Part IV: Determination

SVU has delivered Rafael a tough case, and a sleepless night.

Warnings: OC

Associated episode: N/A

I dreamt I was wandering around my hospital, inexplicably lost in the familiar white hallways. I'd my way to where I meant to be - my ER - but the door would disappear just as I approached it. I heard a siren in the distance and knew there was a trauma coming in, knew I had to get to there, so I started running, racing toward the next door, but each one vanished one after another. Every time I swung around a familiar corner, the door was sinking into the wall, gone without a trace.

The sirens grew louder, echoing in my ears, and I knew, I knew they were looking for me, just on the other side of the wall…

When I woke up I half expected to still be in the hospital but instead of the acrid smell of disinfectant, I smelled freshly laundered sheets and Rafael's cologne. There were still the sirens though, and when I reached across the bed, I found only cool sheets and no Rafi.

I got to my knees and peered out the curtain, setting my chin on the headboard. The night sky was glowing faintly orange in the east - there was a fire a few streets over, and a bad one, if the number of firetrucks was any indication.

I watched for a while, watched the red, white, and blue lights of firetrucks, ambulances, and cop cars whizzing toward the scene; I watched until that curiosity was sated, and another one cropped up: the case of the missing lover.

To be honest, I knew where I'd find him. It's where I always found him when the bed beside me was cold in the wee hours.

He was pacing in front of the couch, his usual entourage of folders and law books and a plethora of paperwork scattered around the couch, having overflowed from the coffee table. The clock on the wall told me it was 2am, and the hunch of his shoulders told me he'd been at this for more than a few hours. He still wore his undershirt and suit pants, but everything else had been shucked and tossed onto various surfaces, including the tie which was now hanging off that ugly table lamp.

I watched him for a few minutes, watched as he paced back and forth, back and forth, arms folded over his chest, the gold cross he wore on a chain around his neck glinting in the lamp light. Finally he stopped in front of the window and rubbed his face with both hands. I crept up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He jumped, startled, before I pressed my lips to the back of his neck. His skin was hot, his neck and ears bright red. Whatever was bothering him, it was really bothering him.

"I'm losing this case," he bit the words out, as if disgusted to be speaking them. "I'm losing this case and I don't know how to stop." His hands came to hold mine against his chest.

"It'll come to you, babe. It always does."

"Not this time. This guy, he's… he's slithered out of three convictions on technicalities. And he's going to do it again if I don't come up with how to convince a jury he's guilty with evidence that's…" he stopped, and let out a long, slow breath. "My arguments are solid, I've got an answer-tree that's strong, but… but if I don't prove that he did this-"

"You can only with with what you have to work with, Raf," I said quietly, setting my chin on his shoulder. "If the evidence isn't there…" I trailed off

"It is, to an extent, but…" he sighed again. Trying to keep from giving me too much information. Trying to walk the line between letting me in, and letting me know too much. Trying to shield me from the sickness he dealt with in these SVU cases. "There's just too much left to chance here. Too much room for interpretation by the jury, and the defense attorney-"

"Buchanan?"

"Yes," he growled. "He's going to sink his teeth into the holes in this case and rip it apart."

"What do you always say, babe? Don't catastrophize?"

He gave a sharp exhale of breath - the laugh of a man currently incapable of laughing. He stared out the window, his thumbs rubbing over the skin of my hands as he held them to his chest. If I closed my eyes I could almost see the synapses firing in his brain, thoughts racing as he tried to build a bulletproof case against a man he knew was guilty down to the very marrow of his bones.

We stood there quietly for a long time, until finally he spoke again, voice low and determined. "I have to get him."

"You will."

"I have to. I don't know how I'm going to do it," another one of those one-breath laughs. "But I'm going to."

Translations: NA

A/N: A shorty chapter while I punch up my 'how they met' oneshot. Will post it next! As always, thanks for reading, and reviewing! - C