II:

"So 25 Acts," Rollins said. "People are just using it as an excuse to commit sexual crimes now because they're perceived as more mainstream; the lines of consent are blurred."

"Consent is consent: it's not blurred," Fin argued.

"You read it, Olivia," Amanda persisted.

"Yeah," Olivia said, stabbing at her salad and grumbling about the lack of cheese.

"What do you think?"

"I think that people do a lot of stupid things and want an excuse to hide behind," Liv said with a sigh. "Like the people at the deli shorting me on cheese again. It's an apple, walnut and gorgonzola salad – and there's next to no cheese."

"But, I mean, were you aroused by anything in the book?" Rollins asked.

Liv looked at her and blinked. "You think I have time for sex, Rollins? Or to get hot and bothered over a book? I'm flattered you think so, but that would be a no. I don't even have time to find a real date to go on."

"Baby girl ain't been on a date for, what, two years?" Fin asked. "And that guy ran for the hills."

"When was the last time you had sex?" Amanda persisted.

Olivia scoffed, then laughed. "It's absolutely none of your business."

"I'm just saying –"

"It's been a while," Liv sighed. "Again, not that it's anyone's business but mine."

"Okay, but my point being… you have to have some kind of preference – some kind of kink that makes things interesting," Rollins insisted.

Liv stabbed her salad viciously. "Nope," she said. "I'm pretty vanilla. Probably why I'm not getting any."

"You're not getting any because you're a nun," Munch said with a smirk.

"Hey, enough from the peanut gallery," Liv sighed. "Thought you guys were my friends."

"Friends don't let friends not get laid," Rollins commented in a lazy drawl, slurping on her drink. "By the way, Harris wants us to go see one of the new ADAs after lunch. Supposedly, he's interested in taking the case – he's big on taking cases that everyone else thinks are wastes of time."

"Right," Liv said. "Because a talk show host raping someone is a waste of time."

"You know what I meant."

"Ambiguous consent and moral superiority don't mix," Liv muttered. "Excuse me – I need to eat before I get sick." She ate through her salad and drank her juice, wrinkling her nose: the new diet her doctor had put her on was frustrating to say the least.

The others had gone back to work, but Amanda was still sitting at Amaro's desk, looking tired and contrite. "Look, I'm sorry – you know I'm just trying to look out for you, right?" she said. "Girl power and all?"

"I'm fine," Liv said with a small smile. "Really."

Suddenly, Amanda inhaled sharply and said, "Fuck – Liv, he really screwed you up, didn't he? Jesus… no wonder you were so upset when he left –"

"What?" Olivia said, momentarily taken aback and definitely confused. "Who?"

"Stabler."

"Elliot? What does Elliot have to do with any of this?"

"Well, you slept with him and he left and –"

Liv stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Where on earth did you get that idea?" she asked. "I very definitely did not sleep with my partner – he's married. I was friends with his wife. What the hell, Amanda?"

"Well, you slept with someone who fucked you up –"

"Look, just because I don't feel the primal urge to fuck someone doesn't mean I'm fucked up," Liv muttered. "Okay? I'm tired of this conversation. Let's get this meeting over with so I can go home on time for once."

"Hot date?" Amanda said hopefully.

"With my couch, a box of mac & cheese, and a DVD under the blanket," Liv said. "Perfect date."

"Fin's right: you're a damn hermit," Rollins groused, flipping back her blonde hair.

Liv laughed sadly; she knew all too well that she had burned the fires of her youth brightly and quickly, and now she was a sad husk of a woman sitting at a desk in a beautiful satin and lace push up bra and matching panties that reminded her of the one night in her life when she dared to reach out and grab for anything but mediocrity. Her clothes hid that secret, just as her hard, tired face hid the secrets of her heart.

And with every passing day, she knew that she had thrown it all away – and for what?

"Benson, Rollins, c'mon," Captain Harris called. "We don't have all day."

Liv threw her lunch trash away and sighed before she adjusted the photos on her desk and grabbed her jacket. "Yes, sir," she said, giving Rollins an annoyed look. Until Cragen came back, she had to play nice: but only till then. Once he was back, she'd get to go back to life as normal with Amaro as her partner and Rollins rolling shotgun to Fin – something she was far more comfortable with. All this touchy feely shit was starting to make her skin crawl.

The ride to the courthouse was quiet, except for Harris trying to engage them in small talk, trying to get them to open up about themselves. Amanda gave him a little; Liv gave him nothing but silence. "You know, Benson, the cold shoulder might work with perps, but it's not going to work on me," Harris said in a mild tone. "You might want to get used to me being around."

She remained silent, composing her grocery list in her head at the same time as she was running down case details that she thought would be relevant to bring up with the ADA if he or she decided to take the case.

It wasn't until they were entering the courtroom gallery that Harris leaned over and muttered, "Don't you dare embarrass me, Benson."

And she felt the overwhelming urge to gut him like a fish.

Men like him were the reason she didn't date. The arrogant, slimy men who thought automatically that they were so much better just because they had junk swinging between their legs instead of – the men who degraded and humiliated their female peers for no reason than to feel their own egotistical superiority and get a rise out of it. Men like Adam Cain who took it a step further, blown into violence and suffering.

The last man she had really tried to have a relationship with had cut it off for reasons that she understood far better than she cared to admit. They still saw each other once in a while in passing at the precinct, in court, sometimes on the street, and they shared a small smile for what had been and what could have been…

Liv's head jerked up, startled, when the prosecutor began his argument – the voice was so familiar, dulcet tones that haunted her dreams, her nightmares, her memories. She could only see him from behind for the moment, but the shape of his shoulders was right; she remembered with vivid clarity digging her fingers into the muscles of his back until her knuckles had gone white and numb. She inhaled deeply through her nose, dropped her hands into her lap to stop fidgeting – but it didn't help.

He turned to face the gallery and she was certain then – he was older, but unmistakable: Rafael. Of all the places, all the times…

Rollins nudged her a little and gave her a look, then glanced out at the lawyer, raised a brow, and smirked. The bitch actually had the audacity to smirk at her. Like she didn't have feelings.

Liv exhaled roughly and rolled her eyes. He wouldn't remember her: he couldn't possibly remember her. Time hadn't been kind; she'd gotten old and more than a little chubby, hence the new diet – staving off diabetes one day at a time. And even if he did, it was ridiculous to think that he would think of her as anything other than the woman he'd had a single night's pleasure with. She was used to disappointment.

It didn't stop her from wearing fancy underwear every day and having scandalous thoughts about the one man that had managed to lift her up rather than trample her into the dirt.

And when arguments concluded and he bickered with opposing counsel, she could see the tension radiating off of him in waves – the same tension that had been rife in his body the night they had met. He straightened his shoulders and turned to Harris, quipping, "Bring your daughters to work day, Captain?"

"Very funny – I lied and told them you knew your way around a courtroom," Harris said. "ADA Rafael Barba, Detective Amanda Rollins and Detective Olivia Benson with Manhattan SVU."

"Pleasure to meet you," Rollins drawled sweetly, shaking Rafael's hand and smiling a big smile that was all teeth – the smile she used to impress everyone. It didn't impress him; he quickly turned his attention away from her and focused on Olivia with laser precision.

"Mr. Barba," Olivia began, hanging back, not offering him any physical contact, nor quite meeting his gaze, "we need you to take the Paley case to trial."

"It's a he-said-she-said," Rafael said. "She writes erotic books. You'll never convince a jury that she didn't want it, based on the books that she's written and the fantasies that she portrays in said manuscripts."

"It isn't my job to persuade them," she pointed out, finally lifting her chin and meeting his gaze.

"You believe her story."

"It's not just a story," Amanda interjected. "There's video of the elevator encounter."

"Circumstantial," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "He will say that she set him up – asked him to follow her and then cried rape." He stopped pacing, came to a stop right in front of Olivia, his hands on his hips as if he had been deep in thought. "What about you, Benson?"

"She was raped by a man who doesn't know boundaries," Liv said. "He thinks he's above the law; it's our job to show him otherwise. It doesn't matter if she had a rape fetish or an asphyxiation fantasy or just enjoys rough sex, and it doesn't matter if she had the courage to put that on paper for other people to experience. What matters is his actions: he took away her rights. He took away her right to consent. He stripped her of her dignity, her grace, and her spirit, and it's our job to fight for her – not to let him get away with being a reprehensible human being."

There was a long pause, then Rafael smirked. "I like a challenge – it'll be worth it to see Adam Cain eat dirt," he said cheerfully. "By the way, Detective, you oversold it… you had me at 'he thinks he's above the law'."

"Hey, Liv, we'd better get going if we're going to get everything lined up for tomorrow before you head home," Rollins said. "Sorry to cut this short, Mr. Barba – if you need anything, you can call me at the precinct and they'll forward the call to my cell."

"Of course – I'll have my secretary set up a meeting with Jocelyn Paley tomorrow," he said. "In the meanwhile, it was a pleasure meeting the both of you and I look forward to working with you."

Amanda's smile was wide and sweet but predatory; Liv didn't smile, but this time, she shook his hand when he offered it, lest she be found rude and wanting. His hands were just the same as she remembered, fingers soft with the stagnancy of academia but calloused with the use of pens and keyboards and mugs of coffee.

Another small smile, but she didn't, couldn't smile in return – she couldn't, for want of breathing.

It wasn't until they had ditched Harris in favor of walking back to the station via the bakery and coffee shop – because Liv couldn't fucking stand the stupid diet for one second longer and she was going to die if she didn't get an éclair – that Rollins said, "So, what the hell was that back there?"

"What?"

"You and Barba."

"There is no me and Barba."

"Riiiight. That's why you looked like you were going to drop your panties right there in the courtroom for him," Amanda said doubtfully.

"That is an incredibly inappropriate thing to say to your co-worker," Liv said.

"Look, I mean, he's… he could get it," Rollins said. "Not my type, but I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers if you know what I mean. And if you want him, you'd better go get him before someone else does."

"I don't want him," Olivia lied, picking at her éclair. She didn't want to be having this conversation.

"Shit, Olivia, this is the first time I've seen you look twice at a man – except Trevor Langan. And he doesn't count because he's your ex. And he left you, for reasons passing understanding. So fuck him." Amanda took a decisive bite of her muffin. "So if you want Barba, fuckin' go get him. He was lookin' at you like you were a tasty snack. So I'd say that crush is mutual."

"Rollins, shut up," Liv muttered.

TBC...