olivia realised she still was clutching the paper bag she'd brought with her.
"I brought a few things," she finally said, breaking the silence, and stood up to place the damp bag on the table, next to the stacks of case files that he clearly hadn't touched at all. Rafael watched intently as she unpacked its contents: a one-pound bag of his favourite pretzels from Trader Joe's. A small box of the mints he always kept in his office and ate compulsively before he went to court. A foil packet that smelled like an everything bagel with bacon, egg and cheese, like he ordered almost every morning.
Scotch.
He'd stopped drinking scotch regularly after their encounter that night over a month ago, but he decided not to tell her that - she'd probably splurged on a brand new bottle, and his gratefulness for the gesture outweighed his embarrassment. He imagined her running from store to store looking for a bottle, and winced thinking of her getting drenched in the rain just for his sake. How did he deserve a person like her? Yet the recent awkwardness made him hesitate expressing that to her so openly.
Olivia turned to him concernedly, still wondering if she'd overstepped with the food and scotch, but relief washed over her when she saw him smile and heard his voice for the first time since she'd stepped through the door. "Thank you," he finally said, softly and sincerely.
With the tension in the room eased slightly, she took a seat on the edge of the king-sized bed and attempted to make herself comfortable, although neither of them missed her conscious attempt to sit a few feet away from him. "Are you hungry?" She gestured at the wrapped packet on the desk. "Bacon, egg, cheese on an everything bagel."
It smelled delicious, but the thought of putting anything into his stomach sent a wave of nausea up his oesophagus, especially when the familiar aroma only made him think of 60 Centre Street - which he now associated with the menacing face of Felipe Heredio. Being kicked out of his condo at 2am also had a way of making him forget about his hunger. "Thank you, Liv, but I'm not hungry."
She frowned hearing that. "You sure? Have you had anything to eat today?"
"No... but I'm really not in the mood to eat now. Maybe later."
It was understandable. She quickly dropped the subject and put the bagel back on the desk. "How's this room treating you?" She looked around and inspected his temporary home more closely - it wasn't the Ritz, but for a Midtown hotel room, it was surprisingly clean and comfortable. The bed was unmade and he'd haphazardly thrown his open suitcase on the floor by the television; from the looks of it, he hadn't had much time to pack. For the first time since she'd arrived, she realised that he still was clad in his pyjamas - Harvard T-shirt, sweatpants - and that they looked eerily similar to the ones he'd pulled on the morning she woke up in his bed.
Actually, they looked like the exact same set from that day, and between the lure of the bed she was sitting on and residual awkwardness between them, her stomach churned nervously.
"It's alright for now, but let's see how long I can last in here before I lose my mind..." He attempted a casual laugh, but the gravity of the situation that had brought him to his very hotel room quickly overwhelmed him. "... however long I have to be here."
Olivia wished she had an answer to that - judging from the size of the suitcase he'd packed and stacks of case files on the desk, he clearly was expecting to be in this room indefinitely. "The Gang Unit is on it. They're trying to get to the bottom of all this... but at least we have Heredio in custody. I'll call their captain later and ask them to rush this."
"Thank you," he replied, although she knew that it wasn't much comfort. Gang-related investigations often could drag on for weeks or even months, and although all they really needed to do was make sure that the threats against Rafael directly came to an end, being displaced from his home and office without much of a timeline wasn't ideal.
"We'll try to get you back to your apartment as soon as possible. Or at the very least, back to your office. I'll talk to the guys at Threat Assessment too, try to work something out."
Rafael struggled to find words that weren't yet another "thank you". He was so grateful for Olivia and to hear the steely, detective-mode determination in her voice as she talked about addressing the threats, but the feeling of being stuck in this hotel room with nothing else to do but wait around for progress and thank her grated on him. She technically wasn't even in charge of handling this - Amanda and Sonny were the ones on the case. Yet here she was, carving out time from her work day to not only pay him a visit uptown, but also stop by the grocery and alcohol stores on the way. He detested his own helplessness; maybe even felt annoyed at the SVU lieutenant, even though he knew very well that it was selfish of him to feel that. She had so many more things to worry about, and still she was here, with him, making sure that he was fine.
She frowned when he remained silent, and noticed his silenced cell phone charging on the nightstand. "I was so worried when you didn't respond to my text this morning."
He looked at her quizzically - what text was she talking about? Then he remembered: he'd fallen asleep and hadn't checked his phone all morning. "I'm sorry, Liv. I was asleep," he said apologetically, although his growing annoyance with the situation at hand (or her - he wasn't sure) threatened to bubble over the more he stared at her concerned expression. "I took a nap after Fin and Carisi checked on me," he clarified, this time more emphatically.
Olivia's eyes moved to the messy, crumpled sheets; he could sense her trying to determine whether or not he was being truthful, and that brief, but telling, look, caused something in him to snap. "Fin and Carisi were here all night and there are officers right outside the door. Nothing was going to happen in the last few hours, Liv. You really didn't have to come all the way here."
"I still have very good reason to be worried, Rafael. Someone tried to break into your apartment building, and they were armed," she retorted, raising her voice slightly. "They know where you live!"
Doesn't she realise that this is literally all that's been on my mind since last night? "But they didn't manage to get into the building, did they? And no one got hurt. That's all that matters. This situation sucks, but I'm still alive. And safe. I know you're just doing your job, but you don't have to get worked up over me like that," he replied, further annoyance and frustration seeping into his tone.
"This isn't just me doing my job, Rafael. I can't even be concerned for my friend now?"
He softened instantly hearing that - she still considered him her friend, even after all that'd happened between them, and that admission of a more personal concern for him chipped away at his annoyance. "It's just... you have a lot on your plate, Liv," he pointed out.
"That doesn't mean I can't show concern for you too."
"I know, Liv, but I just don't want to add to your problems."
"You're not a "problem", Rafael. What else am I supposed to do, anyway?" she retaliated. "Not care? Make you wait in here alone until we sort this out? I'm going crazy, Rafael. I want to care about you. I see Dodds lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood whenever I close my eyes. I keep hearing Chief Dodds and Alice crying. I just want to not think about it, even for a few minutes..." her voice trailed off.
Rafael instantly was transported back to the hospital waiting room; the blood stains on Chief Dodds's shirt, the way he crumpled to the floor in front of the squad when Mike's mother arrived. Olivia's eyes welled up with tears, and he knew she was thinking about the exact same things he was, but she quickly caught herself and wiped her eyes. "But I didn't come here to talk about all that. I just want - no, need - to make sure you're okay too."
Changing the subject. Rafael never liked the sound of that. He sensed the wealth of emotion she was hiding - the tension in her body; the way she nervously tapped her foot against the carpet and stared at her hands. Olivia was good at keeping a lid on her emotions, but he could read her like no one else could, and all he wanted was for her to be honest with him. He didn't care about the ongoing tension between them anymore - this wasn't the time for them to tip-toe around each other.
He shifted his chair closer to her and leaned in assuringly. "Liv, you know you can talk to me about anything. You shouldn't have to go through this alone."
"Oh, so you're Dr. Lindstrom now?" she fired back without thinking. She winced hearing herself, but the concerned expression on Rafael's face reminded her a little too much of sitting in front of her therapist.
"I'm not saying I am..." he started, but she quickly interrupted him, a ripple of irritation coursing through her.
"Don't look at me like that, Rafael," she snapped. Like a victim. A damsel in distress. "I don't want your pity."
"You know me better than that, Liv. I never see you that way." Hurt flashed through his eyes, and she instantly regretted snapping at him. She did know him better than that. He wasn't one to partake in any Olivia Benson pity parties, and that was one of the most important reasons they'd become such good. friends in the first place. He didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her frustration.
"Plus..." he added knowingly, after a long pause, "... I know you came all the way here for a reason."
Something in her must have shifted, because he watched the steeliness and hostility in her eyes turn to vulnerability in an instant. "I'm sorry, Rafael. This has been... really, really hard," she confessed, voice trembling with each word. He got up from the chair and took a seat next to her on the bed, and their increased physical closeness only made her crumble even more.
He was right. All morning she'd convinced herself that she wanted to make the trip to see him in order to check on him, but even if she didn't admit it to herself, she wanted - needed - his comfort just as much as he did. Rafael Barba always had a way of making her honest in ways that Brian Cassidy or even Ed Tucker didn't - how did he do it? Even after the awkward month they'd just had, his green eyes had a way of stirring emotion in her; of piercing her soul and making her feel seen.
It was precisely that honesty that had brought them over the edge and set the awkwardness in motion, but something about this conversation - and his gentle, comforting presence - made it feel so right.
Rafael inched closer to her, still careful not to touch her, but close enough that she almost felt the warmth radiating from his skin. Oh, how badly she wanted him to lean in and embrace her; to cry on his shoulder and let her pent-up emotions from the last few days spill out. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out - her tongue felt like lead, and emotion overwhelmed her mind to the point that she couldn't think of where to begin. The gunshot, the funeral, the bar... all of it blurred into one.
"Liv..." he started, but before he could finish his sentence, she suddenly burst into tears, startling him.
"I killed Mike Dodds, Rafael," she choked. "He wouldn't be dead if not for me. I shouldn't have left him alone in the house..."
"Liv, Liv, listen to me." Olivia sounded so pained that all thoughts of maintaining a physical boundary exited his head immediately. He put his hands on her shoulders, looked directly into her eyes, and spoke to her calmly and steadily. "You didn't kill Mike Dodds. You couldn't have known about the other gun; about Munson holding his wife and Dodds hostage," he asserted to no avail.
"I watched Dodds get Mike's blood all over his shirt. I watched Mike's condition deteriorate right before my eyes. I was right there in the room with Alice and Dodds when the monitor flatlined. How can I not blame myself? How do I forget the sound of him crying when he told me that they were keeping the machines on only for Mike's organs? He's dead because of me, Rafael," she repeated, voice shaking with remorse and despair.
He kept one hand firmly on her shoulder and gently cupped her face with the other. "You couldn't have seen this coming. This is all on Gary Munson. He shot Mike Dodds, and you didn't have control over that. You made a decision based on the information you had at the time."
Rafael was right, but that didn't do much to assuage her guilt. "I saw the way Chief Dodds looked at me. He's never going to forgive me for this," she said sadly.
"Dodds needs time and space to get over this, Liv. He's hurting in his own way - he needs to hurt in his own way. And you can't control that either. This isn't on you, and even if Dodds says that, it's still not your fault. You deserve to take care of yourself."
Olivia buried her head in Rafael's shoulder and he felt her tears seep through the thin material of his T-shirt. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and let her sink into him, inhaling the scent of her perfume. For a split-second his heart raced realising that this was the most physical contact they'd had since that earth-shattering night, but he quickly caught himself - this wasn't the time or place to think of that. Her muffled sobs quickly jolted him back to reality, and he gently rubbed her back until he felt her calm down.
She wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her blouse, realising quickly that Rafael still had his arms around her, but she didn't free herself from his embrace. Something about his presence felt profoundly calming - all the evenings they'd spent working on cases together had made her realise a long time ago that she enjoyed his company, but in one of the saddest weeks of her life, the warmth of his embrace was especially reassuring and soothing.
"The funeral... it was hard," she said quietly.
"I know, Liv." The looks they'd exchanged in the hospital waiting room and then at the bar after the service were burned into his memory - the way her eyes brimmed with a soul-shattering combination of tears and unspoken words; how her shoulders slumped when she thought no one was looking. He rubbed her back soothingly to quell her pained sobs. "I know," he repeated.
"Mike's last day at SVU and this happens... He was so young, Rafael. I should have stayed in the house." She stared at the floor and suppressed another sob. "I should have stayed in the house…"
"Liv, look at me." He lowered his voice to a soothing whisper and she turned to him with damp, imploring eyes. "You kept both of the kids out of harm's way. You're the reason Lisa Munson still has a family. And if you'd been in that house... what about Noah? Noah needs his mother..."
And I need you, he thought.
His mention of Noah instantly calmed her down. Even with all the loss of the past week, thinking about her son - still so innocent and untouched by the horrors of her job and even his own past - always warmed her heart. Olivia and Rafael sat in silence, his hand never leaving her back, as he processed the exchange they'd just had.
Rafael chewed on his lip nervously and stared out the window at the busy street below, suddenly pensive and contemplative. "You know, sitting in that chapel that day really made me think."
"What about?"
"We've seen a lot of loss, haven't we?" The string of violence he'd seen since arriving at SVU flashed through his head, just like it had during the service: Johnny D. Judge Barth. Noah and Lucy, almost. Amaro and Rollins, even. Those didn't even include the numerous threats and minor injuries they'd received on the job, not to mention her harrowing ordeal with William Lewis, and close shave at the townhouse from a few months ago. Realising that Olivia hadn't yet been shot in the line of duty didn't bring him much comfort. Not to mention that he now was a target of threats. When were they going to catch a break?
Rafael knew that Olivia was thinking about the exact same events that he was. "We have," she muttered, tone brooding and melancholy. "Sometimes, I don't know what to think about all of this anymore. I'm exhausted," she admitted.
"I don't, either. Especially this week..."
Her voice dipped to a distressed whisper. "I'm worried about you, Rafael. I don't know what I'd do if I lose you too. Especially now."
Friction from earlier now smoothed over, he decided that it was his turn to come clean about all he'd been feeling too. "I was so scared when Heredio cornered me in the courthouse elevator, Liv. He just slipped in as I was heading downstairs, and I looked at the alarm button and he told me that it wasn't going to help me. I felt… so paralysed. Helpless." He'd told Amanda and Sonny about the incident that day, but this was his first time telling anyone - not even his own mother - what really went through his head during that elevator ride. "Said I've made so many enemies that I'll never know who sent him, and that I won't hear... the bullet that's coming for me."
"God, Rafael." Even after Amanda and Sonny briefed her on what'd happened at the courthouse that afternoon, she didn't have all the details, and hearing them from Rafael himself made them especially bone-chilling.
"And I was so distracted by Pastrino and the CO union and my fucking phone... I didn't even notice him follow me into the elevator, Liv. What if he had a knife? What if he'd snuck a gun into the courthouse? I might not even be here to talk to you about this now," he added, voice trembling. "And he was paid by someone to threaten me. I don't know who else could be behind this."
The thought of Rafael getting stabbed or God forbid, shot, sent a wave of horror through her. She was terrified for him, but she had to do something about this. She could do something about this. "I'm going to make sure that the Gang Unit and Threat Assessment sort this out for you, Rafael. We'll keep you out of harm's way."
He could hear her fear, but her eyes were resolute and determined, and he realised he felt safe looking into them. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Liv."
"We'll sort this out, hopefully sooner than later. You'll be out of here."
"I've never been threatened like this... what if they'd broken into my apartment? What if I'd lost my life, just like that, before we became friends again? Before we settled whatever's going on between us?" he admitted with a lump in his throat. He anxiously looked at her, wondering if she was on the same page, and was reassured when he saw her wordless agreement. His eyes, now beckoning and tender, met hers. "When the threats came, when Mike was in the hospital, when we were at the funeral… I was terrified. When I sat in that church, staring at Mike's portrait, I realised that I can't lose you too. I hate that things between us are like this now. I don't want them to be this way. Everything this week felt too close for comfort."
"I know. Everything feels like it's gone to utter shit lately. You have no idea how much I hate this - so many times I just wanted that arrangement we made in the park to screw off and for us to be friends again. Because there's been so much loss…" she choked, "I'm sorry for showing up here and getting worked up, but I can't keep you at arm's length anymore."
She paused for a second, deliberating whether or not to say it, but eventually did.
"I've missed you, Rafael."
He broke out into a sad - but relieved - smile. "I've missed you too, Liv."
Green eyes met brown and they moved closer to each other, his arm still around her shoulders. She allowed herself to cling onto him for support, their quiet breaths the only sound in the room. His hand drew circles on her upper arm, and she luxuriated in the smell of his cologne and feeling of his soft cotton T-shirt against her skin. The loss, grief, Ed, Dodds... all those problems suddenly felt smaller in his embrace, and she focussed on how warm and steadying his breath felt against her temple. Having her closest friend back was a source of relief she hadn't even realised she desperately needed, especially in a week like this. It'd been hell without him by her side like he always was, but she had him with her right now, and that was enough.
"When do you need to get back to the precinct?" he asked, suddenly conscious of the time. Rain continued to pour mercilessly outside the window, and he hoped that it meant she could delay her return. He didn't want to let go of her - without all the frenzy of the precinct or his office and Ed Tucker around to watch him like a hawk, this was the most time he'd had with Olivia in weeks, and by far the most connected they'd felt.
And judging by her contented expression, she didn't want to leave either.
"I don't have to be back yet. Just hold me, please," she whispered, and he gratefully obliged.
By the time Amanda returned to the precinct, having realised that Jesse's "stomach problems" really were just a combination of fussy eating and a brand-new sitter, she immediately peeked into Olivia's office and realised that she still wasn't back. Over two hours had gone by, and it seemed like an awfully long time to spend alone with Barba in his room - if she was still there, that is - especially when they didn't have a case to discuss.
She noticed Sonny sitting at his desk, freshly showered and hunched over some routine paperwork. "Sonny, have you seen Liv today?" Maybe she'd popped out of the precinct again after returning from her visit to Barba.
Sonny shook his head. "Nope. Maybe Tucker came by to take her out to lunch, like he always does."
"Weird. When I left this morning she was going to visit Barba in the hotel. She's probably still there. Hope Tucker doesn't come by and freak when he realises she's gone."
Visualising Ed Tucker "freaking out" reminded him of the awkward interaction they'd had with him in the hospital waiting room when they had him wake Olivia up to talk about Felipe Heredio. "You noticed how weird he was about us waking Liv up to follow up on the Barba threats, right?" he leaned in and whispered. "Like he was possessive of Liv, or hates Barba enough that he doesn't want Liv to get involved in his business. Or… like he's jealous of Barba?"
"Jealous sounds about right. Brian Cassidy definitely was jealous of Barba," Amanda pointed out. Sonny hadn't been around for that, but he'd heard all about his tumultuous relationship with Olivia, and him being the jealous type was completely in character for him. "Not surprised if Tucker feels the same, especially after Barba disclosed his relationship with Liv to 1PP. I was just telling Fin the other day that things have been weird lately. Tucker keeps showing up here, and Liv and Barba are barely talking. What's gotten into them? The investigation was ages ago. It may be something else."
"Maybe I should ask Barba about it the next time I see him," Sonny contemplated out loud.
"You ask him?" she laughed. "Please, like Barba's going to confide in the person who's been bugging him about legal stuff all year. Seriously, though, we'll have to get to the bottom of this sometime."
Sonny furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his voice. "You think something's wrong?"
"Liv, Tucker and Barba. Something happened for sure. I can't put a finger on it, but god damn, things have been awkward lately," Amanda replied with a frown.
"You know what would be weird? If Tucker shows up here looking for Liv and we have to tell him that you last saw her when she left to visit Barba. Maybe she's arguing with him in his room right now," Sonny joked.
"Or they could be passionately making out," Amanda deadpanned sarcastically, to which Sonny glared at her. "I'm not suggesting Liv cheat on Ed Tucker, good Catholic boy. But don't tell me that you honestly didn't expect Liv and Barba to get together at some point. The way they look... or looked... at each other..."
"I don't hate Ed Tucker as much as you do, Manda, but yeah - Liv and Barba would make a pretty good pair," he admitted.
"See, I knew I was on to something," she winked. Of course Liv won't cheat on Ed, Amanda thought, but she could speculate until Liv and Tucker inevitably broke up.
Rafael didn't know how much time had passed, but he didn't care when he had Olivia Benson in his arms.
The rain had subsided to a light drizzle and the storm clouds were starting to clear, but they clung to each other tightly, exchanging nary a word. He was safe in this room, and he'd finally been able to talk to Olivia about everything that was going on. It felt as though a massive weight had been taken off his shoulders, and feeling her chest gently rise and fall against his arm filled him with a peaceful contentment he didn't think was possible under these circumstances.
"Liv?" he whispered.
"Mmm?" she responded, without looking up at him.
"Thank you for coming."
"I'm glad I did." He could feel her smile.
After their restful silence, Rafael suddenly felt alive to her again - the way her brown eyes sparkled in the light, her soft and warm skin, the lilt in her voice. He'd never held someone like this before, but it felt like he'd been doing this for years, from the way they were leaning on each other. He drank in the sight of her face, now so close to his, recalling the way her soft lips felt. His memories of the night they'd shared were starting to fade and blur with time, but he'd never forget the first brush of her lips against his, their tongues touching; the way her brown eyes stared into his as she undressed and caressed him.
He'd never get to experience that again, but God, how he loved this woman. Even if he couldn't love her in that way, he still was going to relish every moment he had with her.
Olivia looked up at him - the light was back in her eyes, and he loved seeing her lips curl into an enigmatic, alluring smile. He tried desperately to read her expression: Adoration? Gratefulness? Comfort? Longing?
Desire?
Their faces inched closer and closer, eyes not parting even for a split-second. He almost could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin, and...
Bzzzzz.
Olivia's phone buzzed repeatedly and clattered noisily against the glass tabletop of the desk, abruptly breaking the silence. She didn't want to move - her legs felt like lead and she was so comfortable in Rafael's arms - but it quickly became apparent that she was going to have to pick up.
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, and got up from the bed to answer the call. "Fin?"
Rafael watched her eyes fill with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "Okay. I'm heading back now," she muttered.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and sighed. "I need to go. Work calls."
He hid the disappointment in his voice. Of all the times to get called back to work, now. But he wasn't going to keep her in this room and away from what definitely sounded more important than keeping him company. "I get it, Liv. Go."
She looked at him apologetically, and he could have sworn that for just a second, the same longing he'd seen in her eyes just a minute ago flashed through them once more.
"I'll be back later."
She put her raincoat back on and slipped out the door, but not before casting him a long, lingering glance.
The bagel that she'd brought him, now cold and stale, lay untouched on the table, next to the pretzels and mints and unopened scotch bottle - evidence that she'd actually been there. It wasn't a dream.
He collapsed back onto the unmade bed and felt himself sink into it - he was absolutely exhausted, and the stacks of case files on the desk suddenly felt trivial in comparison to the sheer intensity of the conversation they'd just had. His throat was parched, eyes swollen and heavy. He could have sworn that they were dangerously close to kissing again - fucking things up even more than they had to again.
So why did it feel so damn good?
The bagel remained untouched on the desk until he heard the same familiar knock at his door six hours later.
This time, he didn't make her wait - he flung the door open, almost too quickly, and was greeted by Olivia in the exact same clothes as earlier, this time holding a bag of what looked and smelled like take-out from Forlini's. He couldn't resist breaking out into a smile when he saw her. She'd really come back.
"Hey, I hope you've worked up an appetite," she smiled. She looked like she was in higher spirits, which came as a relief after that very heartfelt and emotionally-charged exchange they'd had earlier that day. All he wanted was a light-hearted evening with a friend.
Rafael's stomach growled and he realised he'd gone the entire afternoon without eating anything. He'd spent a few hours looking at case files and watching whatever was on HBO, but hadn't thought to eat after all the tears he'd cried that morning. "How did you get take-out from Forlini's? They've never let me do that."
"I twisted Anthony's arm. I didn't think you'd want a whole steak - they don't travel well, anyway - so I got you some pasta." She unbagged two containers of food - spaghetti for him, ravioli for her - and the aroma wafted through the room, whetting his appetite for the first time in many hours.
"You know me so well." She'd even brought him a pesto-based pasta, knowing how much he disliked tomato-based sauces, and beamed realising that. "Thank you."
"Also - I'd have brought wine or something to drink, but they didn't let me get that to-go," she added apologetically.
"That's fine - you've already bought the drinks." He pointed at the untouched, unopened bottle of scotch on the desk. Was it wise to suggest they open it up? He could almost taste it on her breath once again, burning and lingering on his lips, as they silently contemplated the possibilities.
"Pour me a glass," she finally said. "I could use one after today."
He retrieved two glasses - the solitary one from the hotel mini-bar, and another brand-new one from Olivia's paper bag. The exact same brand and make of glass he kept in his office; the one he'd shattered in his rage and frustration a few weeks ago. She'd bought him a brand new one. Was this a sign? He quickly pushed that thought to the back of his head and opened the bottle, the amber liquid trickling slowly into each glass and aroma burning his nostrils. It'd been so long since he'd last poured himself - or her - a glass, and the otherwise simple gesture suddenly took on a ceremonial importance. The end of their unofficial Cold War; the fall of the Berlin Wall of their friendship. Suddenly, it didn't pain him to think of this drink anymore.
They sipped slowly in between bites of food. "How was work today?" he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was an odd question - usually he was privy to her work or deeply involved in it, but being in this room all day and on leave made him feel completely removed from the squad all of a sudden.
Olivia stared at her half-finished ravioli, unsure if she should tell him that Chief Dodds had come by to retrieve his son's things from his desk, and that there was nary a dry eye in the squad room - even from the usually stoic Fin. She took a drink from her glass and contemplated her words. "Chief Dodds came by, and… you know. It's going to take some time to get used to seeing him around."
"It's still raw, Liv. Everyone's going to need some time to process things."
If it'd been Ed, or even Amanda or Sonny, saying this to her, she'd silently curse at them for being preachy. But from Rafael, it was sagacious and calming. She nodded slightly and turned her attention to her half-eaten pasta. "Wanna turn the TV on for a bit?" she suggested.
Rafael sensed that all she wanted was a distraction from the day, and immediately reached for the remote on the bed. The first channel that appeared on the screen was the Food Network, which was replaying episodes of Cupcake Wars. Neither of them cared much for it, but it was a light-hearted distraction, and they chewed on their pasta to the backdrop of commentary about icing consistency, cake batter, and marzipan toppers.
"You know, I'm a pretty good baker," he remarked, as the judges deliberated between the final two contestants.
"Self-praise is no-praise, Rafael," she retorted sarcastically.
"Ask my colleagues at the Brooklyn DA's office. I think my baked goods aren't too shabby."
"Why haven't you ever baked things for us?" Olivia pouted. Imagining Rafael standing in his kitchen, wearing an apron and dusted in flour and icing sugar, made her giggle.
"Well, you've never asked," he joked. "I'll make something for you and Noah once I'm out of here. What do you like? Brownies? Cupcakes? Cookies? You name it, I'll make it."
She smiled appreciatively - she never had time to bake, and she was sure Noah would appreciate a homemade sweet treat. "Where did you learn how to bake?"
"My mom baked stuff for her students all the time before she became principal of the charter school. Taught me quite a few recipes and tricks."
"You're going to have to teach me, then," she laughed. "I can't bake to save my life. I'm probably the only mom who can't." Usually, it didn't bother her, but she thought of the other moms at daycare and Noah's future grade school - a few more years and she'd probably be fussing over this. She shuddered a little thinking about it.
"Well, not many moms catch the city's worst sexual predators or get confessions out of difficult suspects, so I'd say you hold your own," he said sincerely. "You'll make one hell of a Career Day speaker."
His compliment, as casual and off-handed as it was, warmed her heart. She'd been so caught up in the events of the last few weeks that she'd almost forgotten what it meant to be good at her job. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."
"Always, Liv."
"Thanks for distracting me. I really needed it today." She hadn't thought about Mike Dodds or Heredio in nearly an hour, which said a lot about Rafael's ability to calm her down. Already she felt some tension flee her body, and she'd even finished the pasta she'd ordered after a couple of days of not eating well. She snuck a peek at Rafael's take-out container and was pleasantly surprised to see that he'd finished his pasta as well - seeing him get some of his usual voracious appetite back was a relief indeed.
Rafael bagged the empty containers and tossed him in the nearby trash can. "Thank you for dinner. And for the scotch," he added, waving his half-finished glass in the air. "And for visiting. Being stuck in this room for 24 hours a day sucks less when I have company."
"It's the least I can do." She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. "Let's hope this ends soon."
Stomachs and hearts full, they sipped the rest of their scotch slowly and enjoyed the peaceful silence that now fell over the room. Even the busy street below seemed quieter than usual, and Olivia realised it was the first time in days that she felt truly at ease. Rafael smiled to himself seeing her relax, although he couldn't help but wonder when she'd have to leave. It was already past 8.30pm, and surely she had to get home to Noah before it got too late. And what about Ed Tucker? She hadn't mentioned him at all the whole day, and he was surprised that he hadn't called asking where she was - he'd seemed awfully clingy of late, and Rafael wasn't surprised.
But Rafael wasn't going to bring either of those topics up unless she did. As selfish as he felt about enjoying her company at this time of the night, the contentment and happiness he was feeling easily outweighed anything else. He had no way of controlling how Ed Tucker would react, and if Olivia didn't seem to care, he wasn't going to care either, especially after the extreme circumstances of the week, which were far more important than romantic drama could ever be. He finished the last of his glass of scotch, feeling it tingle as it slid down the back of his throat, and smiled at Olivia, who'd just finished her glass as well. She gently placed the glass back on the desk and took her seat back next to him - so close that their thighs almost touched.
They'd turned the television off after the episode ended, and the room was once again silent. He set his glass down on the table, next to hers, and they sat side-by-side, unsure of what to do or say next, but savouring a rare moment of tranquility before a new day started and they'd have to return to reality. Rafael shifted closer to her and she didn't flinch - he inhaled deeply, drinking in her scent, her brown eyes, her warm, scotch-scented breath. She stared into his green eyes, now tender and vulnerable and full of love, and recalled how his lips brushed against hers when she'd leaned in to kiss him that night over a month ago. She gazed at the faint hint of stubble on his chin; the gentle flare of his nostrils as he inhaled sharply. The longing looks they'd exchanged right before she left the room that afternoon suddenly came back and filled them with breathless anticipation.
She was safe with Rafael Barba, and the tragedy of the past week felt a million miles away.
He was safe with Olivia Benson, and no number of unwelcome threats from Felipe Heredio and BX9 could shake the love and adoration he had for this woman. In fact, he realised, it only made his love burn stronger.
This time, he made the first move.
Rafael slowly pressed his lips to Olivia's, his stubble lightly grazing her chin. He waited for a split-second until he felt her lips press back, and the familiar burn of leftover scotch on the tip of his tongue, which sent a ripple of electricity through his body. He didn't know how he hadn't craved more of this after the night they'd slept together. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in his scent and touch, her mind racing with anticipation and desire.
He didn't let the pit of hot desire in the recesses of his stomach take over. She ignored the rush of heat to her core and focussed on his face; the way his hands felt on her upper arms. There was no impulsive heat; no vigorous lust. Instead, he gently brought his hands to her face, cupping it gingerly, and kissed her the way he always wished he could: slow, sweet, tender, loving.
Olivia fought the desire to open her eyes and stare at Rafael; to snap back to reality and remind herself that this was the way she kissed Ed Tucker, not Rafael Barba. She loved Ed, didn't she? Her night with Rafael had been one of pure debauchery, fuelled by a heady mix of lust, desire, and anger, right?
But the way Rafael was holding her so lovingly, and how their lips met like fire and ice, and the conversation they'd had in this tiny room: it was the most alert, the most alive, she'd felt in days; heck, in weeks or even months. Olivia silenced the voice in her head telling her to keep her emotional walls up; to continue punishing herself for what had happened to Mike Dodds, or between her and Ed. She surrendered to the warmth and comfort of Rafael's embrace and lips on hers and basked in their newfound intimacy.
She let him love her.
Every kiss that he planted on her lips felt like a healing balm that closed her gaping emotional wounds.
Lips caressing. There was no Munson house debacle.
His hands gently running through her hair. Mike Dodds hadn't died.
His stubble against her chin. Ed wasn't suffocating her.
Her legs tangled up in his. Heredio had never threatened Rafael.
Tongues touching. This was exactly where she wanted to be - not with Ed, not pretending Rafael was Ed. She was all Rafael's.
The kisses grew increasingly passionate and loving, and their embraces tighter, but they were no less tender than the first gentle caress he'd initiated.
They finally pulled away for air, arms still locked in an embrace. Hesitation and anxiety suddenly flashed through his eyes again. Was she going to recoil in disgust when the enormity of what she'd done - again - sank in? Was she going to stand up and leave? Or - he couldn't even fathom this - was this the final nail in the coffin of their wildly tumultuous relationship? The next few seconds felt agonisingly long; his stomach was in knots waiting for her reaction. Her eyes drifted to the digital clock on the nightstand, and the pit in his stomach settled as he watched her deliberate her next move.
But none of the hatred, regret or pain he'd expected to see flashed through her eyes, which took him by surprise. What on earth is she thinking?
"It's getting late. I'd better get home to Noah," she finally said matter-of-factly, nary a hint of emotion in her voice.
Rafael looked at her questioningly - he still didn't know what was running through her head. He followed her every movement intently as she calmly and wordlessly got up from the bed, retrieved her jacket from the floor, and made her way towards the door. She opened the door and his stomach lurched once again: he wasn't sure if he could live with himself if they parted ways like this. Being alone in the hotel room all day long was doing enough to his head, and he felt a pang of pain in his chest thinking about how he'd spend the next few days alone if he didn't get any closure from this.
Still, he watched as she fiddled with the buttons of her jacket and headed towards the hallway, imagining the feeling of his lips on hers and feeling himself sink into the mattress. Had they really just kissed, sitting on the edge of this very bed?
Had he really just kissed her, sitting on the edge of this very bed?
"Rafael?"
Her voice roused him back to reality and he sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, Liv?"
She already was halfway out the door, but he could make out the tiniest of smiles on her face. "Can I come back tomorrow?"
Did that mean what he thought it did?
"Of course, Liv." He wanted to press her for details, thank her again for coming, even beg her to return, but she was gone before he could get another word in.
His brain was buzzing with emotion and he could barely think coherently, but God, he couldn't wait for tomorrow to arrive.