SETTING: Sometime after 19x9 ("Gone Baby Gone").

"Let's all take 15 to get ourselves together, and then we'll meet back here."

"Copy that, Lieutenant," Amanda said, and the others intoned the same sentiment as they trailed out. Barba was at the end of the line, but instead of following he closed the door behind Fin then turned back toward Olivia.

"Don't," was her immediately response.

"Liv," he began, but she cut him off.

"Please."

Barba saw her eyes fill with tears and took a step toward her, but paused when she held up a hand and then escaped behind her desk.

"You need to leave. Right now. I still have work to do and if you're going to be here, being you..."

He understood then. "Okay. I'll go. But Liv -"

"Please," she said again, this time with her gaze set downward and a waver in the voice.

"Okay." And he let her be.

After all these years of seeing and experiencing so many horrific things, it was a wonder that Benson wasn't completely numb or hardened, that she would still allow herself to feel so deeply. Barba considered it more of a miracle that she wasn't a complete mess all the time. So he was certainly willing to grant her these moments, giving her more grace than he gave himself.

But he did feel this, whether he let it show, whether he would ever let himself indulge it or surrender to it. Because he had known this girl, had spent time with her. Had seen her resilience and her determination, even so young, so vulnerable. He had seen her look her abuser in the eye in front of a full courtroom and bury him with her words.

So to have just received this news that this victim, this hero, had died so senselessly in a car accident, that she would never be given the chance to have a real childhood and reclaim her life after all that had been done to her, Barba was far from unaffected. Reaching out to Olivia had been as much for his benefit as it would have been for hers.

He understood why she had sent him away. It was 2 in the afternoon and her team had just caught a new case. This wasn't the time to fall apart. It was the time to push the emotion down, lock it away until they had the luxury to revel in the grief, to really do it justice.

"Carisi, a word?"

Sonny looked up from his desk where he'd been staring blankly at his computer monitor, which was off. "Yeah, Counselor?"

"I need to speak to Liv, but obviously this isn't the time. If you think of it, could you drop me a text when things are starting to wrap up here, so I can swing by before she leaves?" Barba was counting on the fact that Carisi always seemed to be looking for an excuse to kiss his ass and would be the least likely to forget the request.

"Yeah, sure Counselor. I'll make it happen."

Carisi was true to his word. The text arrived at around 8:30 p.m.: "We're starting to pack up for the day, but Lieu is in her office."

Barba tapped a brief and non-effusive thanks (so as to not encourage any continued chatter) then quickly packed up and locked up his office.

The bullpen was empty of familiar faces when Barba strode through it and knocked on her door. Her "come in" was all business.

"Counselor." She somehow managed to wield her greeting like a weapon, warning him away.

"Lieutenant." He didn't leave the doorway. "Nearly finished? I thought you could use a drink."

"Not today." She returned her focus to whatever she was pretending to work on, dismissing him.

Normally he would accept her "no" and walk away. He'd done it enough. But today was different. "Actually, *I* could use a drink. And I really don't want to drink alone, or I may not stop." His words were meant to be tactical and he didn't even connect them in the moment with how he was really feeling. But later, in retrospect, he realised they were true.

Benson seemed to notice, to see through the posturing. She'd looked up as though to call him on his crap, but she ended up thoughtful and silent.

"Well?" Barba pressed. "Want to get out of here?"

"I haven't cried yet," she suddenly blurted, then rolled her eyes at how ridiculous she must have sounded. But she continued her thought. "And I'm not sure how much longer I can keep that from happening, with you..."

"With me being here and being me?" he asked, quoting her words from that afternoon. But he wasn't teasing. "Then why don't we just stay here and get it over with?"

"Barba..." she said, a warning in her voice.

He shut the door and closed the blinds. "Come sit with me." He removed his jacket and sat in the middle of her couch, waiting. He could see the struggle clearly on her face, how much she wanted to give in to what she'd been fighting for hours, but with her sense of propriety and professionalism trying to win the day.

In the end it was HIS face that cinched it, the open concern and affection that had the tears falling before she even stood. By the time she'd walked around her desk she had resigned herself to what was to come, even grabbing a box of tissues and bringing it with her. She held it on her lap as she slumped down on the couch, leaning into his side and her feet joining his on the coffee table.

For the next hour they remained there, first talking about the girl, the little warrior, about how unfair it was that she wouldn't have at least the chance to overcome all she'd been through. It was Barba who turned things philosophical, musing about how maybe it was actually for the best. He was first ashamed that he had said it aloud, but found no judgement in her. This led to opening a door of thought he'd been determined not to walk through for the sake of his own mental health, but she drew it from him anyway: the question of whether the good of stopping bad people from doing more bad things was enough, whether it was emotionally and morally sustainable to just move on to catching the next bad person knowing the victims who survived so rarely thrived.

Throughout all this they stayed side by side. It was easier that way, allowed them to be freer that they otherwise might. They didn't embrace, not even when Olivia's steady tears turned into actual sobs more than once, not even when Barba had sheepishly reached for a tissue himself and dabbed at his eyes. They didn't embrace, but at times a comforting hand had found a forearm, a thigh, at times they had leaned their heads toward each other and rested that way, at times fingers had entwined and squeezed in a show of understanding, of solidarity.

It wasn't until they found themselves sharing an elevator alone that Barba had properly put his arms around her, but only briefly because it made her cry again. "This is why," she accused with a watery laugh. "You need to promise me that if you see me get emotional while we're working, you'll either ignore it or run away. None of this -"

"-Being me and being here?" He drew back with a chuckle, even as a warmth filled him, driving away a bit of the rawness he was feeling. At first he attributed it to flattery, ego, but as he closed the door on her cab and watched her drive away, he realised it was more than that. He was moved, genuinely and deeply so, that she not only trusted him with her sadness, but that his very presence drew out that vulnerability. He wasn't sure what he'd done to earn that trust, but as he began his own drive home he vowed to continue to prove he was worthy of it.

Barba didn't sit next to her at the funeral, didn't stand near her at the committal. He instead watched from afar as she was able to be a strong support for the family and a strong example for her team. He stayed through the whole reception just to watch her, even helping to stack chairs in the church basement as it ended. And when she finally made her way to his side and suggested they share an Uber back to the precinct, he still kept his distance.

It wasn't until they were in the back of the car that he held out a hand to her. An offer, an invitation. Immediately tears threatened and she squeezed his fingers before letting go. "Later," she said, her eyes pleading.

Relieved when he understood.

"Still work to be done," he agreed, turning his attention away from her and out the window, giving her the space she needed despite their proximity.

Olivia took several steadying breaths and felt her control return. When a few minutes later she glanced at her friend who was obviously doing his best to ignore her, she found herself getting emotional again. But this time that emotion wasn't prompted by grief, but by gratitude.

Note: From this point forward unless otherwise noted, these chapters are in chronological order taking place sometime after 19x9, which I see as a pivotal episode for these characters. As the season unfolds, I will likely add more firm timestamps.