I keep getting told I'm wrong for shipping Barson, and now I'm doubling down. So, this story starts before Stabler leaves and becomes a parallel AU. Welcome to the messy side of my brain.

Inevitable
by ScintillatingTart

I:

"Brooklyn SVU is short three people for at least the next month," Olivia Benson said, chewing on the cap of her pen and sighing. "One on planned maternity leave, one on suspension pending investigation, and one on medical leave because he fell partway down a fire escape ladder while in pursuit of a rapist and has to have tendon surgery."

"Sounds like a party I don't want to be a part of," Elliot Stabler replied, signing some paperwork with a flourish. "Sucks to be them."

"Cragen drafted me to go help out for a while," Olivia said.

Elliot looked up at her, alarmed. "What? No. Absolutely not. The hell's he thinking?"

"He's thinking that he'll get brownie points for helping out," she replied, her tone wry.

"Send Munch or Fin," he shot back dismissively.

She snorted. "I was told that they said under no circumstances at all was Cragen to send Munch to Brooklyn. Apparently there was an incident a few years back –"

"Yeah, I had to save the day: I remember," Elliot said. "It's why I hate that unit. So send Fin. Not you."

"I'm not looking forward to this either," she pointed out. "Brooklyn isn't exactly my favorite place."

"The commute is hell."

"Says the guy who lives in Buttfuck, Queens," she shot back cheerfully. "Look, I'm hoping it's only a month I'm gone, but it could be longer. I mean, it won't be as long as when I went undercover with the Feds, right? So there's that."

"Yeah, and you can still answer your damn phone," Elliot replied.

"So, what do I need to know about Brooklyn SVU?" Olivia asked.

"They're a bunch of dysfunctional twits with ballbags for brains," he muttered. "Oh, and their Executive ADA is a prick: Rafael Barba. They call him El Tiburón."

"The Shark? That's not exactly groundbreaking," Olivia scoffed, pushing back her hair and rolling her eyes. "Sounds like every lawyer I've ever known."

"It's more than a nickname for him," he warned. "Barba sees a weakness, a chink in the armor, and he exploits it: he goes straight for the underbelly and rips you apart, just like a shark. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't pause, and he has no remorse. It's part of why his success rate is so high: 95%. He only takes the cases he can win, and he pursues them like a dog with a bone. Liv, do not get on his radar: I don't want you to get hurt."

She waved her hand dismissively and laughed. "C'mon, El, I'm a big girl: I can stand on my own two feet and everything. Asshole lawyers don't scare me. Didn't I make Rita Calhoun blink in the middle of our staring contest in court the other day? She's the biggest bitch on the block. I'm not scared of some measly little ADA who's supposed to be on our side anyway – he's just going to have to get with the program here because I don't play to win."

"No one ever said you did," Elliot sighed. "You play dirty."

"Nah, El," she said with a small smile on her lips. "I fight like a girl."

Everyone in the NYPD and their various judicial tentacles knew – or knew of – Detective Olivia Benson. Her reputation as a tough as nails, give zero fucks, balls to the wall force of nature detective with a bleeding heart for the victims she helped to serve preceded her wherever she went.

Rafael Barba, however, hadn't expected her to look so soft and inviting. The woman was all physical curves and sex appeal in her black slacks and grey button-down, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. "Sorry, I have no idea where to look for that file," she said quickly. "I've only been here since five and they stuck me on the overnight calls tonight. I think I'm being punished. Sorry – I'm Detective Benson, Manhattan SVU."

"I know who you are. Thank you for being patient with me, Detective – there isn't a digital copy of this, due to the nature of the information in the file, so…" He shrugged and swallowed hard; her perfume tickled his nose, and he wondered what that was – it was unusual, violets maybe? Very upscale. Definitely not the typical Bath & Body Works crap the female detectives usually sprayed around the precinct.

"It's a little late for the ADA to be out collecting his own files," she pointed out, glancing over her shoulder at him pointedly.

"My assistant usually does it."

"But…?"

"She went home at ten."

"Slavedriver."

"Only on days that end in 'Y', Detective." He felt the unfamiliar beginning of a smile on his lips and tried to tamp it down, but he couldn't – it came out as an awkward grimace.

"Ah, here we go," Benson said, holding up the file triumphantly. "Now, I think we need to talk about an appropriate method of payment."

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't even told me which ADA you are," she pointed out. "Just flashed me your ID badge quick enough I could tell it was real – so…"

"Barba. Rafael Barba. Give me my damn file." He was tired and cranky; he had a full day in court the next day and he wanted to finish for the night so he could go home and catch a couple hours of sleep so he could get up and hit the ground running. But here he was, facing off with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and all he could think about was how soon he'd get a real, proper introduction to the force of nature.

She smirked at him and handed over the file. "Just so you know," she said, "I'm pretty sure if you said 'please' once in a while, people would be more likely to piss on you if you were on fire." She full on smiled at her own joke as if it were funny, and all the blood in his body flowed directly south. Holy fuck.

This was dangerous, dangerous territory, and he was absolutely screwed. Focus, Rafi, focus. "Fortunately for me, I don't think I'll be on fire any time soon," Rafael said, his voice dropping half an octave and picking up a bit of a gravelly rasp as he fought the instant wave of arousal he felt around her. "Thank you for your assistance, Detective Benson – I'm sure we'll get a more formal introduction before you head back to Manhattan."

He turned on his heel and exhaled weakly as he strode away, his mind a jumble of messy thoughts, mostly about that beaming smile and how her legs would feel wrapped around his hips as he came undone inside her.

He undid the top two buttons of his shirt, his tie long ago loosened, and tried to calm down. No, this would not do. Not at all. He couldn't afford to be distracted by Detective Benson and her feminine wiles.

But well after one in the morning, when he was alone in his apartment with the remnants of a glass of scotch and the exhaustion and frustration of the long day nipping at his heels, the image of her smile lived rent-free in his head. If he hadn't been so damnably tired, he probably would have jerked off to the memory of her curves and her smile, the idea of taking her out for drinks and then the mutually assured destruction of fucking the night away in his bed…

He'd always been one to flirt with disaster.

Detective Benson was untouchable, the Saint of the SVU, and god help anyone who got close enough to get one of those infamous smiles.

He drank the last of his scotch and went to bed, annoyed with himself.

Olivia punched her pillow and groaned. She'd gotten off-shift at 2am and gone home only to not be able to sleep. At all.

She'd been called out around twelve-thirty after her encounter with the Executive ADA and had taken a statement from a victim in a recent case that she was being stalked. She'd stayed out on the street, watching, and had arrested a man who turned out to be the arraigned rapist in her case, out on bail, violating the restraining order. One more criminal off the street and going to Rykers.

So why did she feel so antsy? She was doing her job: one that she loved, one that she was good at. And, despite Elliot's protests to the contrary, she could handle herself quite nicely, thank you very much. Tonight proved it. She had been out on her own with minimal backup and no partner, simply because there wasn't the personnel for it, and had push come to shove…

There it was: she was second guessing herself on the back end. She was questioning herself and her abilities in a critical voice that sounded suspiciously like Elliot's. And she didn't like it. Not at all.

She got up and started pacing, her anxiety rising, but not yet to an overwhelming mode. After a few minutes, she sat down on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. She was due to report back to the station at 10 am for a mid shift and she was already concerned because she couldn't sleep.

She would have to face the ADA in charge of the Grossman case, which was, of course, Barba, so she'd be getting that proper introduction a lot sooner than they'd thought. Didn't he say he'd be in court all day? Maybe not this day, probably the next, but her testimony would definitely be needed as new charges would be brought before the judge. And that would happen sooner rather than later.

Speaking of Rafael Barba, he had been nothing like the picture Elliot Stabler had painted of him. She had been expecting a tall, hulking man imposing in his physical space and appearance. And instead, he had only been her height, with a softness about his face that had belied the clipped sting of the sharp enunciation of his words. One look at him had sent her senses into overdrive and she'd found herself flirting with him out of teasing instinct – look at me, please, god, just… oh, your eyes are green – but she knew he was dangerous and they didn't call him El Tiburón for shits and giggles. He'd barely been put together when he'd shown up at her temporary desk in his charcoal pinstriped pants and unbuttoned vest, pale yellow shirt, green tie loosened and hanging low down his chest and green suspenders just peeking out when he moved around just so.

She wondered what he would look like when he was rumpled from sleep, waking up beside her, wrapped around her, the soft light of morning –

She'd made a joke about pissing on him when he was on fire, but god help her, she wanted to be the reason he was on fire. It had been a long time since she'd felt such a strong attraction to anyone, and it was reckless and dangerous, and fuck, did she want it like she wanted air to breathe.

"Ugh," Olivia muttered. She flopped back into bed and covered her eyes with her arm, trying to block out all the light from her room in a futile attempt to sleep.

Brooklyn would still be there in the morning.

Barba would still be waiting for her in the morning.

She would still have to deal with all of this shit in the morning.

TBC...