II:

"How's your head?" Barba asked, gesturing.

Olivia shrugged and resisted the urge to tuck her hair back behind her ear, instead letting it fall over her face and hide more of the bruises and open scrapes. "It's fine," she dismissed.

"You did get it looked at, I assume?" he asked as their drinks arrived – a scotch on the rocks for him, a bottle of craft beer for her.

She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, they wouldn't let me back into the station until I got checked out at the hospital and got cleared by the ER," Olivia said, picking at the edge of the label on her beer. "No concussion, no brain bleed, no brain bruising… my face looks like shit, but when doesn't it?" she joked lamely. "Really, Counselor, I'm fine."

"Good," he said, taking a swig of his scotch. "The least of what I'm charging that prick with is felony assault of a police officer."

She flinched and let out a small, unladylike snort. "I'm sure beating up a cop is the least of his worries," Olivia said. "He raped two women – that we know of – and sexually assaulted at least three others."

"And you went after him without adequate backup –"

"I didn't know he was –"

"You aren't invulnerable, Detective," Barba snapped, his voice lowering dangerously. "Mandville pistol whipped you and knocked you into a brick wall – I don't know how you subdued him after enduring that…"

"I kneed him in the balls," she said simply, "and when he went down, I cuffed him. I can handle myself, Barba –"

"He had a gun, Benson!"

"So did I," she reminded him.

He huffed and finished his scotch, signaling the bartender for another. "You going to drink that beer or just stare at it till it gets warm?" Barba raised an eyebrow and loosened his tie just a little bit – it was a navy and burgundy brocade silk tie against a blue and white striped shirt – and she could swear he was smirking at her just a little bit.

"I have a little bit of a headache," she admitted.

"No doubt," he said, the hint of a smile disappearing. "Do you have anything to take? I have some aspirin in my –"

"They gave me stuff at the ER, but I don't want to take it till I get home," Olivia said. "It's pretty heavy duty. And I'm not working tomorrow, so I can take it and sleep in."

"The offer of aspirin still stands," he said, reaching down for his briefcase. It wasn't even thirty seconds before she found two pills pressed into her hand and a worried, sad smile on his lips.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked after she'd swallowed the pills down with her beer, nearly gagging on the taste. "I mean… everyone makes you out to be this god-awful vicious asshole, and you're really not that bad."

Barba laughed and said, "You've known me for all of five minutes, Detective."

"I don't know: it's been three days and you haven't crucified me yet," she teased softly, fiddling with her beer bottle some more. She looked up and made eye contact with him for the first time since she'd slid onto her barstool and smiled just a little. He was looking at her with concern and something more intense – oh, those green eyes were something else altogether, boring into her, making her warm and tingly – lurking just beneath the surface, but he broke the spell first, glancing away with a nervous chuckle.

"Crucifixion is out of my purview, Detective: we prefer lethal injection nowadays if we're going for public executions," he replied. "So… you think you'll be up for testifying for the grand jury?"

"Always," she said firmly.

"Good – I'll need to get your number so I can give it to Sheri, in case we move up the time. I'm hoping for day after tomorrow, first thing in the morning, but it's also possible we'll get the 5pm slot tomorrow with Judge MacArthur. Either way, we'll need to let you know." He gestured to her drink. "Finish up: you've got a long train ride back if you're taking the 2 back to Manhattan."

She smiled a lopsided grin at him. "Yeah, it's a bit of a way," she agreed, "but the 2 lets me off right by my apartment."

"Really?" he said with a raised brow.

"I'm off 7th Avenue," she said casually, deliberately leaving off the cross street. "So it's not exactly inconvenient. But it still takes a while to get around."

"Can I get you to the subway station?" he suggested.

Olivia smiled and said, "You're very sweet, Counselor."

He wrinkled his nose. "Don't ever tell anyone that. Please."

"Who would ever believe me?" she scoffed, chuckling. "After all, they all think you're El Tiburón, don't they?"

"And you don't."

"No," she said softly, studying him for a long moment as he paid the check and gathered up his briefcase and jacket. "No, I don't."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Detective Benson, but I'm afraid that I'm usually not such good company. In fact, I'm sure half the precinct would gladly throw me directly under a bus as soon as actually see me win a case."

"Maybe not half the precinct," she said, "but a good solid handful."

"But not you."

"No, not me – at least not yet." She slung her crossbody over her shoulder and stuffed her hands into her pockets, showing off her holster and badge as she did. "I reserve my right to full judgement till later, though."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint a lady," Barba retorted. Once they were out on the sidewalk, he offered her his arm and she hesitated for a moment before she took it. "So… out of any department in the NYPD, why SVU?"

"Ah," Olivia said, clearing her throat and leaning into him a little. If she squinted a little and crossed her eyes, she could imagine for a moment that she was on a date, not walking to the subway with a work colleague – just a little too closely for comfort, just a little too intimately, just a little too longingly – and damn if she didn't like the way it felt. "It's a long story. And it's not really my story to tell." She sighed softly and thought of her mother, of the way she had spiraled out of control for so long, of how the system had failed her so spectacularly, and how she had already spent so many years fighting to make changes so other women weren't facing quite the same demons… And yet, every day, she saw herself in the mirror and knew all too well the price of failure. She was the ultimate failure. "What about you, Barba?"

He rolled his eyes and gestured dismissively with the briefcase in his left hand. "Ah, ya know, same old sad song: Cubano brat in El Barrio, determined to rise above the dirt and the poverty. Went to Harvard and now my shit doesn't stink." His words were tinged with bitterness and more than a little bit of self-chiding derision, but she knew he had struggled with something far worse than he was letting on. And he kept that part of himself hidden away from everyone, locked away – the key long gone.

"I'm not entirely sure that's how that works," she said with a chuckle.

"Isn't it? I mean, I'm having dinner on Saturday with the UN delegate from Brazil because he wants to invite me to his holiday house for New Years – which of course, I'll have to decline because I'll be working on cases right and left, as usual, but it's nice to get the invite," he smirked. "He was my roommate second year of undergrad, not anything nefarious, mind you."

"Wouldn't dream of thinking anything bad of you, Barba," Olivia replied wryly.

They came up to the subway station and he said, "Look…"

"Thank you for the beer," she interjected.

"Benson, I don't want you to think that –"

"Anything inappropriate is happening?" she interjected, tightening her hold on his arm just a little. "You've been nothing but kind and appropriate. Gentlemanly, even."

He exhaled, the sound louder than he meant it to be. "Yes… well…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." He released her from his hold and carefully tucked her hair back to look at her face. "You'll want to get some ice on those bruises and put some ointment on the scrapes –"

"I know," she murmured. He was so close – so very close – that if they only moved a tiny bit more, took another little chance… His fingertips were warm on her skin, and she wondered if they would be so warm on the rest of her body – if he would know the way to play her like a delicate instrument to best effect, to pull the sweetest music from her lips as they…

Damn him, she was actually blushing under the fucking streetlights.

"You'd better get home so those good drugs can get to work," he said, his brows knitting together with concern. Up so close, she could see the small lines in the corners of his eyes, the bit of fat in his jowls, the smile lines that he so rarely exercised, preferring to frown or display that intense concern. "Here, give me your number in case we need you for that testimony –"

She dutifully put her contact information into his phone, and he texted her so she could add his to hers. "Again, thank you for the beer –"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Next time, though, we'll have to get something more substantial. I feel a little peckish. Maybe you should get something to eat on your way home?"

"Oh, I'll grab something," she promised, shifting her bag a little bit as someone jostled her on their way down the stairs into the station. Barba frowned and pulled her back for a moment, just a moment, and then released her entirely. "I – well – goodnight, Counselor. Thank you, again."

She headed down the grimy steps into the subway, past all the graffiti and posters of the President St. entrance, and wondered if he had been about to kiss her when he'd let her go completely. No use dwelling on it when the moment was over and done, but the evening had been filled with small cues that had left her reeling, wondering, hoping…

Only to be left alone in the subway, heading back to Manhattan with a hell of a headache.

She tried not to think about how terrible she actually felt, instead stopping to grab a sandwich and juice at the all-night market on her walk home, and found her partner sitting on the steps outside her building. "Hey, Liv," Elliot said with a tired smile.

"Hey," she said, letting her hair fall back in her face again. "It's been a long day – can I call you tomorrow?"

"I heard you got injured on duty today – I was just…"

"Checking to make sure I'm still alive?" she shot back. "I really don't have to have someone watching my back all the time, El. I promise."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You good?"

She tucked her hair back. "I'm fine," Olivia said firmly.

"Shit, Liv –"

"It looks worse than it is – just bruises and scrapes," she promised. "Barba's throwing the book at the perp, starting with felony assault on a police officer."

"Fuck, I'd beat the ever-loving shit out of him if I was in the interrogation room with him – what the fuck was that son of a bitch thinking, going after you like that?" Elliot growled, getting closer and examining her face. "Do you think he would have attacked you if you'd been unconscious after –"

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" she shot back. "I incapacitated and cuffed him, and then I went to the hospital to get checked out. It's fine, Elliot – I'm fine."

"I worry about you down there with no one to look out for you," he grumbled.

She wasn't about to tell him that Rafael Barba seemed to disprove that notion; not only would she never hear the end of it, but her partner would probably cruise on down to Brooklyn in the dark and lay some Stabler-style justice on the Executive ADA just for looking at her just so. "Elliot, I told you: I'm a big girl. Hell, I outshot you on the last firearms certification. This," she gestured at her face, "was just a case of bad timing. Now, I'm going inside, eating this sandwich and taking my medicine so I can get some sleep. You need to go home."

He heaved a grunting sigh. "Yeah, I guess. Are you sure –"

"El. I'm good." She rolled her eyes and went upstairs to her apartment, glad that it was at least quieter than normal in the building. She ate quickly and took her meds, shooting off a quick text to Barba as she ate.

Got home in one piece. My partner heard I got hurt and he was waiting on my stoop so ain't I got fun.

She had settled into bed in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top when his reply came.

Take your medicine and go to sleep. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.

Tomorrow was a promise she always made to herself: tomorrow, she would do the things she didn't feel like she could handle today. Tomorrow, she would face the things she couldn't face. Tomorrow, she would dig in and hold on. Tomorrow, she would be braver than she was.

Tomorrow, she would take what she wanted, and give everything… if only he dared to want her in return.

TBC...