*Barba*

He sat in the car chewing his bottom lip, listening to the whisper of the wipers sweep across the glass, the whoosh of tires on wet pavement as cars passed by. Night had fallen, but as usual, the city refused to fall asleep, and in some ways he liked it that way. Other days, though, he hated it, hated the evil man bestowed upon one another, and he'd be lying if it didn't cross his mind at least three or four times a day to throw in the towel and call it quits. But he stayed the course, put in the hours, sometimes well into the night, because someone had to do it, and in the end he actually enjoyed the company of the people he worked with. One more than the others, obviously.

And that's actually what brought him to his current location at the increasingly late, and getting later, hour. Normally, he had no problem with speaking his mind, or even pushing the boundaries, yet the problem before him was one he hadn't quite encountered before, at least not in this particular context.

So how did he go about saying what he needed to say?

Though maybe he should have focused less on words, at the precise moment, and more on getting up the nerve to get out of his car. He'd been sitting here long enough it was only a matter of time before someone called the cops on him for creeping, loitering, or any other misdeeds they could cook up to explain him sitting in a parked car, radio on low, a light rain tapping on the roof.

What if he did get up the nerve to venture beyond the comfort of his vehicle only to find the person he intended to see turned him away? It'll never happen. Not in a million years. It's not in her nature. Perhaps not. He knew her well enough after all these years to understand her heart and soul. She never turned anyone away, least of all a friend in need. So that certainly wasn't the reason for his reluctance. Maybe, he decided, maybe it boiled down to fear. Logic told him this was the right place to seek help, to get guidance. On a more personal level, what if his desire for help only made things worse?

"Fuck it," he muttered under his breath. He reached for the keys, snatching them from the ignition, stopping the wipers mid-sweep. Before he could falter, before fear and indecision could send him tumbling back to the safety of his car, he struck out across the street. He narrowly avoided being hit by a taxi, the driver mashing the horn, then flipping him off for good measure. The joys of New York.

The building was familiar to him seeing as he'd visited a number of times in the past. Some of those occasions were even happy. This time it would not be. He hoped he wasn't about to completely ruin her night. Then again, the news he brought with him wasn't even in the neighborhood of good and directly involved someone she cared about.

Just not to the degree he did.

And that thought was enough to halt his progress up the stairs. Did he really want to shatter his world and invite someone else into their privacy? None of them knew. As brilliant as they were at their jobs, none of them had figured it out yet. At least, not that he could tell. None of them had let on.

He nearly turned around.

"No," he said, then clenched his jaw. He was going to see this through, everything else be damned, it was the right thing to do. When he reached her door he paused yet again, this time with his hand in midair. He glanced toward the stairs. To flee… He knocked, almost as if his hand had a mind of its own.

A beat passed.

Maybe he come too late, she'd gone off to bed to be rested for the grueling task of work tomorrow. He nearly turned away with a sigh of relief. If she failed to answer than it wasn't on him. He'd made it to her door with every intent of informing her of the… issue, but he couldn't very well do that with her asleep. Perhaps it merely wasn't meant to be.

He took a step back.

The door opened and Captain Olivia Benson stood there in sweat pants and a loose fitting t-shirt, completely different from the way she dressed for work. A lamp glowed in her apartment, casting shadows on the walls. Her young son was no doubt safely tucked away in bed.

"Rafael," she said his name, a touch of surprise in her tone, for which he couldn't blame her. "It's late, is everything okay?"

"No," he choked out the word, nearly losing his nerve. There was no going back now. He needed to see this through. "Can I speak to you?"

"Of course," Olivia said. She stepped aside to let him in.

A glass of wine sat on her coffee table with an opened book, overturned to save her place. She'd been enjoying a relaxing evening and now he came to her door to darken the night in a new way.

"Do we need to go to the station? Call the guys?"

"Uh, no." He cleared his throat. Barba thrust his hands into the pockets of his raincoat for lack of anything better to do with them. "I, um, I know someone who needs help and I'm not entirely sure I can give it to them. You, this is your area of expertise."

Her features softened, but her eyes blazed with the fire that made her perfect for heading Special Victims Unit. "Can you elaborate a little more?"

A touch of heat crept into his cheeks. Barba liked to keep his personal life separate from work and again, he figured none of them had caught on… What he said next was going to reveal a new aspect of who he was, and why was he so worried about it? He was standing before the most caring, open-minded, compassionate person in his world.

"My partner." When he spoke he kept his voice low, his tone even, and avoided eye contact, afraid if he met her gaze he'd fall apart. "When I got home this evening I found them sitting in the dark and…" Barba momentarily closed his eyes, regretting it as he recalled in perfectly clarity what he saw when he crossed the threshold into his apartment. A hand on his arm caused it to fade and he found himself gazing into her eyes, the image blurry. He was crying and hadn't even realized it. What a night this was turning out to be.

"Talk to me."

"I think he was raped," the words tumbled out, and as he admitted to being with a man he searched Olivia's face for any indication of how she felt. Nothing. Only the kindness and tenacity he expected to find. It gave him the courage to forge ahead. "All the signs are there, but I couldn't get him to talk. This… this is… You know better how to handle this. Please, can you come talk to him?"

"Do you want to bring him down to the precinct?"

Barba quickly shook his head, his heart skipping a beat. "I don't think that's the best idea. Not yet. I think an air of discretion is important right now. I'm not sure how he'd feel if the others found out."

Olivia frowned. "The others? They'll treat this like any other case, you know that."

"I do, and I'm sure they would, but…" He met her gaze one more time, letting the final ball drop. " It's Sonny."