"Mommy?"

Little hands were shaking her shoulder.

"Mommy, wake up, we're gonna be late."

Olivia's eyes pop open and she rolls over on her side to find that, according to her watch, it's—well, fuck—7:49. She immediately shoots up.

"Is there no school—"

"Nope, sorry, Noah there's still school," Olivia says as she frantically pushes the covers off her legs, "Mommy just slept in late, that's all." Damnit, Benson. She shakes her head to clear the morning fog and asks, "Did you get yourself some breakfast?"

"No, I wanted—"

"Okay, well, get yourself some cereal real quick while I get dressed, okay sweetheart," she says, making her way over to her dresser, "I'm gonna need your help making sure we get to school on time."

"But we don't have any cereal," Noah complains, watching as Olivia scrambles to pull together a suitable ensemble.

"Okay, um…" Her voice trails off as she struggles to come up with a solution until—"We'll get Dunkin' Donuts on the way, how about that?"

Noah's face breaks into a smile, "Yes please!"

Olivia gives him a fond look, "Sounds great. Now, go brush your teeth and get your homework and lunch in your backpack, I'll check it before we go."

He nods, turning to leave.

Before he goes, she calls after him, "Go team Benson right?"

His voice is sweet as he pumps his fist in the air, "Go team Benson!"

"You're late," Barba says in greeting, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.

Olivia shoots him a look. "Trust me, I know. My damn alarm didn't go off this morning," she says, shaking her head, "Noah had to wake me up. It was vaguely embarrassing."

Rafael gives her a sympathetic grimace as they continue to walk along the sidewalk, "Lucky for you, I know your order. Here." He sticks his hand out to her.

Her expression is grateful as she takes the cup from him, "Thank you."

He waves her off. "Missed you at sentencing yesterday. Swanson got 20 to life."

"I heard," she smiles, "You did good." His chest puffs a little at the compliment. "Sorry I missed it."

"It's fine," he reassures her before asking, "Any particular reason why you couldn't make it?"

"No—"

"Make it up to me then."

He grins at the surprised double-take and the falter in her step.

"Oh?" Her voice is wary.

"Dinner," he says, "With me. Tonight."

Her surprise gives way to an exasperated sigh, "Rafa..."

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence, "I can't ask you to dinner?"

Olivia says nothing.

"At least stop by my office later tonight," he cajoles. When she doesn't respond he frowns, "Please?"

She stares for a long minute before caving. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll stop by."

His grin widens, "Good."

As they reach the crosswalk where they always split off, he makes no move to stop and talk, leaving her behind with a satisfied smirk. It turns to a wide smile as she calls after him,

"You don't have to look so damn pleased about it you know."

He says nothing as he walks away.

Olivia can't stop thinking about Rafael. It's annoying.

Dinner, his voice whispers, With me. Tonight.

It's tempting. Damn it's tempting.

But they shouldn't. It would upset their careful balance, the very nature of their relationship. A relationship she very much cherished. Everything would change. Because dinner with Rafael wouldn't just be dinner with Rafael. It would be dinner with Rafael. And that, Olivia had already decided, is very dangerous.

It's why she didn't go to sentencing. Sentencing, in this case, would result in victory; child abuse cases with victim impact statements usually did. Victory would lead to celebratory drinks with Rafael. And celebratory drinks with Rafael? Well, she hadn't trusted herself to know what would happen with those at the moment.

Rightly so apparently.

Tempting, she thinks. Very tempting.

"We shouldn't you know," she says as a means of greeting hours later, closing his office door behind her.

Surprised, Rafael looks up from his work, "Shouldn't what?" he asks.

Olivia shoots him a look but says nothing as she sheds her coat.

He sighs heavily. "Olivia... It's just dinner." It sounds feeble even to him.

"Oh is it?" she frowns.

"If you want it to be."

"I think we both know nothing is 'just' anything when it comes to us."

His lips twitch at that as she settles into the chair on the other side of his desk before he slides open the drawer they both know contains the bottle of scotch they occasionally break open after a case. "Drink?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'll pass."

"Maybe later then," he smiles, sliding the drawer shut, "We still haven't celebrated the Swanson case after all."

"Don't change the subject," she chastises.

His eyes dart away from her as he shifts in his chair, "You said we shouldn't so I don't see what else there is to discuss."

"I said we shouldn't, not that we won't."

His eyebrows shoot up, "Oh?"

"After all, it is just dinner," she pauses, "Right?"

Rafael swallows and opens his mouth to speak before the muffled sounds of shouting and shrieks snatch their attention.

"I—What is that?"

Olivia stands up as he does, her eyebrows knit together with concern. "I don't know. Doesn't sound good though."

The furious rumble of a man's voice draws closer; Olivia points at Rafael. "Can you call Fin? I should see—"

"Is that a good idea?" Rafael blurts.

"Rafael, I'm a cop, it's my job—"

"It sounds like whoever's yelling is getting closer."

"All the more reason I should—"

"ADA BARBA!" The voice is clear, even through the wall. Clear and furious.

Olivia's stomach drops. "Get down Rafa, get down."

He knows he should move but he can't. He's frozen.

"Rafael, now!"

Olivia barely has her weapon drawn before the door flies open. A quick glimpse of the man—and his gun—is enough to snap Rafael out of his stupor and he flinches back. Olivia's hand is steady as she points the gun at Tom Swanson. "Put the gun down, Tom."

Tom Swanson. Son of Bill Swanson, the child rapist Rafael had sentenced to 20 years. His eyes are crazed, wide, flicking between Rafael and Olivia's gun. "I'll shoot him. Don't think I won't."

"You don't need to do that." Olivia's voice is coaxing, calming. "We don't need to do this Tom."

"Get back! NOW."

Rafael's heart leaps to his throat as Olivia flinches back.

"Farther!"

"Okay," Olivia says softly, "Okay, let's just stay calm here alright?"

"Shut up."

Sweat is pouring down Rafael's back as Tom presses farther into his office, Olivia backing up until she's an arm's length away.

"I can't, Tom, not with you pointing that gun at him."

His eyes flick over to Rafael as he ignores her; his expression hardens. "My father is a good man. A good man. And he locked him up. Like he's a criminal."

"He is a—"

"Rafael, no," Olivia hisses.

Tom doesn't ignore her this time as he turns on Olivia. "And you. You just had to go after him. You just had to keep pushing! This is all your FAULT!"

"Okay, Tom, I hear you, let's just—"

"NO. Shut up! You do not get to talk. You will listen to me."

Every one of her flinches stabs Rafael in the gut.

"Okay. Okay, you're in charge."

"Oh yeah? Put the gun down."

Olivia swallows. "I can't do that."

"You came into the courthouse with a gun," Rafael blurts as Tom's eyes narrow at Olivia. Relief floods his stomach when his attention shifts away from Olivia to Rafael. Until he sees the gun again. "The police will be here in minutes."

"So?" he spits.

"So we have time," Olivia says emphatically, "Time to figure out a plan. One where we all walk away from this."

"Walk away?" Tom whispers.

She nods. "Walk away. No one has to get hurt."

"No one," he says slowly. "No one has to get hurt?"

"No one," Olivia repeats.

"The thing is, Detective, my father—"

BANG!

"—already—"

BANG!

"—was."

Olivia didn't scream. But Rafael did. It was all she could hear as she crumpled to the floor. Was it the bullet or his scream ripping through her? Was this searing pain hers or his?

Hers.

She couldn't hear him anymore. It must be hers.

She couldn't hear anything.

Until...

"Mommy?"

Little hands were shaking her shoulder.

"Mommy, wake up, we're gonna be late."