A/N: I don't own any of these wonderful characters. R&R!
December 2nd, 2016 – 7:15 p.m.
Yelling was never a good sign.
Especially when it was Barba, hands splayed out on the table as he leaned forward and all but told the other person on the other end of the speaker where he could shove his plea deal and spend the rest of eternity.
But Liv cracked a smile because it was downright hilarious when the uptight lawyer got so angry his normally poised and calm (as calm as he could be anyway) demeanor broke. It only happened a few times before and, depending on the situation, she had a good chuckle afterwards.
"Someone hasn't had their seventh cup of coffee," she quipped from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a file in one hand. It was late in the day and Carmen had long left, not willing to pull the late shifts her boss was used to.
"No, I have. I just have an incredibly low tolerance for bullshit and newly minted defense attorney's. Witness statements?"
Liv nodded and passed them to him as he sat at his desk, noticing the plethora of notes and case files spread out across his desk. A few empty coffee cups sat perched on thick law texts and she inspected them to see if they were empty before dumping them in his wastebasket.
"Good, good. This looks like everything…Kara sticking with the boyfriend story?"
"Her alibi checks out as well as his. We triple checked everything. Should be airtight," she remarked and took a seat, propping her feet up on the other guest chair.
"It better be. I don't need 'whatshisnuts' getting cocky during cross," he shot back, eyeing her over the lamp that was lighting up his desk. Liv laughed and tipped her head back, feeling the exhaustion from the past few day's seep into her bones. All she wanted was a hot shower, some mommy-son time and crappy Chinese food from Chang's down the street.
Jesus, it was only Tuesday.
Luckily this case was turning out to be pretty open and shut. Not much had gone wrong, other than a shaky outcry and a few inconsistencies, this would be a winner for sure. Something Barba desperately needed after the past few cases turned out to be less than cooperative. A shitty plea deal on one and an acquittal on the other.
"I'm calling you to the stand tomorrow. First thing, so be here by 8 a.m."
Liv sighed, "I hope you don't mind seeing your best friend that early. Lucy has an exam in the morning, so Noah's going to have to tag a long."
Barba cracked a rare smile at the mention of the boy's name. Over the past few years, the interaction between the two was limited but every time they were in the same room, it was like watching a circus act. Barba was awkward as all get out around Noah, not having any experience with kids, but they were drawn to each other in a weird sort of way.
Liv wouldn't ever admit it, but she found it especially endearing that someone as cool and calculating as the ADA in front of her could be so playful and child-like when he wanted to be. She could only imagine what her colleagues would think if they ever saw that side to him.
"That's fine with me. As long as you're not late. Not. Late."
"I get it," she bit back, annoyed but her words followed by a laugh. They shared a laugh together and she stood up, stretching and feeling her joints pop in the most relieving of ways. She needed to make another appointment with her chiropractor soon. These past couple of weeks had been filled with a lot of sitting at her desk and looking over reports, leaving her with a stiff back and neck.
"Well," she sighed and looked to the ADA, who was staring at her rather intently, "I'm going to take off. I have dinner and movie date with my favorite guy."
"Ah, how is Tucker doing? Brooklyn treating him well?"
"Uh, Tucker and I aren't really seeing each other anymore. Beginning yesterday, actually."
Barba looked surprised for a split second before he apologized, doing his best to hide the smile she knew he was. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.
"Try not to look so damn happy. I know you didn't like him and he wasn't exactly fond of you either. It was mutual and no hard feelings."
"Look, I'm just glad Tucker and I don't have to suffer awkward meetings in your office anymore. It'll make annoying you about search warrant criteria that much more fun."
Liv shot him a look over her shoulder as she made her way to his office door. Of course he found it fun to annoy her and he was exceedingly good at it.
"8 a.m."
"On the dot," he reminded, nodding as a goodbye and watching her leave through the open blinds covering his office windows, suddenly feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion settle over his form.
By the time he was actually done it was nearing 9:30 and his eyes were burning. The light on his desk was burning hot and the fresh coffee cup he refilled an hour ago was actually the scotch he had hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk. Drinking at work didn't happen often, but when it did, it was for good reason.
He flipped the file closed and shoved it in his overturned briefcase along with all of his other necessary papers he would need for the morning. He stood on shaky legs, noting the fact that his stomach rumbled and groaned for the food he'd denied himself in favor of work. Probably not a good thing only consume coffee, scotch and the occasional burrito or donut from the food cart parked a few blocks down. His diet was lacking in everything, but such was the life of a workaholic.
He loved his job though and loved working with SVU and the detectives he dared to call friends. Not that he would ever tell them that. There were just some things that people didn't need to know about him and those were his feelings.
Jeez, since when had he turned into an unfeeling, cynical bastard?
On more than one occasion he had turned down the invitations for drinks at a dirty sports bar with them. Turned down invitations for friendly dinners that didn't deal with their latest case. He offered no friendly commentary when Fin cracked a joke or a smile when Rollins made Carisi look like an idiot, whether it be intentionally or not.
Barba wasn't a team player and he, with the exception of Liv (and God only knew he didn't want to go into detail about that particular relationship at this time of night), he worked alone.
Alone.
A five letter word that used to fill him with joy and contentment. And now? Now he just felt like an old, salty bastard with nothing but his phone to keep him company at night.
Of course, that could be rectified by the dating scene. Although he didn't want to risk any of his colleagues or future victims and clients to see on some phone app. It would be far too risky and way too embarrassing and he feared he was too out of touch with social networking.
Beyond all of that, he had no patience. Any person he would be even remotely interested in would lose interest quick with his tendency to overwork and shut out the rest of the world. No one would understand his need to do this job and bring wrongdoers to justice. The only person who could probably understand it was already taken.
"I need another drink," he mumbled to himself tiredly. This wasn't the time nor place to delve further into this train of thought. He needed to eat bad fast food, take a hot shower and sleep for four hours before he started again.
He collected his suit jacket and piled on gloves, his thick winter coat and scarf to fend off the cold wind blowing through the city. If he was lucky, he could make it all the way back to his apartment before the flurries turned into thick snowflakes that were supposed to coat the streets by the morning.
It was a quick trip down to a small burger joint that he shamelessly frequented. The friendly waitress knew his order by heart and always knocked an extra 20% off. He figured it was because the elderly woman found him quite handsome and charming.
"Thanks Ethel," he smiled, handing over his bill and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. The burger and fries he slammed down in record time didn't do anything for his energy. God, he was having visions of his king size bed and Egyptian cotton sheets. Expensive sheets he planned on burrowing under in less than an hour.
"You look tired, sweet pea," Ethel said, taking her time in making his change. Barba's lip curled briefly but shrugged his shoulders.
"Just work. I have court early in the morning."
"You work too much. You need to take a break," the old woman practically demanded as she shut the register. She sounded like his mother who he really needed to call soon. Her text message she sent a day ago asking him if he was still alive made him feel more than a little like shit.
"I'll take a break when I'm dead."
Ethel scoffed and gave him 'the look' all elderly women seemed born with. It brought back memories of when his abuelita would give him the same look after he did something he wasn't supposed to. He missed her…
"Don't work yourself too hard. You seem sad and lonely all of the time, dear."
Barba heard enough and now he was itching to get away from this conversation and keep some of his dignity. He appreciated the concern from a relative stranger, but he didn't want anyone's pity.
"I'll keep that in mind. See you around, Ethel," he said calmly, a smile and he walked out, prepared for the short walk back to his apartment. Unfortunately, the blistering wind that picked up couldn't blow away the words that stuck to him. Try as he might, he couldn't help but agree.
Maybe a nice vacation would help? But flying off to some tropical paradise for the holiday's and staring at the empty airplane seat next to him, or the left side of his expensive hotel suite would only wind him up in some high end bar, nursing a bottle of scotch and watching happy couples dance the night away. He did that enough in the city…but maybe it would feel better on an island?
"I hate myself sometimes," he muttered and pushed into the lobby of his apartment building, nodding briefly at Stanley, the doorman. From there, it was a short trek up to his apartment, thankful the elevator and hallway leading to his door was abandoned. His neighbors were far too friendly and chatty for his liking.
Once inside his apartment, he shucked off his coat and hung it on the rack beside the door along with his shoes, keeping them tucked together neatly, much like everything else in his apartment. It was a small two bedrooms, sparsely decorated and smelled almost brand new since he barely ever spent time there. The furniture was in mint condition, the kitchen looked virtually untouched and his bed was cold most nights.
His apartment lacked life and he was sick of it.
He shuffled into the kitchen, opting for a beer instead of his usual strong scotch or whiskey and popped the top, leaving it on the counter before taking a swig. It wasn't nearly as strong as he wanted it to be, but he needed to be up in a few hours for court and he would damned before he showed up hungover and disheveled. He had way more class than that.
He turned the corner of his kitchen, halfway down the hallway to his bedroom when he heard the sudden heavy thumping of someone banging on his door. It made him jump, spilling a bit of his beer on the hardwood and he cursed. He scanned his watch, noting how late it was and how unusual it was for him to even have a visitor in the first place.
"Mom, I swear," he muttered, thinking it must have been his sometimes overbearing but well-meaning mother dropping into check on him. But when he opened the door, he found himself flat on his back a second later with a throbbing pain shooting through his head, unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
He choked on a surprised breath and scrambled back a bit, his socked feet desperately trying to find purchase on the smooth floors, acting on instinct alone.
Above him stood three dark figures, wearing ski masks and holding various weapons that didn't look like decoration. The distant sound of his apartment door slamming shut was overshadowed by the heavy footsteps surrounding him. The men, based on their build, were menacingly inching towards him, one with a baseball bat tightening his grip while the other two merely peered down at him.
"Wha-"
That was all he could get out before the man wielding the bat landed a blow to his midsection, forcing him to cry out in pain. He turned on his side, grabbing at his side and making a futile attempt at bear crawling away from the men. A rough, raspy voice called out to him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Another hard hit to his back pushed the air from his lungs, his chest seizing in pain and he couldn't breathe for a few heart stopping moments. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears as his vision began to blur, the likelihood that he was probably going to die came rushing to him all at once.
Shit, he was going to die.
"No lo mates."
"Puede tomar un golpe."
Coughing and gasping in lung fulls of air, Barba found himself being pulled up by the back of his vest, arms holding him up on weak legs. A gloved hand grabbed a handful of hair and tugged his head back, the cold, pointed steel of a knife drawing across his throat from one ear to another.
"Do you know who we are?"
Barba shook his head slightly, afraid of the knife still sitting on delicately on his neck. It would only take one smooth motion for the knife to slice his throat open.
The room grew completely silent save for his heavy breathing. It was another few seconds before the man holding his hair in a painful handful with the knife pressed against his neck spoke again.
"You're about to find out."