"You really should get this printed and framed," Rafael remarked cheerfully as he peered over Olivia's shoulder at the high-definition photograph of a smiling Olivia next to Joe Biden that filled half her laptop screen.

"Come on, you know I'm not the kind to hang a photo like that in my office," she retorted, although the deep blush flooding her cheeks made it clear that the excitement of that morning's events hadn't yet left her.

It all felt like a fever dream - the Secret Service staff flooding the place at the crack of dawn, blinding camera flashes, her shaking Biden's hand, the giddy exhilaration that flooded her body as he said her - her! - name…

Thanks to the dedicated efforts of law enforcement, the whole legal system, the victim's advocacy groups, and particularly my friend here, Lieutenant Olivia Benson of SVU...

She'd looked out into the crowd, drinking in the triumphant smiles of her squad, but especially the adoration on Rafael Barba's face as Biden spoke those words, his green eyes twinkling with pride and respect. And now, standing in front of her in her office 24 hours later, that delighted twinkle still hadn't disappeared.

"But you should, when you have a photo with the literal Vice President of the United States, Lieutenant Benson," he beamed proudly. "You look great. I'll send it to my usual photo guy."

"You have a "usual photo guy"?" she laughed, pretending not to notice the compliment he'd casually slipped in. This smooth bastard.

"When your large Cuban extended family meets four times a year, you need a reliable photo guy to print albums and albums of photos of your cousins getting drunk. This photo, though," he pointed to her screen, "deserves a frame of its own."

"I think you were more excited about Biden's visit than I was, Rafael," she pointed out, an amused chuckle escaping her throat.

His lips curled into an earnest, proud grin. "Of course I was. Especially when you have two victories to celebrate - an innocent man is out of prison, and more rape kits are getting tested than ever… I'm proud of you, Liv."

Olivia's breath caught hearing the pride in his voice - the conviction with which he'd said that about her - and a giddy, exhilarated warmth flooded her. A man now had his life back - 16 years too late, but a life returned, nonetheless, and she'd already received countless congratulatory emails from fellow Special Victims commanding officers across the nation after the news broke. But the sincerity and uncanny simplicity of Rafael's remarks made her heart stir in a way it didn't usually.

"I need to get back to the office now, but email me the photo. I'll get it printed for you," he insisted, still smiling proudly.

He dashed out of her office, obviously in high spirits, and Olivia stared at the photo on her screen once more, allowing herself to bask in her hard-fought sense of accomplishment. After the hell that was the summer and the Ana Kapic case, this did feel good - and maybe she did want the photo hanging in her office after all…

Tell your usual photo guy that I say thanks.

:)

-Liv

A smiley face? Was she 15 or 50? But it seemed apt for the occasion, so she kept it in the email in the hopes that he'd at least get a mid-day laugh out of it.

She hit send on the email and let the warmth of his words percolate for the rest of the afternoon - this was a victory she wanted to enjoy before all hell inevitably broke loose again.

Much to both their disappointment, hell did break loose when the Sean Roberts case took an unexpectedly gruesome, stomach-twisting turn.

Rafael had felt the joyous mood of Biden's visit extinguish almost instantly when the squad had to bring Sean Roberts in on another rape charge, and again when they'd learned that Ashley Harper had succumbed to her grievous injuries. However, it was only when the trial had ended, when he'd trailed Olivia out of the building and to the top of the courthouse steps, that he'd fully felt the extent of her crushing defeat.

The whole week she'd been especially on edge - he'd snuck glances at her troubled expression all through the trial - but even with the case officially closed and Sean Roberts enroute back to prison after pleading guilty to the charges, he knew that something was still nagging at her.

"Justice sure isn't pretty some days," Olivia lamented as she watched Melanie Harper trudge away, the weight of two losses hanging heavy on her shoulders.

"Damn ugly this time," Rafael sighed. "You want to talk about it?"

"I would if I knew where to begin," she replied pensively, as Melanie disappeared down the steps to the subway station.

Perhaps this would be the last time that either of them would see her, but out of sight didn't mean out of mind - especially not with this case.

For a second Rafael wondered if Olivia was going to follow her into the station, but she remained rooted to the spot as though her legs were made of lead, that forlorn, disheartened gaze that always made his stomach turn still on her face.

"I should get back to the precinct now," she muttered quietly, and before he knew it, she too was halfway down the steps and vanishing from his sight.

Rafael wanted to chase after her; ask her what was on her mind, but something was telling him to wait - wait until they found somewhere else they could stew in their emotions, the epicentre of their defeat out of their sight. Clearly she hadn't wanted to talk about it just yet, and he wanted to respect that, although he felt an anxiety pool in his stomach as he began a slow walk back to his office a few minutes away.

He just knew that Olivia's silent, crushing defeat - a defeat that looked like far more than just the aftermath of the Roberts trial - would hang heavy on his mind until he got that opportunity.

When Rafael entered Forlini's the following night and spotted a solitary Olivia at the bar, he knew that the events of the trial were still weighing on her, and his mind started racing with ways that he could share some of that burden with her.

Ever since she'd adopted Noah she usually preferred to spend nights in the comfort of her apartment, dropping by Forlini's far less than she had previously (much to his disappointment, although he never dared express it), so her presence here tonight instantly took on greater significance. She'd made herself comfortable on the stool next to his usual seat, as though half-expecting him to show up by her side.

(At least, that was what he was hoping.)

"Thought I might find you here."

Olivia followed the sound of the familiar voice to the end of the bar, where Rafael was approaching her with a nondescript brown envelope in hand. She managed a tentative nod at him, grateful for a distraction and the possibility of company, but he didn't miss the listless way she traced the rim of her glass, or her vacant stare at the game playing on the TV screen.

"I don't know if you're in any mood to look at this now, but I was passing by and it was ready, so…" He slid the envelope over to her, Olivia wondering what on earth he was talking about, until she gingerly opened the flap and out slid a glossy print of her photograph with Joe Biden, their ear-to-ear grins reminding her of a better, less fraught time less than a fortnight ago. She gingerly ran her finger over the oak frame - he'd picked out a simple, tasteful design, but it still looked like it cost a bomb, and she wished she were in a better mood to appreciate his gift.

"Thanks," she muttered half-heartedly, but quickly cleared her throat and straightened when she noticed his concerned glance. He was one person she could muster the remnants of her enthusiasm for. "I mean… I appreciate this, Rafael, but you're right - I'm not really in the mood to look at them at the moment."

He eyed the still-full wine glass sitting in front of her - if even a glass of solid Cabernet wasn't doing anything for her, it had to be something serious. "You still hung up about Sean Roberts?"

"I guess," she replied with a sigh. "It's been a rough week."

"Is it something I did?" he asked concernedly, scanning her eyes for residual anger. "Was I too harsh on Amanda and Fin this week?"

She shook her head in confusion. "Why would you think that? You raised perfectly reasonable concerns."

"Just… because," Rafael hesitated, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead. This wasn't like him - since when did he get paranoid about offending Olivia while they worked on a case? What'd happened to the unspoken assumption that there'd be no hard feelings no matter how ugly things got? Had they worked this case a few months ago, he wouldn't have given his behaviour a second thought; now, thinking about how he'd lightly chided Amanda and Fin during the trial, even just that was making him question if Olivia was disenchanted with him. First the Ana Kapic case, and now this - on the surface things seemed like business as usual, but his increasingly nervous trains of thought told another story.

"It really isn't you, Rafael," she reiterated, this time slightly more insistently. "If I were mad at you, I'd tell you, not sit here and drink alone," she added with a weary smile.

She had a good point. He could trust her.

And now he needed to be here for her.

The (irrational) worry that'd been nagging at him all day finally dissipated, and he found the confidence to slip off his jacket and slide into the seat next to her. "Something else you want to talk about, then?"

"To think that the literal Vice-President of the United States was standing in our squad room two weeks ago, and now Sean Roberts is on his way back to jail," she noted with a dry, wistful chuckle. "Talk about the highest of highs and lowest of lows."

"Lowest of lows?" He frowned concernedly. Was it really that bad? "I know this case hit a raw nerve, but Sean really did do it this time, Liv. You guys got it right," he said firmly, hoping that his confidence would assuage her self-doubt slightly.

Olivia was unconvinced. "I know that, but just thinking about those sixteen years in jail made him a shell of his former self is getting to me," she said quietly, her face turning at the thought of the brutality he'd experienced behind bars - brutality that she clearly thought she had a part in inflicting.

"What happened to him was horrific, Liv, but it doesn't change the fact that he brutally raped and murdered one of the people who was helping him get a fresh start. He knew what he was doing," Rafael asserted, this time more emphatically.

"But what about all the other people who are sitting in jail for crimes they didn't commit, because of me?" she retorted, her voice suddenly rising in an impassioned crescendo. "What if I've made another Sean Roberts, and I don't even know it yet?"

Shit. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst and panicked for a few seconds - where was this doubt coming from? Surely there had to be something deeper to it; deeper than just this case. Rafael nervously laced his fingers together as he stumbled over what to say to Olivia, who was hunched over her wine in a defeated slump, her eyes questioning and posture full of unspoken tension.

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, just loud enough to be audible over the noise of the bar. "You're good at your job, Liv. Meticulous. I really don't think you need to be concerned about that. Why the sudden worry?" His hand lightly brushed against hers under the counter, the cursory touch sending shockwaves through his body - but he didn't let himself get sidetracked.

She didn't turn to meet his gaze. "Well, you don't know how things were 5 years ago," she retorted sharply, her voice suddenly flooded with frustration.

5 years ago. 2011. Where was I in 2011?

He racked his brains.

My mom became the principal at her school, I got that pay raise I wanted, my cousin Gisele got married, I moved to that tiny studio in Brooklyn Heights…

Brooklyn. Of course.

He hadn't yet met Olivia - not in person, at least - although her reputation had preceded her, and there probably wasn't a person who worked SVU in all 5 boroughs who hadn't heard of her or the huge cases she'd cracked. When he'd first transferred to Manhattan he'd heard numerous stories about her knack for cases and empathetic streak…

… and her ex-partner.

"Elliot Stabler?" he blurted out before he'd had a chance to fully form that thought. Why he'd instantly thought of Stabler and none of the other possibilities, he didn't know, but the burdened frown she now wore confirmed that he'd hit the nail on the head.

Rafael couldn't decide if the emotion that flooded him was relief - relief that he'd finally found out the real cause of her pensive mood - or really just the explosion of his long-held curiosity about that man; a man everyone seemed to speak of only in hushed whispers and had practically been erased from the squad room. Not even the photo wall in the breakroom, practically a shrine to every ex-cop who worked in that building, contained a single trace of the man. Carisi and Rollins and even Nick Amaro had never met him, at least to his knowledge, and Fin was almost as reluctant as Olivia was to bring him up - Elliot Stabler basically was an enigma to him.

So just what had he done to render him such a pariah in the Special Victims Unit - and virtual exile from Olivia's mind, until now?

"How did you know his name?" she asked with genuine surprise, although she realised that it was a stupid question when the words escaped her lips - of course Rafael would know, especially working with Brooklyn SVU for as long as he did, to the extent that it honestly was surprising that she hadn't crossed paths with him earlier.

But that the name had come to his mind so quickly shocked her. In all the years she'd worked with Rafael, she didn't think she'd ever even mentioned Elliot's name in his presence, let alone spoken at length about him; to hear that name again, and from Rafael's lips, made her flinch.

"You underestimate me, Liv," he quipped with a sarcastic smirk in a futile attempt to lighten the increasingly sombre mood. "But in all seriousness, I studied plenty of your cases while I was working Brooklyn SVU - especially when I was gunning for this transfer. You and your partner made some pretty big collars."

"We sure did, huh," she noted with a remarkable lack of emotion, her gaze fixed on the bottles behind the counter.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he probed gently when she fell silent.

She straightened in her seat and took a slow sip of her Cabernet. "Look, Rafael… I don't want to put that burden on you, especially after…" Her voice trailed off thinking of that tense afternoon after she'd returned from Paris; the harsh and eviscerating way he'd told her that she'd strung him along; that she'd been selfish for unloading all her problems on him. Did that linger at the back of his mind? Did he want to listen? Did she - could she - finally find release for the thoughts that'd been bubbling all day?

"I mean it, Liv. Talk all you want," he said reassuringly, his hand once again lightly brushing against hers as he shifted in his seat - so close that their shoulders were now inches apart, itching to touch.

This time, it was her turn for electricity to course through her body - it was like he'd read her mind. She angled herself to look him in the eye, emboldened by the silent permission he was giving her, and took a deep breath.

It was finally time to tell Rafael about Elliot.

And not the story of his departure that practically the whole world now knew about - the one that even she hadn't told Fin.

"Look, the whole world knows that Elliot left the way he did and I took it hard. But that's not what's bothering me now."

She paused to find the words, Rafael not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. He instinctively leaned even closer to her, his shoulder now lightly grazing hers, impervious to the increasingly raucous crowd gathering in the middle of the restaurant.

For a second he wished they were in the privacy of one of their offices, but without case files and legal textbooks within their line of vision, this felt far, far more intimate despite the growing crowd, he realised - and he was alert to her every word, every move.

"Have you ever wondered how many of the cases you've tried in the past are like this one? An innocent man, ending up in prison? Forced to endure all this torture for something he didn't even do?" she asked sadly.

"Of course," he confessed, although he knew that it wasn't time for him to spill his own fears to her. "But I also know that I'm just one link in the long chain that is the criminal justice system," he explained. "All the cops I've worked with - detectives and unis and techs - and the DA, the judges… heck, even 1PP. And I trust the people I've worked with. So I hope that our combined efforts make sure that only the right people - the people who actually committed a crime - end up in jail, if you get what I mean."

Olivia nodded slowly, although doubt was still written all over her face. "But what if someone you worked with - someone you thought you could trust - was the problem all along?"

Rafael silently motioned for her to continue, feeling more attentive than he'd ever been with her. "Elliot was violent. I watched him nearly kill so many suspects in our interrogation room to get a confession; literally wrestle them to the ground when we went to pick them up. How many confessions did he coerce out of our suspects? And why did I just stand there and watch and think that this was alright? Why didn't I say something?" she rambled nervously, her voice increasingly charged with emotion - remorse.

"He still was your superior, Liv," he reminded her gently. "I know it doesn't excuse everything, but you were the only female detective in a very male-dominated squad. There are many layers to this situation..."

"Still…" she interrupted quietly, "...I haven't been able to stop thinking about how responsible I feel for letting his control issues get so out of hand. It was like he swallowed every room he was in, and I was standing there and watching, blind to all these problems."

"That doesn't sound like a particularly healthy partnership," he remarked, not quite knowing what else to say out of fear of offending her - he had to tread carefully.

"It wasn't. And that's why I'm still bothered by it now. It took me so long to realise that," she remarked remorsefully. "Over ten years being right there and I just… let things slide like I was blind. How many more Sean Roberts are there? Perps that Elliot and I sent to prison because their confessions were coerced? Because we tried to bend the rules at every turn and I didn't speak up nearly enough?"

Rafael winced - he'd heard plenty of whispers about Stabler's particularly aggressive working style - but hearing Olivia finally open up about the man with all that pain and regret in her voice made his stomach clench.

"Honestly, I don't know many more Sean Roberts are out there, Liv. But I do know that you're a good detective who does good work. And I'm willing to bet that you're not the same person as you were back then."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked skeptically, shoulders still hunched over her drink with resignation.

"Well, I didn't know you five years ago, but the fact that you're sitting here right now, telling me about all this, makes it sound like you've long outgrown that phase of your career," he observed, careful to avoid another mention of Elliot's name. "And I'm sure that what he did would never fly in your squadroom today."

He gestured at the brown envelope resting on the bar beside him. "I mean, the actual Vice President of the United States showed up at the precinct to give you the credit you deserve for your rape kit backlog advocacy. That's something to be proud of. This debacle has been a tragedy, I know… but you're doing actual work to make sure that things change," he smiled.

Olivia stared at him in a stunned - but appreciative - silence. How did she deserve someone like that - someone who knew her so well that he knew exactly what to say to make her feel better? After all she'd done to royally fuck up her love life, it was the last thing she thought she deserved - but here she was, listening to words of praise so generous and uninhibited that she couldn't believe that it was her that he was referring to…

They were sitting so close that his scotch-tinged breath almost warmed her face, and she let a tidal wave of emotion pour over her - residual hurt from the case and anger and regret from years of pent-up feelings, now intermingled with the warmth and comfort of Rafael's presence next to her.

And it felt good.

Maybe she didn't fully believe him - she was so unused to anyone she worked with being so generous with their praise that her defences shot up instinctively - but the earnestness in his voice and expression made her heart stir.

Rafael slid the envelope towards her. "Take the photo with you, Liv. Even if you don't want to hang it up now… you at least have it as a memento. And my "usual photo guy" did a pretty good job with it, if I can say so myself."

She accepted it tentatively, feeling its weight in her palms. He was right - she definitely didn't want to hang it up now, but he'd still gotten it printed and framed beautifully for her, and she had a feeling that she'd want to look at it again someday; maybe show it to Noah in a few years' time and brag that she'd gotten a photo with Joe Biden. That thought delighted her, and suddenly the envelope didn't feel so heavy in her hands.

"Thank you. I owe you one," she smiled sincerely, feeling the intricately-carved oak frame between her fingers.

"Anytime." Rafael drummed his fingers against his empty scotch glass and checked his watch. "Gosh, it's getting late. Need a ride home?"

"Funny that you're offering a ride home when you don't even drive," she laughed amusedly. "But no, I think I'll stay here a while longer and finish this drink."

"I'll probably call it a night so I can get some sleep before my 8am motions hearing, but you take care and get home safe, Liv."

"You too, Rafael."

She watched him leave Forlini's, fingers still gripping the brown envelope, heart a little fuller than it'd been just an hour ago.

Later that night, as Olivia tucked herself into bed and slid the envelope into her nightstand drawer for safekeeping, she checked her phone a final time and felt her heart race a little realising that she had a message from him.

Hope you're feeling better and that you made it back safe.

The burden of everything they'd discussed still weighed on her shoulders and probably was going to for a long time to come, but the reminder of his belief in her made it feel slightly less suffocating.

Thanks for everything.

Don't mention it. I'll see you soon.

The self-doubt and guilt she was grappling with weren't going to disappear anytime soon, but Olivia realised with a contented smile that this was the first time in months that they'd had a text conversation like this, and fell asleep secure in the knowledge that she and Rafael were slowly, but steadily, rebuilding their relationship.

Whatever their next case was, she hoped it wouldn't jeopardise what they had.

Work was big enough of a monster as it was, so Olivia hadn't quite expected that the next time she saw him was to settle an issue of a much more personal nature. God must be testing me, she grumbled to herself as she approached his office and caught sight of him hunched over his legal pad, deep in thought.

Things had seemed to be going back to normal in the days after the Roberts trial - after the small high of their conversation in Forlini's she'd promptly put the case behind her and tried to bury her nagging self-doubt to focus on the next case… only to find out that Carisi had arranged a meeting with the Brooklyn DA's office.

With Rafael's help.

A small part of her was berating herself for marching all the way here, but how could she not when he was the cause of her most recent setback? If the two major cases they'd just closed hadn't been stressful enough, with a brand-new complicated one now in their laps, now she also was grappling with the possibility that her squad would soon be down yet another member.

Rafael looked up from his legal pad with genuine surprise and instinctively tensed in his seat seeing her fume. They'd apparently only just caught a new case, and he wasn't expecting to see her until at least the next day.

Shit, what had gone wrong this time?

"Liv? What are you doing here?" He put down his pen and reached for an empty coffee cup, but she stopped him before he could pour her one.

"Save it. Carisi goes MIA while we're working this case and I find out from Amanda that he's at an interview… with the Brooklyn DA's office. One that you helped set up! When were you going to tell me?" she demanded sharply. So much for "rebuilding our relationship" when he didn't breathe a word about this to me, she grumbled.

He stared at her in astonishment - this was what she was worked up about? A meeting that he'd taken 5 minutes to arrange? "I didn't tell you because I figured that Carisi would. He's the one who asked me to arrange this meeting for him. All I did was call an old friend in Brooklyn," he clarified, still not quite comprehending the source of her anger.

"Great," she retorted sarcastically. "I don't need someone else jumping ship from this squad, especially after the year we've had."

For a split-second, her eyes flashed with genuine sadness, and he took it as a cue to change his tone. "Not that I want you to be down another squad member, but he did pass the bar exam, Liv. It's only natural that he actually wants to practise law now," Rafael pointed out gently. "But surely you saw this coming when he got his results a couple of months ago… right?"

Olivia's mind flashed back to the day she'd learned that Carisi had passed, which now felt distant and hazy - right before they'd caught the Munson case. Of course it made sense for Carisi to think about his next chapter, especially after working so damn hard for it. Why hadn't this possibility crossed her mind?

Right - she'd been more than a little distracted by Ed and Rafael. She felt her cheeks flush slightly - she'd stormed into Rafael's office for this?

"Anyway, this wasn't a job interview," he explained. "All Carisi wanted to do was find out more about making the transition from cop to ADA in the future, so I asked him to talk to LaRosa about keeping up with his legal knowledge while he's on the job. You know I would've told you myself - or insisted Carisi talk to you first - if he actually was serious about leaving SVU," he added, now slightly hurt - which only made Olivia feel even worse for this unannounced visit.

Olivia visibly calmed down. "That's reasonable." Only then did she catch sight of the half-filled page of his legal pad and the Chinese take-out he'd been halfway through consuming, and more guilt shot through her system knowing how much Rafael hated being interrupted when he was working or eating - and he'd been doing both.

"It's fine…" he shrugged, "but Liv, what is this really about?" He cast her a knowing glance from across the table. "This isn't just about Carisi's meeting, is it?"

"I guess I haven't been feeling too good about myself after everything that's happened recently," she admitted sheepishly. "I've been questioning myself at every turn. And maybe… thinking that Carisi could leave SVU after such a short time made me think about all the ways I haven't been a good CO."

"I don't blame you. You've had a pretty rough few months," he remarked sympathetically. It hadn't been that long ago that Dodds had basically accused Olivia of getting his son killed in this very office, and the pained expression she now was wearing was eerily reminiscent of that day.

"And after that discussion we had at the bar a couple of days ago…" her voice trailed off.

Of course, he thought. It wasn't the kind of doubt that'd disappear with a few kind words. She always did a commendable job of hiding it in the squad room, but this was a look - a vulnerability - that she saved only for him, and he felt a sense of responsibility sink in.

He wanted to make her feel better; to put the light back in her eyes.

If not for this new situation they were navigating, he'd have embraced her a long time ago.

He settled for a reassuring touch of her arm, feeling her relax slightly as his fingers grazed her bare skin. "Liv, none of what's been going on reflects badly on you."

"I know you're right, but I still wish it wasn't getting me down so much," she sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm losing control of my own squadroom."

"We've just been really unlucky with the high-profile, political cases lately," he noted. "It's not on you if 1PP and the media decide to blow things up."

He had a good point, but it didn't do much to assuage her worry. "I really thought I'd have grown into this, but I've been lieutenant for a year and it doesn't get any easier," she lamented. "You were right - I do need to get more politically savvy."

Rafael cringed recalling the harsh tone he'd used with her in her office during the Ana Kapic case (had he really told her to her face that she was idealistic and selfish?), and now wished he could take it back. "Hey, I know it didn't come out the right way, but I really didn't mean that as an insult. We both know you're not the most politically savvy person around, but heck, it's precisely because you don't play politics that you make one hell of an SVU detective. William Dodds can go fuck himself if he wants to challenge me on that."

Despite the grave seriousness of their conversation up to that point, hearing Rafael tell Dodds to go fuck himself with that proud, confident smirk on his face was too vivid an image not to imagine and Olivia couldn't resist the chuckle that escaped her throat.

Rafael felt a wave of relief wash over him seeing her cheer up. "You know I'm always in your corner, right?" he assured.

She smiled shyly. "How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?"

He casually waved that comment away. "Doesn't take much when I mean every word."

"Sorry for barging in here today. I should've thought this through before coming here," she added apologetically.

"It's not a problem. You're welcome in here any time," he beamed. "And just for the record…"

She cocked her head and silently beckoned for him to continue.

"... I'm glad you came here to tell me about this. You know, that whole thing we agreed on about talking to each other about things," he added reassuringly.

A look of recognition crossed her face. He was right. Better that they got things out of the way as soon as possible instead of letting things stew for too long.

"Want me to call LaRosa and ask how it went with Carisi?" he offered, hoping that she'd gotten over her mild annoyance by then.

"No, it's fine," she smiled. "Thanks for offering, though. I'd better get back to the precinct and check on the investigation."

"Let me know if you need anything from me."

"Of course," she beamed. "Thanks."

The residual embarrassment from her sudden visit burned in the recesses of her belly all through her drive back to the precinct. What the hell had gotten into her of late? Their evenings in Forlini's weren't quite out of the ordinary - at least the "ordinary" from a few months back, before this whole debacle - but this; this wasn't like her, and she felt her cheeks flush with chagrin.

He'd been nothing but kind to her since the closure of the Ana Kapic case, and she couldn't stop her heart from fluttering a little every time he gave her that familiar, assuring smile; thinking about the way he so patiently navigated all these highs and lows at work with her.

And with Ed and the events of the spring getting further and further behind them, Olivia allowed herself to feel relieved - maybe even grateful - that she and Rafael had settled things this way. Sure, neither of them had anticipated or wanted quite this much pain along the way, but now in its place was an emotional intimacy that neither had quite expected.

It felt good.

She was having more of these moments lately; these little moments of joy, even when work sometimes felt like a train crash waiting to happen. She could get used to this.

Olivia marched into Rafael's office for the second time that week with a new mission - this time one of the professional sort (and she'd texted in advance to let him know she was coming), but her shaking legs were a clear sign that this work-related matter was unnerving her more than usual.

The highs and lows were starting to give her whiplash.

All morning Fin, Amanda and Carisi had taken turns convincing her that they couldn't go after shady impersonator Tom Metcalf even after they'd seen the tears of the desperate mothers trying to get their children into Hudson; that "rape by fraud" wasn't encoded in the law (Carisi); that "lying to have sex was just part of the game" (Fin); that the case was too grey even though Metcalf was disgusting (Amanda)...

Maybe they were right.

She was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the sense of defeat seeping into her chest, and the possibility of going to trial for rape grew more distant by the minute - maybe it was idealistic, naive. Words that people had been especially fond of calling her lately.

It was a long shot, Olivia knew, but maybe Rafael would hear her out instead of shutting her down immediately, and she wasn't going to give in until he told her to. He stared at his legal pad and took slow occasional sips from his coffee cup as she explained the details of the case to him, her anxiously studying his face as she did.

He hadn't interrupted her, not once, which seemed very uncharacteristic of him when it came to anything work-related, and she couldn't decide if that was a good or bad sign. Did he think this was a waste of time? Was he going to hear her out and then promptly shut her down?

Or maybe... was he actually on the same wavelength as her?

"I know this doesn't exist in the New York Criminal Code, but surely there's some kind of statute or theory that we can use to prosecute this kind of vile behaviour." she asserted, almost watching the wheels turn in his head.

Rafael was silent for a few seconds as he carefully mulled over the details of the case - the first thing that came to mind was a similar 1994 case with an outcome that didn't quite bode well for them, but the earnest, determined look on Olivia's face made him want to think harder. Something about this felt right - and now he had the choice to act on that gut feeling.

Idealistic, she was, but some idealism didn't hurt, especially when that idealism was always backed up by razor-sharp instincts.

Olivia leaned in and looked him in the eye with as much confidence as she could muster. "You may not think it's a good idea, but what this man is doing is abhorrent, Rafael. We have to send a message."

She waited in an expectant silence, just anticipating the harsh words he'd have - You're too idealistic, Liv. There's no point bringing this to trial. We have no case.

And so she was shocked when he looked up and nodded at her.

"Actually, I think it's a great idea," he responded with a thoughtful - but confident - look. "There have been rumblings about a new bill in the legislature. A case like this could kick-start things."

"You're actually serious?" she blurted out, too shocked to believe that he actually thought this was a great idea - not even good, but great. And hopefully he wasn't saying yes to her just to help her feel better after a tough few weeks.

"I am. If your victim is willing to testify. Can we prove that our repugnant ladies' man has done this more than once?"

"It certainly seems that way. He told Carisi that he's planning to write a book about his various conquests," she explained, a growing confidence now seeping into her voice.

He seemed more than satisfied. "Great. If we establish a consistent pattern, we can sway the jury."

"I'll go talk to the victim now. And we can keep digging if we get a warrant," she suggested.

"I'm on it. I'll call you when it's ready. In the meantime, I'll do a little research and think of how we can spin this for a jury."

Rafael opened his laptop and Olivia assumed that it was a cue for her to leave, but as she watched him hastily scrawl some notes on his legal pad, brows furrowed in concentration, she couldn't help the question that slipped out of her mouth.

"You really think we have a shot with this case?"

He looked up from his computer screen with a confused frown. "You're doubting my judgment now?"

It'd come out as more of a sarcastic, teasing quip than genuine question, but Olivia still shook her head firmly. "No… but you just agreed to this awfully quickly and I wasn't expecting that."

"Because it's a compelling case, and you convinced me. We'll have to make sure we're more prepared than ever, but I really do think it's worth pursuing," he said in between furious strokes of his pen.

"But why?" she pressed.

"It seems like you - and the rest of the squad, even - think that what Metcalf did is reprehensible. And he needs to be held accountable for that." He leaned back in his chair, his expression still cool and confident. "Even if this isn't a familiar, well-worn path to tread, we can be the first."

Maybe he really does believe we have a shot at this.

"What's the point of staying in our jobs if we're not going to challenge the boundaries once in a while?" Rafael mused.

For the second time that day, Olivia was shocked.

Of course she knew that she and Rafael worked well together; that he had her back when the going get tough, especially after the events of the last few weeks. But it was in this moment that she knew it - that she had someone who wanted the exact same things that she did. And after excavating her history with Elliot, she needed that more than she thought she did.

She had a true ally and fighter in Rafael Barba, and that confirmation made her heart flutter.

"Penny for your thoughts, Liv?"

His voice cut through the silence of the room and brought her back to reality. "I'm just… glad that you think that this case is worth a shot," she said appreciatively.

The assured look in his eyes steadied her. "You guys do your jobs, I'll do mine - hopefully we can nail this slimy bastard."

"You really want to go after this guy for rape," she reiterated, still somewhat in disbelief.

He broke into an amused frown. "You've asked me this three times, Liv. I'm pretty sure my answer has been the same each time. What's up?"

Thank God. He really wants to go after Metcalf. He'd actually been persuaded by her.

"It's fine. Just wanted to check. I'll call you once we get more we can work with."

It was difficult for her to hide her triumphant smile as she exited his office, feeling the most buoyant she had in a couple of weeks - a feeling that she didn't even think possible.

Sure, there were a million possible ways that this could go wrong - or worse, a judge could throw it out in seconds - but she'd worry about that a few days down the road. Right now, Rafael's confidence in this case - and her - was giving her the boost she needed to investigate the hell out of Tom Metcalf.

What's the point of staying in our jobs if we're not going to challenge the boundaries once in a while?

Those words were like a healing balm that told her that what she was doing was right; that they were two people of the same mind - and she felt the confidence that had taken such a beating of late slowly, but surely, seep back into her system.

Perhaps Rafael and Olivia had finally started falling back into a routine - hashing things out in one of their offices as they worked a case, meeting in the courthouse when it went to trial, taking stock of everything on the courthouse steps after the verdict was delivered, win or lose.

And most noticeably, they'd found themselves returning to Forlini's, a place once too fraught with emotion but now felt safe to return to, which was a godsend after a string of losses and dashed hopes.

This time, it was Olivia's turn to stroll into the restaurant and scan the room for a glimpse of Rafael. The bar was already packed and she couldn't help the disappointment she felt upon realising that their usual stools were occupied by other patrons, until, ten seconds away from turning around and leaving, she spotted him nestled in a corner booth, nursing a scotch and Caesar salad, the unresolved sore feelings from the Metcalf case heavy on his shoulders.

"Any reason you're not at the bar today?" she asked as she slid into the bench opposite him, although she had a very good guess as to why. It was just their luck that Judge Bertuccio had never been keen on the case from the beginning, and after an aggressive defense from the admittedly terrifying Nikki Staines, Rafael had no choice but to plea Metcalf out on a pathetic misdemeanour charge - one that both of them obviously hadn't been too happy about. The last place either of them wanted to be was at the bar, in full view of the rest of the restaurant, which counted numerous members of the legal community in its list of regulars.

"Needed a change of scenery," he remarked while picking at a lettuce leaf with his fork. "And… maybe, just maybe, hiding from Judge Bertuccio in case he comes in here," he admitted with some embarrassment.

"What did he say to you in chambers?" she asked.

"Basically that we're supposed to "enforce the laws that exist", not "the ones I think should exist", and that I risk having my pants pulled down in public or something to that effect. And no, I don't quite buy that either," he added, when he noticed Olivia's frustrated grimace. "Just our luck that Bertuccio got this case - we'd have stood a much better chance without him presiding."

Their mutual disappointment hung heavy over the table even hours after they'd confirmed the plea, and Olivia promptly ordered a glass of Cabernet, eager for her long-awaited respite from the day's events. "You gave it a great shot, Rafael. I'm sorry that he chewed you out like that. And… I'm sorry that I made you take this case."

Olivia looked across the table at his melancholic expression and felt guilt stab her heart once more. She'd been too idealistic and starry-eyed; she'd pushed this case on him, and now he was the one emerging from it decimated.

"Don't apologise, Liv," he said firmly. "No one made me do this. You brought me a compelling case, I decided to try him for rape, and it didn't stick this time. I could've said no from the get-go, but I didn't. That's all there is to it."

Words that she was relieved to hear, but didn't quite heal the sting of the whole ordeal. "I still wish that Bertuccio hadn't been so hard on you."

"Ah, that's just the way he is. Let's just hope that we don't get him again when we try another case like this."

She couldn't help the surprise that appeared on her face. "When we try another case like this? You'd give this another shot?" she asked with genuine astonishment.

He nodded confidently. "I would. It was worth it."

A part of her remained doubtful. "Even after what happened?"

"Why not? Don't get me wrong - I spent the whole afternoon sulking in my office after hearing what Bertuccio said in chambers, but I can tolerate his bullshit. I'm actually glad that I took this case. Got me thinking about some pretty big questions," he remarked contentedly. "And it seems like it got us some buzz, which is always good when we give this another shot eventually. Some idealism does pay off, after all," he added with a knowing glance, eyes finding hers over the top of his glass.

"What happened to only taking cases that got you the big wins?" she teased gently, recalling his (frankly annoying) showboating in his early days with their squad. The change had been gradual, but unmistakable - those days were now firmly behind him, and he busted out the theatrics only in the courtroom, where they were needed most - not on the courthouse steps.

"I guess you've rubbed off on me," he shrugged casually, although the way he looked directly at her, eyes burning with their usual intensity of feeling, said far more.

"I guess being politically un-savvy has its perks, after all."

He stared at her in mock exasperation. "You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?"

"Never, especially if it means that I get to hear you telling William Dodds to go fuck himself more often," she beamed.

His face lit up and he chuckled, which felt like music to Olivia's ears.

"I know you didn't get the outcome you wanted for this case, but your instincts were spot-on, Liv. Going after him was a good call."

"You have no idea how grateful I am to hear that. Or for everything you've said to me over the past couple of weeks, for that matter. Have I told you how good you are at finding the perfect thing to say in any situation?"

"I didn't have rich parents or a fancy prep school education to catapult me to Harvard, so something must've gotten me there," he smirked. "It's especially easy to find the words for you, though."

The look he gave her - so full of adoration and passion - made her tremble.

"Motion to strike the first half of what you just said," she retorted, which elicited more soft laughter from him.

Yup, we're alright, they both knew for sure.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Rafael polishing off the last of his salad, and Olivia quietly humming along to the 80s playlist in the background. So many evenings spent here with everyone in her squad - but she'd definitely spent the most evenings with him.

"This is becoming our thing, isn't it?" she remarked, leaning in across the table.

He instinctively followed suit, until their foreheads were almost touching and he could smell the Cabernet on her breath. "Hasn't it always been? We're just getting back into the swing of things."

His legs brushed against hers underneath the table, and the electricity that coursed through her instantly brought her back to that evening they shared in that cramped pasta restaurant; the walk they'd shared on the way back to his apartment… except that Ed was out of the picture now, and there was nothing stopping her from pressing her lips to his.

The look in his eyes was unmistakable.

He wanted this; he wanted her.

But as private as this corner booth was, Forlini's during the dinner rush was no place to take the next step in their relationship… and this was no time to take that step, anyway. Things between them were finally fully getting back to normal with this case, and they couldn't undo all their progress with one tipsy, impulsive kiss.

They pulled away almost in sync, Olivia awkwardly staring at her lap and Rafael fiddling with his cufflinks, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were to disturbing the delicate balance between them. Sure, things were looking up for them at work, but the enormity of the feelings between them was another story.

It was a balance they both knew they couldn't disturb - not yet, at least.

"Come on, let's get out of here so you can get home to Noah," he offered before the silence became uncomfortable.

"Of course," she said quickly as she reached for her jacket, and trailed him out of the restaurant and into the cool night air.

The silence that fell over them once more as they waited for their Ubers home made the air feel alive with possibilities. He felt her shiver slightly in the rapidly cooling night air and instinctively stepped closer to her, his arm lightly pressed against hers. She didn't flinch - and he could have sworn that she'd leaned in, ever-so-slightly, too, a teasing hint of what they could have, but had chosen not to act on.

Not yet.

Rafael snuck a furtive glance at the contented, peaceful smile on her face, and his burning desire to reach over and embrace her calmed instantly.

We're just getting back into the swing of things.

He didn't have to act now, because they could show up to work tomorrow safe in the knowledge that things were alright between them, just like they always had in the past.

They'd have to talk about this someday, but for now, they were content right where they were, basking in each other's company on this late summer's night.