here's the final chapter! thank you so much for following me on this wild ride - my new fic, Broken Compasses, is in progress now!
"Who's Ashtonja Abreu?"
Rafael froze.
Olivia knew about Ashtonja. How she knew, he didn't know, but there was one inescapable truth: there was no running away from the topic now.
The silence that hung heavy in the air was thick enough to make him choke. Rafael felt his palms turn clammy as drank in the sight of her, beads of sweat on her temple and breath short and fevered like she'd just sprinted here. For him. Her brown eyes, typically warm and affectionate, burned with a mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and hurt - and he hated that he was the one who'd put them there.
He knew exactly what effect Olivia had on him, especially when she looked at him that way, wordlessly imploring him to put down his armour and be the Rafael he was only with her: vulnerable. Honest. Raw.
And with that, the walls he'd spent the entire afternoon building crumbled.
The sense of purpose with which she barged into his apartment made it clear that she'd come with a mission on her hands. Rafael watched wordlessly as she promptly retrieved a glass for herself from his liquor cabinet - the same one she'd bought back when Felipe Heredio had ordered those hits on him - the ease with which she moved around his living room a jolt to his senses. So seamlessly had their lives intertwined over the last couple of months that it was like they'd been doing this for years, only for all that to feel like it was on the precipice of being robbed from both of them.
The three feet that separated them - her on his couch, him perched awkwardly on his armchair, both avoiding each other's gazes - felt like an ocean of distance. The hollow tick-tock of the clock on the wall suddenly felt deafening, as the weight of unspoken words grew increasingly oppressive by the second.
He was the first to give in. "Where's Noah?"
Anything to put this off for a moment longer.
"At Amanda's place," she replied brusquely. "He's staying the night there."
Olivia had come prepared. This wasn't a conversation they were going to start and then leave after an hour - she was prepared to stay all night if she had to.
(Provided that this discussion didn't go to complete and utter shit first.)
His eyes went straight to the carpet beneath him. Now he felt even worse about the extent of the mess that they'd both been dragged into. "Liv..." he protested feebly, "You really didn't have to do that…."
She quickly silenced him. "No, Rafael - I'm not leaving until we talk about this," she declared firmly. "Carisi and I talked to Ashtonja today and-"
"You talked to her?"
His jaw dropped. Olivia had talked to Ashtonja. How had they uncovered his secret so quickly?
"Yeah, and Willard talked to her too. He thinks that you're paying her for sex." She stared into her half-empty glass with a wince, as though it physically pained her to say those words.
Paying her for sex. Of course Willard had planted those seeds of doubt in Olivia's head as well - he'd learned the hard way that mind games were this bastard's M.O. But to actually hear those words come out of her mouth, her facade of strength only just starting to crack, stabbed Rafael's heart with a searing pain he'd never anticipated.
"I know." His tone was flat and expressionless; his eyes skillfully avoided hers, afraid of what he would see when he looked into them. "He told me."
He didn't want to know what Olivia thought of that allegation. No person deserved to hear that their partner was sleeping with a teenager - especially after she'd been told to her face not too long ago that Ed Tucker could be a sex trafficker. By Rafael.
It didn't matter that neither allegation was true. Two blows of this proportion in the span of a few months? God damn, it was cruel. And unfair.
The raw anger that seeped into her voice took him aback. "Right before you called off getting me those warrants? Blowing me off in front of the courthouse?"
Guilt instantly flooded Rafael's system - a pang of guilt so crushing that he couldn't lift his gaze to meet hers. He couldn't do this, sitting three feet away from her, the tension between them so thick that it felt like he was on fire. He got up from the sofa and paced the room, coming to a pause by his bay window. The city lights had never looked so distant or alienating; the mist of the light rain that'd settled over Manhattan gave the streets an eerie, hostile glow.
Rafael caught sight of Olivia's reflection in the window, the scotch glass she pressed to her lips barely masking the tears that now glistened. He'd seen Olivia cry far more times than the average person had, but it didn't dull the visceral pain he felt every time he saw the strength fade from her eyes - especially tonight. She was so many emotions all at once - hurt, anger, confusion. But one burned much stronger than the rest: fear.
How had they gotten here? How had they been so profoundly broken by David Willard that they couldn't even look each other in the eye when they needed each other most?
Why was he still afraid?
There was nowhere to run or hide. He was going to have to face this - face Olivia. He laced his fingers together nervously and steadied his shaking voice, the lump in his throat making every word feel thick and muffled.
"I shouldn't have talked to you like that, and I'm sorry."
That's a start, he thought to himself. However heated this discussion got - if it did - he knew that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't make that clear first.
"You deserve the truth - the real truth."
Much to his relief, Olivia's expression instantly softened and she set her glass on the table. "Talk to me, Rafael." She silently beckoned for him to sit next to her on the couch, but he couldn't bring himself to take that step - not yet.
Here goes nothing.
He'd spent the last few years burying this secret under the enormous weight of his work - Ashtonja's annual birthday and Christmas cards were safely tucked away in a drawer that Olivia and even his cleaning service didn't know existed, and the monthly bank transfers had become so routine that he'd stopped giving them a second thought.
It was time for that secret to emerge from the shadows.
"Of course, Willard got it wrong. I knew Ashtonja's mother, Marianna. She was a heroin addict. And she was a witness in a case against a guy who raped and killed two women - the only witness."
Olivia silently absorbed every word with bated breath.
Rafael ached as memories of that frantic morning flooded his mind for the first time in what felt like years - a day that he absolutely hated reliving. It was the reason he still couldn't bring himself to pass through Downtown Brooklyn and face the stone steps of the building where this had all started.
"On the day of the trial, she showed up so strung out she could barely talk. The judge wouldn't give me a recess. Marianna asked for a loan…"
"And you gave it to her," Olivia completed, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Yes."
"Knowing that she would buy heroin."
Every word she uttered brought them an inch closer to the truth, and he felt his breath turn shallow.
"Yes."
"And?"
"Marianna bought what she bought and she did what she did, and she got on the stand. She buried the guy. She sent a really bad man to prison for the rest of his life, and she died of an overdose, eight hours later, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter…"
Ashtonja. "Who you've been giving money to ever since."
Olivia felt half of the day's tension flee her system. It all made sense now. Of course David Willard had gotten it wrong. Of course Rafael Barba wasn't the man Willard thought he was; the version that he'd tried to poison Olivia's mind with. Of course there was a perfectly plausible explanation for that day's events.
Suddenly, she felt stupid for ever doubting him. Olivia reached for the glass on the table and took a sip, letting the amber liquid burn the back of her throat, as though punishing her for daring to even consider that train of thought.
"It's just her and her grandmother. They're broke. I help out. Willard must've hacked my bank account, tracked down Ashtonja."
That was the furthest possible thing from paying a teenager for sex; he was helping a family in need. But the relief that came with that revelation wasn't quite enough to stop Olivia from feeling like she'd just been doused in ice-cold water.
Fuck David Willard and his vendetta. She'd let herself be poisoned by him. She'd let him plant seeds of doubt in her head.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she asked sadly, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer. The case. Of course he'd never want to compromise the case.
"I didn't want to compromise your case. You might've been accused of having a vendetta against Willard…"
"I can still be accused of that," she retorted. "And knowing Willard, he's going to make the case all about that and try to wiggle his way out of the murder charge."
"He knows about us, Liv. I didn't want him to get to you too," he insisted quietly, his gaze still not meeting hers. "He can go after me all he wants - but I have to leave you out of this."
"It's too late, Rafael," she remarked defeatedly.
Shit, he cursed under his breath. "What do you mean?"
"After we got the warrant to search his office, Willard taunted me about us in front of Fin, Amanda and Carisi…"
Okay, at least he didn't go straight to Jack McCoy, Rafael thought, although he quickly dropped that thought when Olivia opened her mouth to finish the rest of that sentence.
"How do you think we found out about Ashtonja? He told me to watch out for who else you're sleeping with. Told me that you like young blood. We found her number on a burner cell he tossed..."
She shuddered as though Willard was standing right in front of her - the menacing way that he'd leaned in, the way his voice had dipped when he'd made that comment… and worst of all, the smug confidence with which he'd taunted her were still fresh in her memory. She'd been called a bitch, a whore, a witch and other colourful names by countless perps over the years - but none of those insults had been as deeply personal as the ones that she'd heard that afternoon, and none had cut as deeply.
"Fuck," he cursed, bitter hatred inundating his voice. That was how Olivia had heard about Ashtonja - the worst possible way. He didn't want to imagine the tense few hours she'd had between finding that burner cell and sitting here. "You shouldn't have had to hear that."
How dare Willard insinuate that about me. An upstanding ADA with an outstanding conviction rate and strong participation in sexual violence legislation, being accused of paying a teenager for sex? He couldn't wait for the smug bastard to finally get arraigned and a chance to watch him squirm in court… until he looked across the room at Olivia and realised that this was far from being just about him. There was no better way to describe her than exhausted - frown lines framing her forehead, shoulders slumped, listless stare at the carpet beneath her feet. He didn't have to ask her to know that it'd been one hellish day: the courthouse, hunting for warrants, Willard, Ashtonja, here… and his blood boiled for her. For both of them.
The nerve of Willard to get under Olivia's skin, too.
What had run through Olivia's head when Willard approached her? Had she believed - whether for just a second, or the whole afternoon - that Rafael was capable of doing something so twisted, so wicked?
"Did you believe him?"
The question escaped his lips before he could stop himself, and he almost wished that he hadn't asked it. Was this the extent of Willard's power over them; so noxious that it'd created a wedge that they'd never be able to patch?
Of course I didn't, she wanted to say, but that was an outright lie.
Willard had gotten to her - enough that he'd been able to plant those seeds of doubt in her head. It was exactly what he'd wanted, and he'd succeeded in his mission. A wave of self-hatred ripped through her as she recalled the anxious car ride to the Bronx, her hands trembling so much that she'd clutched the seat belt for dear life as Sonny sped uptown. The sheer fury of the situation had died down after she and Carisi had successfully coaxed an explanation out of the clearly confused teenager and heard from her in no uncertain terms that no, Rafael Barba isn't paying me for sex, only to be replaced by guilt - the same guilt that'd burned all through her frantic subway ride to his apartment.
How could she ever have doubted him, after how hard they'd fought for what they had? He was better than this; she was better than this. And she'd still let Willard win, even if for just a few hours.
His voice jolted her back to reality.
"You believe me, don't you?"
He turned to look her directly in the eye for the first time since she'd stood at his door, begging for her honesty - her trust. The crushing weight of the day's events hung heavy on her shoulders once more: the sadness in his eyes as he'd walked away from her outside the courthouse, Willard's voice echoing in her ears as he'd made that threat, that hazy car ride to Ashtonja's apartment complex… The worry that'd long planted its seeds in her chest raged in full force, a parasitic demon threatening to undo all that they'd fought for.
But this was now.
That gulf was behind them; they'd cleared the air. She could let Willard continue to hold power over her, or choose to look into Rafael's eyes right now and let she'd always known about him prevail.
No, Willard hasn't won yet, she realised with a growing resolve. He'd tried - and done one heck of a job at it - but this was their last line of defence, and she wasn't going to fall. She could spend even more time wallowing in her own guilt, or devote everything she had to helping him - them - navigate out of this situation.
She had a choice to trust him, just like he'd chosen to take a chance on her even after all the wrong she'd done to Ed.
And with that, the answer was as clear as day.
"I believe you."
How could she not?
As those three words rolled off her tongue, the air in the room suddenly felt much less suffocating. Rafael's eyes watered with a mix of relief and adoration, the burden of this enormous secret finally relieved. She believed him, and that was knowledge more powerful than any retribution against Willard could ever be. He didn't know how he deserved her, but here she was, sitting on his couch, having run to his apartment at this hour to get to the bottom of this - and he wasn't going to let her go. Her arms finally found his as he closed the ocean of distance between them, her touch a healing balm.
He could be honest with her. He always could.
"You know what the worst thing about this is?" The hardened edge to his voice disappeared.
"Mmm?" Her fingers danced across his collarbone.
"The uncertainty," he said with a lump in his throat. "Not knowing what he's going to do next… or what else he's already done." Even the comforting warmth of Olivia's skin against his couldn't stop a new wave of anxiety from shooting up his gullet.
"I know he's a slimy bastard, Rafael, but there are plenty of people who'll stand up for you and your character. Myself included."
"Doesn't stop me from wondering when the hell he's going to stop, though."
"I know."
"And I thought hiding from Heredio in that hotel room on the DA's office's dime was bad enough. Never thought I'd want to go back to afternoons of furiously playing Candy Crush and watching reruns of Barefoot Contessa."
"Even though I brought you food and alcohol?" she teased gently.
A small smile re-appeared on his face thinking of her deliveries - much-needed surprises for those seemingly endless days. "Well, that helped."
"That, and the fact that we made out on the bed," she added with a dry chuckle.
As those words tumbled out of her mouth, Olivia suddenly flinched, wondering if that was a joke too hazardous for him, but thankfully, his wistful smile didn't disappear. The momentary shame that struck him had nothing on the electricity that coursed through him once more as he recalled the exact moment their lips touched, his hands gingerly cupping her face and wiping away the tears she shed for Mike Dodds.
Up till that point their relationship had been all debauchery and heat - two people crashing onto his bed because they couldn't hold back any longer. But the warm intimacy of that evening in his hotel room was only a sign of things to come, including what they had now: basking in the serenity of his living room, her fingers in his hair and his head resting on her shoulder and their emotional walls completely fallen.
This was where they were destined to be, even if it took months of twists and turns to get there - and that was something David Willard would never take from him.
"That really helped," he laughed, still intoxicated from the memory of their lips pressed to one another's. "Although you make it sound like we were horny teenagers on prom night."
"It was nice, though."
"It was nice. You made that week in captivity a whole lot better, you know," he added sincerely.
"And you made that terrible week a whole lot better for me." Over time the melancholy of that week had faded, but one memory had never left - the kind, empathetic green eyes that now were her stabilising force in a city that seemed to trip her up at every turn.
"We've come a long way since then, haven't we?" He smiled wistfully and stared up into her azure brown eyes, allowing himself to forget about Willard, even for just a few blissful seconds.
"God, it actually doesn't feel like that long ago." She counted the months in her head - had it really been less than half a year since that week? The smell of blood in the hospital hallway, Amazing Grace on the organ in a chapel full of people dressed in black… but above all that, the arms that'd caught her when she fell.
"We've had one heck of a year. All these monstrous cases, one after the other… Brooklyn SVU honestly did not prepare me for this. I mean, we even appeared on Heart's Desire, for God's sake. And here's the season finale to my career - blackmail."
She took his hand reassuringly. "We don't know that it's the season finale, Rafael."
"To think that this could be what completely torpedoes twenty years of hard work."
"I know it won't be," she said confidently. "Not if I can help it."
Her assertiveness steadied him. "Thank you. For being here."
"Always."
Even though the adrenaline and stress from the day still hadn't quite left his system, this was the most comfortable he'd felt in hours. He allowed himself to relax into her warmth, the rhythmic tapping of the light rain against his window suddenly far more comforting than it'd been earlier.
Olivia sighed contentedly as the room fell into a comfortable, restful silence. There was no screaming match, no tearful confession - possibilities she'd allowed to fester in her head in her lowest moments that day. In this thoroughly fucked up situation, they still had each other, and her grip on his hand instinctively tightened as she contemplated their next move.
Our next move.
Anxiety pooled in her stomach once more as the growing realisation that they were going to have to do something about this eventually took over. This is only the beginning, she sighed quietly, the hint of apprehension that remained in his facial expression a glaring reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand. It pained her to break the now-comfortable silence, but she had to rip the Band-Aid.
"How bad is this gonna be for you?"
"It depends on what Jack has to say. He knows about Ashtonja. I had to tell him before Willard did that himself." Rafael eyed his phone on the armrest, now unusually silent, and let out a pensive sigh. "He hasn't contacted me. He's probably deciding whether I'm still going to have a job by the end of the week - or calling the Brooklyn DA to have me written up for witness tampering."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Don't say that, Rafael."
The sadness in his voice was a stab to her heart. "We don't know what Willard's done to stir the pot. For all we know, he could have sent Jack a massive Zip file of everything he's dug up on me - or us. I have to be prepared for the possibilities."
She forced herself not to contemplate those possibilities - especially not now, when it already felt like too many things were spiralling out of control.
"Jack's always been fond of you; you were just trying to help someone in need," she reasoned. "I saw the LaGuardia High papers on her dining room table… Ashtonja's a talented kid. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and I'm sure you had no small part to play in that."
"Jack's not going to care that I paid for Ashtonja's acting lessons, Liv," he replied defeatedly. "The ends don't justify the means. I never should have given Marianna that loan. And I used that conviction as leverage to get the transfer to Manhattan. He has every reason to come down on me - hard."
It was the painful truth - one that even Olivia had no way of softening the blow of.
"We might've seen our last case together," he declared with a heavy, pensive sigh.
Her ears rang with panic. "I can put a good word in with Jack…"
"No, Liv," he interjected immediately. "Don't stick your neck out for me."
"But-"
"I can't run from this. I have to face the music."
The determination in his voice didn't obscure the lingering fear in his eyes, but there was no other option. It was the right thing to do, and they both knew it.
She burrowed her head in his shoulder and leaned in closer, allowing the familiar woodsy scent of his Terre D'Hermes to flood her senses. He'd been her pillar of strength all through the loss and mourning of the summer; now it was her turn.
"Is there anything I can do?" she offered, vigour creeping back into her voice.
He looked her directly in the eye, never letting her go from his embrace. "What you always do. Nail that son-of-a-bitch."
The knowing look they exchanged was the fuel she needed to bury that bastard, once and for all. There was bound to be something that they hadn't yet uncovered; a tiny loophole somewhere that they could slip through - and she wasn't going to let a single one pass her by.
So what if Jack McCoy found out about their relationship? So what if Willard had tricks up his sleeve that they didn't even know about yet? She was ready for whatever came next - and she wasn't going to let her fear win.
She had to make things right: for him; for them.
"This was an accident, not murder."
Olivia couldn't resist rolling her eyes from the gallery, but there still was a lot to be grateful for. This was exactly where they wanted to see Willard: in a courtroom being arraigned. TARU had given them the breakthrough they needed (thank God for the technician who'd noticed the smart TV), and she knew that she'd never forget the smug grin she wore as she marched to Attention Inc. to arrest the prick.
Judge Wright didn't spare an ounce of patience for the man standing before her. "Save it for your trial, Mr Willard. Bail?"
"Mr Willard is a respected businessman, tied to the community…"
She barely suppressed her disgust. "And charged with murder. A million dollars, cash or bond. Next case."
The satisfying bang of Judge Wright's gavel sealed Willard's fate.
Olivia turned to look at Rafael, who'd been watching from the bench behind hers - a seat he rarely occupied in the courtroom. We got him, she mouthed, the light quickly returning to her eyes.
His relieved smile said it all. They'd finally figured out how to end his reign of terror.
"You believed me," Jennifer's sister, Laura, exclaimed gratefully as she enveloped Olivia in a hug - something Rafael almost did on impulse. "You got him."
And you believed me too. Rafael's gaze met Olivia's.
"We got him," Olivia affirmed proudly. "It's over."
Rafael watched as the court officers hauled an incredulous Willard away, an indignant scowl now plastered on his face, and felt like he could breathe for the first time since he'd received that fateful phone call. All the surveillance, the mind games, the threats… It was high time that Willard faced the music.
Until Willard turned around for one last eviscerating look at the people who'd led him to his fate, and his eyes, charged with hatred and fury, met Rafael's, and he felt himself wither once more. It was a sobering reminder that this nightmare wasn't truly over - not until he'd faced the music himself.
As he and Olivia stood in the hallway, watching a relieved Laura step back out into the crowded city streets with a newfound spring in her step, Rafael's face fell as he accepted a call from the one person he'd been dreading hearing from.
"It's Jack," he declared, his fingers hovering nervously over the "Accept Call" button.
If they weren't in the thick of a crowd, she would've taken his hand - or even him in her arms - without a second of hesitation. Instead, her hand briefly brushed over the small of his back reassuringly as he listened intently to his boss, the furrow of his brows a sign that whatever he'd called about couldn't be good.
She forced herself to stay calm for him. "So… what did he say?"
"Jack wants to see me at 2." This was a meeting, not a death sentence, but it still felt that way, and Rafael felt his pulse accelerate.
Willard had seen his downfall, but Rafael's fate still hung in the balance, and the possibilities raced through his mind. Censure? Suspension? Or God forbid, charges of witness tampering? ADAs had been fired for much, much less, and Jack's stern, business-like tone did nothing to reassure him that he was still going to have a job by the end of the day. He anxiously looked to Olivia, whose worried frown told him that she was worried about the exact same thing.
But she forced herself not to dwell on it any longer, and quickly straightened and glanced at her watch. "It's still early. Let's get something to eat?" she suggested gently, her hand still on the small of his back - a small action that spoke volumes. "I know you're worried, but I'm sure food - and a distraction - will help."
Of course she knew exactly what he needed, and on a day like this, anything that wasn't sitting alone in his office with a racing mind would suffice. Rafael nodded and she led them out the doors of 60 Centre Street, her strides quick and purposeful and steadying him in a way he didn't realise he needed.
"We could go to Forlini's, try something in the Village, or drive uptown for some Italian…"
He snuck a final, furtive glance at the imposing stone building behind him as they walked away, which sent a new wave of anxiety rippling up his gullet.
Three hours.
Hopefully, it wasn't his last time leaving the building as an ADA.
Olivia had definitely made up her mind not to bring up the elephant in the room over lunch, because she'd deftly avoided the topic - something that he sorely needed. They'd settled into their usual corner booth at Forlini's, Anthony visibly relieved to see them again after a prolonged absence, and ordered their usual (sans scotch - he couldn't risk showing up to the meeting of his life with alcohol in his system) - a routine that made things feel the most normal they'd been in days.
He could still vividly remember the last time they'd been here together, their knees grazing under the table and faces so close that he could feel her warm, alcohol-tinged breath caressing his skin like they'd been the only ones there. There was less laughter this time and the faraway, troubled looks on their faces never quite left them as they idly chatted about Noah's new fascination with Paw Patrol and Fin and Munch's best one-liners (of which Olivia had a treasure trove), but it was enough to help get his mind off the reckoning that awaited him.
Almost.
He shifted uncomfortably in the leather cushion of the booth seat as Olivia made small talk with Anthony behind the bar, wondering if he'd ever feel comfortable enough to show his face in here - a favourite of cops and lawyers - again if Jack really did fire him that afternoon. Heck, was he going to feel comfortable showing his face anywhere in this city?
ADA Rafael Barba terminated by Manhattan DA's Office for witness tampering. He could just see that headline in the Times now, and it made him shudder.
Rafael bit his lip and ignored his growing headache as Olivia slid back into the seat opposite him, wine glass topped up and calm, reassuring smile masking what must've been a whirlpool of emotion brewing under that unshakeable facade. God, he had no clue how she'd kept it together all through their meal, but the sheer tenacity in her eyes stirred something in him.
He didn't know how much Jack McCoy knew; if Willard had sent him all the evidence he needed to end Rafael's career. Had Jack been tipped off about his and Olivia's relationship? Was this something that Rafael would have to elucidate in graphic detail to his very disgruntled boss? Where was he even going to start - and God forbid, what if the mess with Ed Tucker resurfaced somehow? Those events now felt like ancient history, albeit ancient history that still made him flinch recalling it.
Olivia was distracted by an old episode of The Office that Anthony had put on specially for the lunch crowd, and her exuberant laughter echoed through the restaurant, briefly taking Rafael out of his sombre mood to focus on her: just how radiant and luminescent she was. It was the same laughter he'd enjoyed behind the closed doors of her office or safety of her apartment, and it dawned upon him that he wanted more. He wanted to hold her hand in public without feeling like he had to let go immediately; to laugh like that, so uninhibited and joyous, everyone knowing that she was the one who'd put that smile on his face.
His lips curled into a grin watching her - the first real smile he'd been able to crack in the last couple of days. And as the credits rolled and she turned her attention to Rafael once more, excitedly telling him that they absolutely needed to watch the rest of the show on their next off day, one thing became blindingly clear to him.
The uncertain future that lay ahead of him had nothing on what he had with Olivia.
Here he was, about to face the biggest trial in his professional career, and she'd never left his side, not even checking her phone to make sure things were fine at the precinct. She'd pulled out all the stops to make him feel at ease; to make sure that he didn't feel alone for a second.
And maybe, if Jack didn't already know about them, it was time to tell him.
Olivia's hand gripped his under the table and he pressed his palm against hers with a quiet smile, feeling a fraction of her strength seep into his system as the clock ticked relentlessly towards 2pm. She was certainty; she was safety. No matter the outcome when he emerged from that office later that afternoon, he didn't have to ask her to know that she'd be waiting for him right where she'd left him.
But even that sense of security couldn't drown out the fear that accumulated in the pit of his stomach as they strolled out of the restaurant and 1 Hogan Place came back into view.
"Rita just texted me. Willard's attorney's already scrambling to make a deal." He tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jacket, not wanting another grim, albeit well-intentioned update from Rita.
Olivia's "police mode" took over instantly. "Look, unless he pleads to murder, I say try the case."
"Me too, but I have no input," he pointed out defeatedly, legs feeling they were going to give way under him. "I'm off the case."
They came to a pause by the entrance, the familiar brass doors suddenly ten times more imposing, and Rafael felt his breath catch in his throat.
He glanced at his watch. 1.55pm. Five minutes until his fate was decided.
"I'm so sorry about all of this, Rafael," Olivia said to him apologetically, the smile from earlier disappearing and eyes suddenly red and stinging.
The enormity of the past few months came crashing down on them in an instant, starting from the frenzied morning they'd woken up side-by-side; the panicked glances they'd exchanged while frantically dressing over his bed. Rafael's eyes met hers as he processed the roller-coaster of emotion, the vulnerability in them taking him back to that summer of unshed tears and trapped emotions, and the seemingly endless weeks of difficult cases. Nothing could ever have prepared him for all the trials and tribulations they'd faced in the last few months alone.
Felipe Heredio. Gary Munson. Ed Tucker. David Willard. And now Ashtonja Abreu. There were too many names, and far too much loss and heartbreak.
So much had happened between them, but in spite of it all, one thing rang true.
"What I did was wrong, but I'd do it all again. Not everything done in the dark is shameful."
Ashtonja. Olivia. Two things that'd started in the shadows.
But they also were the two things that'd made him the proudest - helping an innocent teenager carve out a good life for herself; loving the one person he could trust his life with. They far outshone all the painful memories. He'd found silver linings in the messes; he'd not let his shame win. He regretted nothing.
Especially not the woman standing before him, her eyes glistening with tears but refusing to let them fall - because she knew how to fight like hell for him. She knew how to fight like hell for them.
Olivia's hand lightly grazed his, cautious as ever in front of so many people who definitely would recognise them, but the conviction that flooded him from that brief touch alone more than spoke for itself. You've got this, she mouthed reassuringly.
Her eyes ached with longing - longing to take him in her arms and press her lips to his - but she held back.
1.57pm. Three minutes more. He could just picture Jack sitting behind his desk, his typically sagacious smile giving way to a disapproving frown the instant Rafael walked through the door, and felt his hair stand on end. Nothing would stop him from being scared as fuck of what awaited him behind those doors, but one look at Olivia and he could find all the resolve he needed.
How badly he wanted to take her in his arms and press his lips to hers - but he held back.
Rafael steeled himself as much as he could and took three tentative steps toward the entrance, feeling Olivia's apprehensive, penetrating gaze follow him into the building. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, conscious of how quickly the seconds were ticking away, but something was missing, and he couldn't quite put a finger on it.
He pressed his hand to the door handle, and it was only then that he knew exactly what it was.
"You know what? Fuck it."
A blinding clarity washed over him as he turned around and walked back towards a stunned Olivia, his green eyes now burning with conviction. He suddenly was impervious to the thick crowd surrounding them - all he could see and think about was her, his beacon of light and pillar of support.
What else did he have to lose, when he had all he needed, standing right here in front of him? What else was keeping him from doing what he'd always longed to do?
With one final deep breath, he took her in his arms and kissed her, the pent-up desire of the last few months flooding into his embrace like rain in an Indian summer.
"I love you, Olivia," he whispered tenderly, as though they were the only ones standing in the middle of that street.
The way her name rolled off this tongue gave her goosebumps. "I love you too, Rafael."
She pressed her lips to his one more time, letting his touch electrify her to the core, and watched as he disappeared into the building behind them, with a courage in his step that assured her that things were going to be okay somehow.
"I must say that I'm very disappointed in your conduct, Rafael."
The grey-haired District Attorney stared disapprovingly at Rafael, who shrunk into his seat as though Jack's gaze had physical weight. This was the principal's office visit of his childhood nightmares, except that he was closing in on 50 and facing far more dire consequences than an afternoon in detention or call to his mother.
"But I'm glad that we're not looking at any criminal charges here."
Rafael heaved a quiet sigh of relief. No criminal charges. Jack wasn't going to have the Brooklyn DA charge him with witness tampering - just one of the gamut of fears he had going into this meeting. Now he just had to hope that nothing even worse was in store.
"That being said, however…" Jack paused contemplatively, which caused Rafael's pulse to accelerate wildly, "I can't let this slide without consequence. I've consulted with the disciplinary committee about this, and although this is your first offence... we've decided that you will be suspended for one month without pay, with this also going on your permanent record."
Suspended. Permanent record.
It took a few seconds to sink in. Better than being disbarred or fired, definitely - but it still was a black mark on his record, which effectively killed his chances at becoming a judge, and he had no clue what the fuck to do for a month while he waited this out. Now he wanted to get the hell out of this building.
"Thank you, Jack," he managed uneasily, his throat suddenly parched and painful. "Thank you."
Rafael was two seconds away from springing out of his seat to leave, eager to free himself of Jack's punishing gaze before he felt himself wither away any further, but the DA motioned for him to remain seated.
"Anything else, Rafael?"
Rafael's mouth suddenly felt dry. He could give a cursory answer to this meeting formality and flee from this office before he combusted, but the way Jack's eyes were boring into his soul made him freeze in his seat. It was an invitation to get one more thing off his chest - one thing he'd planned on admitting to only if push came to shove, but suddenly weighed on his mind with ten times more force.
Did he want to accept that invitation? Was he ready for this?
His mind quickly wandered to Olivia, who was probably sitting in her parked car nearby with a coffee in hand and anxiously counting the minutes until he re-emerged from the building. He could almost feel her lips pressed to his, every touch flooding his body with electricity; he heard her laughter, crystal-clear and high-spirited. He pictured her brown eyes, resolute and hopeful and urging him to do the right thing.
There still was room to turn back. He could tuck their relationship into a neat box to be opened only behind closed doors, continuing what they'd enjoyed for the last couple of months. He could pretend that nothing between them had ever happened and that they were just two colleagues - friends - whose relationship never transcended the clearly-marked bounds of the squad room or courtroom. He could let the shame of the first night they spent together continue to cast a cloud over them.
But that kiss they'd shared right outside this very building, so heated and impulsive yet so right, was enough to make him jettison all those excuses. God damn, he wanted Olivia Benson; he wanted all of her, not just behind closed doors. He wanted to stop hiding in the shadows with her.
And the decision was easy.
It was time to bring this - Olivia - into the light.
Olivia waited for Rafael by the back exit of 1 Hogan Place, eyes peeled to the door until he re-emerged looking thoroughly enervated, his typically intense gaze replaced with an exhausted, vacant stare. Shit, she cursed to herself as he climbed into the passenger seat - it doesn't look good. Fired? Disbarred?
The seconds that elapsed between him exiting the building and climbing into her front seat felt like an eternity. "One month suspension without pay. Permanent record," he muttered quickly as she started the car, his tone flat and resigned.
Thank God, she thought, although that relief quickly soured when she caught sight of his downtrodden expression. Suspension was better than being disbarred or fired or censured a la Casey Novak back in the day, of course, but it happened to be Rafael's first and only disciplinary offence, and nothing was going to stop that from stinging. There were bound to be long-term consequences, including the permanent mark on his spotless record and all too likely derailment of his journey to judgeship, but they now had a whole month to fret about what came next.
Right now, all she wanted to focus on was him.
"Come on, let's get you home," she offered, and took off in the direction of the Upper East Side, the rumble of thunder in the distance a sign of an impending storm.
They paused at a stoplight and Olivia turned to him worriedly, her brows furrowed with concern. What happened in there? she wanted to ask, although one look at his listless manner was enough to tell her that he wasn't in the mood for talking - at least not now.
But even as the sombre mood settled over them and raindrops started pelting the windscreen, Olivia heaved a quiet sigh of relief realising that the worst was over. All they had left to do was pick up the pieces.
Pathetic fallacy - the attribution of human feelings and responses to inanimate things or animals, especially in art and literature, Rafael recited in his head like clockwork as the sound of thunder ripped through the air. Their drenched jackets hung on the coat rack by the door, leaving a puddle of rainwater so large that it turned his usually spotless floor into a damp, soggy mess, but he couldn't find the energy to get his Swiffer out.
He'd take a summer of languid, muggy days, his stomach clenched with longing and restless anticipation, over the torrent of rain that now blanketed the city, streaks of water relentlessly streaming down his window. The sky had a way of opening up and rubbing in his sadness on the worst days of his life: Botching the William Lewis trial. Felipe Heredio. And now this. Suspension.
Olivia had insisted on turning the TV on for some white noise to kill the suffocating silence, and Rafael stared listlessly at the promo for some new HBO show starring Reese Witherspoon, his mind impervious to anything on the screen. He'd never been one to care much for TV - it wasn't like he ever had time to watch a full series.
Except for the next month, which probably was enough time to watch The Office - all 201 episodes - at least twice over. Was that his destiny now?
Across the room, Olivia stood alone in the middle of his kitchen, one eye on Rafael in the living room and the other searching his fridge and cabinets for something she could make for dinner. Takeout was going to be disgusting in this weather, but even with that on her mind, takeout felt far too impersonal, especially not on a day like this. She could practically feel the pain and defeat emanating from him, even from her vantage point, and it wasn't something that UberEats was going to solve. She wanted to be the one to soothe his pain.
Pasta. That was easy enough to make. Olivia instinctively flung open a cabinet and was delighted to find that she'd correctly remembered where he stored the pasta.
She couldn't help but smile to herself. This apartment was feeling more like home by the minute.
As she stood over his stove, her extremely limited cooking skills suddenly feeling like a lifeline, Olivia's stomach clenched every time she caught sight of him slumped in his seat, but the sense of responsibility that'd washed over her from the moment he'd gotten that call from Jack McCoy that morning anchored her. He'd let her lean on him unfailingly for the last few months, and now it was her turn to be his safety net.
By the time Olivia emerged from the kitchen with two plates of pasta in hand, he was sprawled out on the couch, hair tousled as though he'd been running his fingers through it and shirt now wrinkled and unkempt.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with myself for the next month."
She set the pasta on the coffee table in front of them, although she sensed that Rafael wasn't going to have much of an appetite. It was the first sentence he'd uttered to her since they'd stepped into his apartment, and the sound of his voice sent a chill down her spine. "You don't have to have everything figured out now, Rafael. You deserve a break too."
Olivia took him into his arms and felt him relax instantly when he leaned into her and felt her lips caress his forehead. "Still… the thought of waking up tomorrow with nothing to do scares the fuck out of me."
"Well, Amanda just offered to take Noah tonight and the whole of tomorrow, so I can take a day off and spend the day with you," Olivia offered cautiously. "Only if that's what you want, though."
The rational part of him was telling her to head back to work where she surely was needed and would be useful, but the thought of waking up alone and wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the day proved too fearsome a possibility, and he let his vulnerability take over.
He didn't want to fight any longer; he just wanted to fall into her.
"You know what? I'd actually really like that," he admitted. The Rafael of a year ago would have baulked at the idea, but things were profoundly different now. He could fall into her, knowing that she'd be there to catch him, and a profound calm washed over him realising that these arms - the arms that'd he longed to fall into for years now - were the ones that were always there for him, stalwart and steadfast.
"Great," she beamed. Olivia glanced at Rafael's imposing media closet and was certain it had far more titles than just Dirty Dancing - at least he had plenty of mindless entertainment to keep him occupied and hopefully out of a full-blown slump. "Maybe we can finally watch all the 80s movies you've insisted I see."
Even though exhaustion had crept into every fibre of his being, the bell-like laughter that'd echoed in the air at Forlini's that afternoon suddenly filled his mind once more, and he couldn't resist breaking into a smile. Sure, he didn't have work to look forward to, but at least he had this.
He had her.
"How are you feeling now?" she asked, as she propped her feet up on the couch next to him between mouthfuls of pasta.
He shovelled a forkful of pasta into his mouth - it was delicious, although melancholy was never a good frame of mind for eating - and frowned. "Honestly? I don't know, Liv. I feel like I should be celebrating the fact that I didn't get fired or disbarred… but I can't. This Willard debacle has sucked the life out of me."
"Do you want to talk about what happened during the meeting?"
Olivia told herself that she'd be fine with whatever answer he gave to that question - maybe he just really didn't want to discuss it today. She'd accept it and eat her pasta like there wasn't this looming elephant in the room. But the more she'd snuck glances at him in the living room from her vantage point in the kitchen, and now sitting with their legs tangled and feeling the full brunt of his exhaustion, the more she realised that she couldn't not find out.
Rafael picked at his food with his fork, wishing that he had more of an appetite to savour her cooking. "Jack was furious about Ashtonja," he mumbled between bites. "He read me the Riot Act and I don't think I've seen him this angry in a long time. To his credit, though, he didn't beat around the bush before ripping off that Band-Aid."
Olivia nodded sympathetically. "You have every right to be upset. Even if you weren't fired or disbarred."
"Suspension," he mouthed to himself as though he had trouble comprehending the word. "Twenty years without a single mark on my record and now this. How the mighty have fallen."
"But you'll be right back in your office at the end of the month," she added reassuringly. "And in my squad room."
He immediately straightened in his seat. Olivia's squad room. That reminded him that he still had one more extremely important thing to tell her.
The suddenness with which Rafael put his plate down and turned to look Olivia in the eye took her by surprise. "There's… one more thing that happened during the meeting."
Panic seized her once more. Surely Jack hadn't inflicted something even more punitive on him? "Oh no. What?"
He took a deep breath and forced himself to get right to the point. "I decided to tell Jack about our relationship."
Eight words that they both knew would change everything.
"He asked about us?" she asked nervously. If he'd found out through Willard, it couldn't be good - surely Willard had seen all of their text messages and emails, including those of a distinctly personal nature.
Rafael shook his head resolutely. "No - I told him myself."
Her own cooking suddenly felt tasteless in her mouth. "What did he say about it?"
"Very happy to learn of a new issue right after chewing me out… but surprisingly alright with it. You know Jack's own track record with dating coworkers is far from spotless. But he's going to have to tell Dodds about it."
"Dodds." Her stomach clenched. "Don't even get me started on him."
"If Jack's fine with it, hopefully Dodds will be too," he quickly suggested.
"I guess I'll expect a call from him soon," she muttered, as she ran her hand over her phone in the pocket of her slacks. Now she wished she could bury it under one of the sofa cushions - or fling it across the room.
"Are you alright with it? With me telling Jack?" Rafael blurted out anxiously as he waited for Olivia's expression to change. Had he misread her? Had he jumped the gun? "I mean, I just thought with all that's been happening, I don't want to hide what we have any longer and-"
Olivia felt as though her tongue was lodged in her throat. Was she alright with it? Was she ready to face a potentially furious William Dodds and bury herself in disclosure paperwork and-
Rafael's expectant expression and presence inches away from her on the couch instantly brought her back to reality. Of course she knew exactly how she felt about it.
"Don't worry, I'm alright with it."
As those words slipped out of her mouth, they suddenly felt manifestly inadequate. No, she wasn't alright with it. He'd mustered the courage to look Jack McCoy in the eye, right after getting the lecture of a lifetime, and told him in no uncertain terms that they were in a relationship.
I decided to tell Jack about our relationship.
Those eight words stirred a far bigger reaction in her than just feeling "alright".
"No - actually… I'm glad you did it."
Her lips curled into a contented smile. The weight that disappeared from her shoulders in that instant only confirmed how much she'd been waiting for this; waiting for the day that they wouldn't have to wait until they were behind closed doors to savour what they had. Finally, things had emerged into the light.
Rafael heaved a sigh of relief and gently squeezed her arm. "I just thought that it was time. So we don't have to hide this - us - anymore."
The pride with which he declared that made her heart swell - and caused a tear to glisten in her eye, to which concern flooded his face. "Shit. What's wrong?" He immediately tightened his embrace around her.
"Nothing's wrong," she beamed. "Just… I'm sure you know what happened with David Haden back in the day…" Her voice trailed off.
"Him deciding to pretend like you two never existed instead of growing a pair and facing Jack?"
"That. I never doubted you, Rafael, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't consider the possibility of history repeating itself. Especially when things came down to the wire. So… maybe a part of me still can't believe that you actually told Jack to his face. Especially on a day like today." A giddy smile slowly emerged on her face.
"I'm not David Haden, Liv."
"I know." She squeezed his hand affectionately. "Thank you for doing that."
"Something just… washed over me when I was heading in for the meeting," he added contemplatively. "And I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I - we - kept this in the dark for much longer."
"I've been thinking the same," she smiled.
"I guess we're pretty in sync, huh," he replied in amazement.
"Haven't we always been?" she winked.
She was right. This was the way they'd always been, from the first day he arrived at the 16th Precinct - but now it meant something far more important.
"I'm really glad that you're still here, Liv."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." And she meant every word.
"You know that I love you, right?"
Olivia smirked playfully. "I already knew, but it's always nice to hear it again."
Rafael playfully slapped her arm. "Careful, Lieutenant Benson - you're getting cocky."
Olivia didn't have a sassy comeback to that, but the peals of mirthful laughter that echoed through the room and filled his ears once again made his heart swell. Seeing her this happy, this uninhibited, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and lit up - it was the antidote he needed.
"We don't have to think about Dodds or Jack tonight. But we can pray that my pasta doesn't give either of us food poisoning and find something interesting to watch," she suggested as she reached for her half-finished plate and the TV remote with a renewed vigour.
He'd spent the entire day fretting about David Willard and Jack McCoy, and he wasn't going to give them a second longer. It was time to let go of the day and just let himself be - to soak in the fact that Olivia was still here, her arm draped over his shoulders, brown eyes sparkling with enough strength for the both of them.
It was time to give up the fight and fall into her.
He wished he had the words to tell her just how much he loved her, but he refused to let any more worry consume him. Rafael inched closer to her and inhaled the scent of her perfume, smiling contentedly when he felt her head gently rest on his shoulder.
When Olivia returned from the kitchen, where she'd just loaded their soiled plates and the cookware into his dishwasher, she found Rafael standing by his bay window, scotch glass in hand and a reflective stare at pitch-black Central Park in the distance. The roaring lightning and thunder of earlier had all but disappeared, leaving only a quiet pitter-patter against the glass.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She moved across the room to join him and cast her gaze on the still-bustling Park Avenue below them, which the soft-water petals blanketed, leaving only the faint, distorted glow of the streetlamps. They'd turned the TV off after realising that there was nothing of interest to watch, and the silence that now filled the room was equal parts comfortable and brooding.
Pathetic fallacy. He'd thought her that phrase one gloomy afternoon in a coffeeshop in Chelsea, where she'd promptly laughed off as yet another example of his Harvard oratory, but now felt more acutely as ever as a quiet pensiveness settled over the room.
"Just thinking about how crazy today has been," he ruminated. "How crazy the last few months have been, actually."
"Like you said - we've had one heck of a year. Everything happened so fast."
It was an understatement. Nothing could have prepared them for how quickly things had spiralled following that fateful morning after the Catholic Church investigation - or for where they'd end up after all the highs and lows that'd been thrown their way.
"It certainly was a lot."
"Sometimes I still feel bad for how messy things between us got," she admitted, guilt instantly crossing her face.
He looked up from his glass to make eye contact with her. "Well, not everything done in the dark is shameful."
Not everything done in the dark is shameful.
And things were finally seeing the light.
"If you'd told me six months ago if we'd end up here, I definitely would have laughed you off," he added.
"Well, we are here now." The enormity of those words sank in as she said them. "And I'm glad to be here."
"Me too." He pressed a tender kiss to the side of her head. "I love you, Liv."
"I love you too, Rafael."
The lights of the Chrysler Building twinkled in the distance, a beacon even in the rain, and Olivia instinctively tightened her grip around him as memories of that fateful night, staring at that very building, standing at this very window, flowed through her like water. It was the same window where this had all started - where she'd grabbed him by the suspenders and kissed him for the first time, knowing that things between them would never be the same again.
Without her shoes on, she stood eye-to-eye with him - so close that she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest and every caress sent shockwaves through her. She inhaled the combination of scotch - from the glass she'd bought for him back in the day - and woodsy cologne; scents that she'd memorised and allowed to leave traces on her skin, omnipresent and intoxicating.
Do I want him? she asked herself, although she knew the answer even before she'd finished that sentence. She wanted him, and there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her.
She felt a potent mix of affection and desire erupt in her belly. He was radiating it too.
Rafael drank in the immensity of her presence next to him: the way her breath caught when their skin touched; the way the city lights illuminated her skin. There was nothing in the room but her. It was the clearest he'd ever seen her - his Olivia.
The next thing they did came over them like a spell, but it didn't detract from the blinding clarity in their minds.
Rafael and Olivia closed the rest of the distance between them, their lips and bodies meeting like fire and ice, and all the pent-up desire of the last couple of months exploding into incandescent light.
As he lowered her onto his bed, every move intentional and tender, the inner turmoil of the last few days finally came to an end as he surrendered to just how much he loved Olivia Benson.
He gave himself - all of himself - to her.
Sunlight streamed through the partially open window, bathing the bedroom in a warm glow. On a chilly morning, the warmth was divine. Rafael rubbed her eyes and sank into the bed beneath him, inhaling the familiar scent of his sheets, intermingled with the delicate floral notes of a perfume that had long become a part of him.
His eyes fluttered open and he languidly turned to his left. Next to him lay the stirring figure of Olivia Benson, her brunette hair caressing his collarbone and sheets grazing her bare skin, the glimmer of the morning sun casting her in an almost ethereal glow. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be here, their bare legs tangled and hands brushing in search of the other's, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his.
Green eyes found brown seconds later and a wave of comfort washed over them both. The gravity of what they'd done the night before hit them like a freight truck. No, this wasn't a drunken one-night stand.
This was the real deal. This was everything he'd wanted that night they locked lips for the first time, but also so much more than that.
A comfortable, serene silence enveloped the room. There was no frantic rush to jump out of bed and scrub themselves of all traces of the other; there was no shame, no regret. He gently kissed her on the lips and luxuriated in the serene smile that she wore as they pulled apart, their foreheads still touching and bodies still tangled.
Light. That was all he saw when he looked at Olivia Benson - his lighthouse, his beacon, his light at the end of the tunnel. They'd seen the highest of highs and lowest of lows together, all starting from one mistake - a mistake that they'd turned into something so much more precious.
Sure, there were many things they still had to worry about: what Rafael was going to do for the rest of the month, what Dodds would have to say about their relationship now that they'd made things official, what changes they'd have to make going forward… but they both knew that no matter what challenges or curveballs came their way, they'd find a way out of the mess - together, like they always had.
But all that could wait until later, because for now, he was hers and she was his.