AN: Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. I'm so happy to see that people are excited to see where this story is going, and that people who don't normally read AU fics are giving this a chance.

Please read, enjoy, and review!

Save Room

3. Fire Escape

One second, she was half-listening to this guy ramble on about how there's this one strain of weed that only made him crave his deceased grandmother's oatmeal raisin cookies. And the next second, she wasn't listening at all as she found herself completely lost in the warm, soulful eyes of a boy.

Amanda didn't believe in that love-at-first-sight bullshit. Those scenes where strangers gazed longingly at each other from across the room while everything else around them ceased to exist – those scenes were full of crap. That stuff never happened in real life, especially not in this day and age when people could just go online or log into an app on their phone, and filter out potential matches based on a profile picture and a list of carefully curated interests. But standing there in the midst of sweaty kids with alcohol-reduced inhibitions, Amanda's gaze fixed on the boy as her insides swarmed with, what felt like, butterflies.

Her first instinct was to suppress down the strange feeling and avert her attention back to the guy, who was still rambling about his bad trip. His name was Josh or John or Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Or maybe it didn't even start with a 'J'. Amanda blinked before her eyes flickered up to the stairs; but the boy was gone.

She excused herself from the one-way conversation and barely had enough time to witness the dejected expression on his face. Scanning the room, Amanda searched for signs of Wes and Claire. Wes wouldn't be too hard to find considering he'd probably be one of a few black people in the party; Claire, on the other hand, would be impossible seeing as she was at least a foot shorter than everyone else in the room. When she couldn't find her friends, she pulled out her phone to send a quick group text.

[Where are you?]

On most occasions, Claire was on top of replying to messages since her phone was like an auxiliary limb on her body. The lack of response was a bit worrisome, but Amanda figured Claire must have hit it off with the hipster kid with the ironic glasses; and Wes must have run off to corrupt a Catholic boy. She didn't want to ruin the fun for her two best friends.

[I'm heading out. Meet y'all back at Claire's.]

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and started for the door. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the party, because she really liked the drinks and the music; and the people weren't as snobby as she anticipated. They might've lived in a different zip code, but they were still teenagers just like her. Amanda just didn't feel like staying and talking to anyone there. Especially not when the guys who approached her only seemed to want one thing.

Anytime she just didn't feel like being somewhere, she had a habit of running. It was something Wes and Claire were both used to; and something that any guy who was ever interested in Amanda had to experience. Wes and Claire were good friends who chalked it up to a rough childhood and those few days Amanda went missing when she ran away from her home in Georgia. Most of the time, they didn't give her grief for it. But she knew that ditching her friends was a selfish act and it was something she really needed to work on. At least tonight, she sent them a warning text.

Reaching for the door, her movements came to a halt when she saw another hand get to the knob first.

"Leaving already?"

Amanda looked up to see the boy from the stairs. He tilted his head to the side and smirked.

"Yeah," she said, not breaking eye contact. "I just needed some air."

"Me too," he replied. "Mind if I join you?"

They walked out the hall in silence. He kept his hands in his jacket pocket until they reached the elevator and he pressed the down button. Amanda observed him from the corner of her eye. He was definitely a St. Francis kid. She could tell from the crisp white oxford shirt and the navy jacket that she'd once seen on a J. Crew mannequin.

When they stepped into the elevator, he turned to her and extended his arm out. "I'm Nick, by the way."

"Mandy," she replied, shaking his hand. He had a firm handshake. It reminded her of her mom's partner, Elliot.

They stood in silence until they arrived at the lobby and the elevator doors slid open. They walked out, and on the way, the doorman tipped his hat and wished them both a good evening. Amanda stood outside the door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She flipped the lid and offered them to Nick, who shook his head.

"I don't smoke."

"Oh, okay," she said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Amanda didn't smoke very often – only when she was feeling skittish or overwhelmed. Her mom would kill her if she found out about her habit, but she actually reveled in the danger of sneaking around and not getting caught.

"I thought you wanted fresh air," Nick chuckled softly, watching her take a drag.

Amanda exhaled and smirked. "You're not one of those people who'll show me a picture of black lungs to convince me to quit?"

"Don't need to," he answered, "they already have it on the box."

She looked down at her pack of Parliaments and saw no pictures of black lungs or dead babies; just a sticker that said, 'Smoking Kills'. It wasn't very convincing.

"You don't go to St. Francis, do you?"

Amanda blew a puff of smoke into the cool October air. "Nope."

"Are you going to tell me what school you go to?"

"I don't think you asked."

"That Southern accent," he said, furrowing his brows. "Are you even from New York?"

"It's a long story." Amanda stared wistfully into his eyes. There was something about those eyes that made her want to tell him the long story.

Nick studied her carefully. Feeling under the microscope, Amanda averted her gaze to the other side of the street.

"Are you hungry?" She asked him seemingly out-of-the-blue.

Nick shrugged.

"Come on," she said, throwing her smoke on the ground and grabbing his hand to drag him towards the food cart across the street. She ordered them falafels and before Nick could pull out his wallet and pay for their food, Amanda had thrown down a ten-dollar bill.

"Thanks," Nick said as they sat down on the sidewalk, "you didn't have to pay for me. I was going to—"

Amanda waved her hand to cut him off. "Don't worry about it. You'll make it up to me later."

"Later?"

"Yeah, just come with me," she took a bite of her falafel, turned her head towards him, and arched an eyebrow. "You said you needed some air. I know the perfect place."

4 hours later

The buzz of her phone disturbed Olivia's peaceful slumber. She rolled on her side to pick up the phone and press it into her ear.

"Detective Benson."

It was her partner's voice on the other line. Elliot also didn't sound appreciative of the 5AM wake-up call, telling them they had to go to Tribeca to investigate an underage drinking party. What was initially a call about a noise disturbance developed into a potential rape case when police showed up and found a dozen teenagers, who were either naked or in their underwear.

Assuring Elliot she'd meet him at the Tribeca apartment as soon as possible, Olivia rolled out of bed, but a pair of strong arms latching around her waist thwarted her attempt.

"I'm sorry, Bri," she said, looking over her shoulder to see Brian Cassidy's half-asleep form on her bed. "Duty calls."

"Ah, what is it this time?" He asked groggily. "Exhibitionist in Central Park? Assault in a club? Another campus rape in Hudson U?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, underage party in Tribeca with at least twelve possible victims."

"Shit," he mumbled in his sleep-induced daze. "Good luck with their mommies and daddies."

Sighing deeply, Olivia knew exactly what he meant by that. Generalizations were, more often than not, prejudicial; but if there was anything she and Brian learned after over a decade of working as a cop – it's that affluent parents from prominent families were often the challenging to work with. They either felt entitled to run the investigation or they tried to put an end to it for fear of ruining their families' reputations. Even at the expense of the victim.

The heels on her boots clicked audibly against the marble floors of the lobby. Her partner turned around to greet her 'good morning' while he rubbed his right eye. As they took the elevator to the loft, Elliot grumbled about having been woken up after only three hours of sleep, since Eli was up crying most of the night. When he caught her yawning, he asked if, she too, had a sleepless night. Olivia thought quickly and made up a lie about some DD5s she had to rewrite. He appeared unconvinced but let it go due to lack of sleep, which she was thankful for because the last thing she needed was for her partner to find out that she had taken advantage of her daughter's sleepover at Claire's house to invite Brian over to her apartment.

Olivia and Brian were still trying to figure out the nature of their relationship. After the Bart Ganzell and Delia Wilson war last spring and the scandal that rocked the boat for Captain Cragen, Olivia and Brian rekindled an old flame and found a sense of normalcy with each other. What began as a casual hook up turned somewhat serious as they both realized they were developing feelings. She started to think that maybe their feelings from thirteen years ago had never really gone away. Still, she felt it was too soon to tell anyone.

If Elliot were to find out, he would never let her live it down. He always disapproved of the men she dated. In fact, he gave her such a hard time about dating David Haden; and she was still trying to earn his trust back after that whole debacle. She didn't want to make it worse by revealing that she was sporadically sleeping with Brian. Then there was her daughter. Like her partner, Amanda wasn't a fan of David either. A part of her felt that Amanda would share the same opinion about Brian, so Olivia planned to wait until she was absolutely sure their relationship was going somewhere before she'd tell her daughter about them. She just needed to talk to Brian first.

The loft was in utter chaos when they arrived. Bottles and broken glass were strewn everywhere. Furniture was on its side. Streaks and handprints of neon paint smeared against formerly clean, white walls.

They spoke to the unis on the scene, who reported what they saw when they responded to the call. Most kids had already left by the time they arrived, but when they walked in they found a dozen wasted kids in their underwear. Pictures from cell phones and interviews with the building's staff seemed to indicate an attendance of over two-hundred kids. Besides the alcohol, the unis found marijuana, cocaine, and ecstasy in the premises.

Seven of the twelve teenagers were downstairs getting their work-ups done by the paramedics while Munch and Fin questioned them. Three teenagers were found passed out on the living room floor and were now being carried out by paramedics.

"There are two more upstairs in one of the bedrooms," explained the officer. "Male and female; they were found naked."

Olivia exchanged a look with her partner just as she felt that knot in her stomach tighten. "We need to get them to a hospital, get a tox screen and a rape kit."

"They're really out of it right now. Paramedics are up there with them, but they'll take them to Presbyterian as soon as possible."

The front door swung open and Olivia and Elliot stood in shock as ADA Rafael Barba stormed inside.

4 hours earlier

Sitting on the sidewalk chowing down on some Mediterranean street meat was not how he imagined his night panning out. Nick also didn't expect to meet Mandy – this blonde stranger who still avoided answering his questions about how she ended up at his party. Instead, she steered their conversation over to food stands and food trucks. They listed down their favorites, finding some common ground near City Hall and the Supreme Court.

"Either one of your parents lawyers?" Nick asked.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "My mom's a detective."

"Really?" His eyes widened. "That's pretty badass."

Amanda laughed, "she's been called that several times."

After wolfing down their falafels and exchanging hilarious stories of bizarre encounters in the subway, Amanda took Nick's hand and pulled him up from the sidewalk. They walked eastward down Warren Street and cut through the City Hall Park Path. Then Amanda took him north as hey talked for over an hour about everything from music to Netflix originals to nostalgic pop culture references. In the span of time they were talking, Nick felt like he had known her forever without actually knowing anything about her.

Sure, he knew her name was Mandy; but he didn't know where she was from or why she had just decided to take him on this excursion across the city. All Nick knew was that he could laugh and be himself around her. There was something about her that made him breathe easy.

He spotted the Citi bikes parked along the street.

"How far is this place you're taking me to?"

"Just a hundred or so miles up north," she teased, casting him a wicked grin, "why?"

Nick lowered his head and smiled, hoping the warmth he felt in his cheeks wasn't showing through his skin. "I have an idea." He walked over to the Citi bikes and swiped his credit card twice to unlock two bikes.

As they rode the blue bikes up Bowery and then Third Avenue, Nick and Amanda couldn't stop laughing and enjoying their careless evening. The autumn breeze brushed against their skin. The wind streamed through Amanda's golden hair, and Nick was spellbound by her beauty. And it wasn't just her pretty face, her bright blue eyes, or her smile that could render him speechless; there was just something about her spirit that captivated him. He wanted to know more.

But as the clocks turned and time advanced, the greater her mystery became. And he wanted to unearth that mystery and peel off the layers.

Nick pedaled faster as his heart raced, shooting past Amanda. They weren't doing anything wrong. She was just a stranger he met at a party. It wasn't like he was cheating on Maria. They were just eating street food, riding bikes, sharing stories, and having a laugh. It was purely innocent. But the more he tried to rationalize his actions and the more he tried to convince himself that what he was doing was normal, the stronger he felt the guilt rising in his chest. The faster he pedaled, the faster he could physically distance himself from her, and the faster he could separate himself from the idea that this was a girl worth pursuing.

Amanda was yelling something at him from behind, and he looked over his shoulder to see her eyes widen and her mouth open.

"Watch out!" He heard two separate voices. Nick turned back forward to see a man walking his dog, and he was headed straight for their direction. He quickly swerved and nearly fell over but managed to brake with his feet just in time. He panted as the man marched away, berating him for not watching where he was going. Amanda rode up next to him and braked.

"I tried to warn you," she said between breaths. "But you were in the zone."

"Huh? Sorry." Nick straightened the bike and got back on to join Amanda, this time at a more relaxed pace. She continued to talk, mostly about how much she dreaded this homecoming dance her school was hosting in November. She glanced at him sideways and shook her head. "You probably don't give a shit about what I'm saying."

"No, I do…" He smiled reassuringly. "You're entertaining when you rant."

She biked right up next to him to nudge him on the shoulder. "You deserved that, Nick." Biting her lip, Amanda pedaled faster to hide the blush in her cheeks.

When they finally made it to their destination, Amanda led Nick down an alleyway. He looked around to make sure there was no one following them. She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Relax. We're safe."

He arched a brow, but resisted arguing with her and instead followed her up the fire escape. It was an eight-story brick building that housed a bodega and a Chinese restaurant on the first floor, and some apartments and offices in the upper floors.

Once they reached the rooftop, Nick looked around at the view of the city. They weren't too high up, so it wasn't spectacular or tourist-worthy, but he could see the Chrysler and the Empire State buildings in the distance, and the top of the Freedom Tower when he looked south. The sound of cars was still heard from the street below, but there was a peacefulness about this place. Amanda pulled out two lawn chairs from a shed and laid them out near the edge of the rooftop.

"How'd you even find this place?"

Amanda flipped open her pack of smokes. She placed a cigarette between her lips but didn't light it. "I used to live downstairs when I was a kid. I barely remember anything from that time – don't even remember the name of my foster parents."

Nick furrowed his brows and tried to read her deadpan expression.

"I just remember going up here with my foster mom to hang up the laundry on the clothesline. Sometimes, we'd go up here so she could escape her husband… at least for an hour or two." She flicked the lighter and pressed the flame to the end of the cigarette hanging off her lips. "Who knows what they're doing now… if they're even still married… if he hasn't landed himself in prison yet."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

Amanda's lips turned up into a small smile and she shook her head. "No, he was actually great with kids, believe it or not," she said nonchalantly as if being a decent dad could make up for hitting a woman. "He couldn't find work though, so that's why social services took me away." She leaned back on the chair and took a long drag of her cigarette.

"You said this was the perfect place," Nick started, "why?"

"I don't know… I guess I just feel safe here."

4 hours later

Rafael came to a standstill once he got a full view of the loft. It was worse than he imagined, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he wouldn't have to be here to witness his ex-wife's reaction.

Thankfully, the phone call that would have woken him up that morning had only interrupted his sleepless coffee-making ritual. He had lain in bed for hours, alternately thinking about his open cases and what it would be like living with his teenage son. He had gone from practicing closing arguments in his head to visualizing himself and his son passing each other in the apartment like ships in the night.

The 4AM phone call was from his ex-wife, who relayed the information from the NYPD, who informed her there was an unsupervised party at her house where children as young as 15 were drinking and using drugs. She needed to come down to the station to give her statement. But Isabella was all the way up in Long Island and she had promised brunch with her girl friends so in no uncertain terms was she eschewing brunch to speak with the police. She ordered Rafael to handle it – after all, he worked for the city so she expected him to use his 'influence' to ensure her name and her son's were cleared from the investigation.

"Counselor," Olivia greeted, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"You're a little early, Barba. No one's been charged with anything yet," Elliot chuckled darkly.

"I'm here on behalf of the owner of the house." Rafael swallowed hard as he took in the sight around him. He took a step towards the detectives and nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Isabella Amaro is my ex-wife."

Elliot exchanged a look with Olivia before they turned back to him.

"She's in the Hamptons and she says she can't make it back until later this afternoon."

"You know anything about this party?" Elliot immediately went into interrogation mode.

"No," Rafael replied, shaking his head. "Had I known, it would never have happened."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that to protect your kid?" Elliot asked, flipping open his notebook to read the notes he acquired from the officers. "Nicholas Amaro? Your son doesn't use your last name?"

"El," Liv warned.

Rafael sighed, "it's complicated."

Elliot shrugged and continued to read off his notes. "Witnesses told the officers that he threw the party. Do you know if the drugs and alcohol were also supplied by your son?"

"El," Olivia gave her partner a harsh look before she looked sympathetically at Rafael.

"No, it's fine, detective," Barba said, raising his hand. "I understand this is protocol; but no, I was not aware of the party and I don't expect any special treatment because he is my son. Where is he? Have you questioned him?"

Elliot flipped the notebook closed and raised his eyebrows. "We actually don't know where he is. Witness accounts say the last time they saw him was around midnight."

"Let me give him a call," Rafael said, pulling his phone out of his coat. "Maybe I can reach him."

The phone rang but there was no answer. A few seconds later, a paramedic emerged from the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs. "There's a phone ringing in one of the bedrooms. I didn't touch it," he said, raising his palms up.

Elliot, Olivia and Rafael bound up the stairs into Nick's bedroom where two paramedics were giving fluids to two teenaged kids. The teenagers were hunched over and had blankets draped around their bodies. There were bottles littering the floor amidst all the boxes, which reminded Rafael of the sobering reality that his kid – the one who was responsible for this mess – was moving in with him..

With a gloved hand, Olivia crouched down by the side table and picked up the phone that flashed Rafael's number as the last missed call.

They talked on the rooftop for hours and the conversation probably wouldn't have ended if it hadn't been for the phone call from Wes. "Get your ass over here," he summoned her over the phone, "you swore you'd meet us at Claire's apartment."

Nick and Amanda rode the Citi bikes back to Tribeca and parked it at the nearest station. It was a strange turn of events, especially for Nick, but he welcomed the change. For the last few years, he felt so stuck in the routine of his life. Everything was so planned out from academics to extracurricular activities to what university he was going to. Harvard, obviously. His mom wouldn't have it any other way. Even his relationship seemed like an arranged marriage; his mom represented Maria's dad's company in a case two years ago. They celebrated the win (and the termination of thousands of unionized workers) over dinner, while Mr. and Mrs. Grazie encouraged Nick to date their only daughter. They had paid Isabella's legal fees, but apparently they wanted to throw in a dowry with it.

This spontaneous night with Amanda was like a breath of fresh air. Casting a sideways glance at the blonde, Nick just wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her, and feel as carefree and unbothered as he did that night. But deep in his gut, he knew it was wrong. He had a girlfriend passed out in his bed and a party to clean up when he returned home.

Nick walked with Amanda to the nearest subway. She took one step down the green stairs and looked over her shoulder. "I'll see you soon," she said, even though neither one of them had remembered to exchange numbers. Bounding down the stairs, she disappeared from his sight. He sighed as he felt a chill rush up his spine; turning around, Nick headed for home.

Making a sharp right around the corner, he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned on his heel, Nick felt a pair of soft lips press up against his. Although his eyes were closed, he inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and he knew it was Mandy.

When he opened his eyes, she had already whirled around, sprinting back towards the subway steps.

A wide grin spread across his face as he walked up his block. With his hands shoved into his pockets for warmth, he blew a cold breath into the air and watched the fog rise above his head. In the distance, he saw flashing red and blue lights and as he approached, the number of squad cars and ambulances seemed to multiply.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as his legs carried him faster towards his building.

As soon as he got to the door, the concierge pointed him out to one of the officers. Heads turned and there was chatter exchanged through the radios. Two officers approached him before he could even get halfway through the lobby. After being told that detectives were upstairs to ask him questions, Nick swallowed hard and followed as two officers escorted him upstairs. They didn't cuff him, but he still felt restrained and he didn't like feeling like he had lost control. He lowered his head as the officers opened the door to the loft; part of him just didn't want to see the damage caused.

Slowly, he lifted his head and it wasn't the paint on the walls or the broken glass on the floor that had captured his attention first. It was the figure standing in the middle of the room.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

AN: What did you think? If you're here for Barson, don't worry we'll get there eventually. Until then, expect there to be some interesting encounters between Barba, Cassidy, and even Elliot in the near future. Please share your thoughts and reviews :)