XIX:

When Cragen had offered him a hotel room, Rafael hadn't protested, just taken the reservations at the place and crashed for a few hours while waiting to hear anything about the investigation. He'd called his mother back from Miami, citing the chaos and being unable to deal with everything between his grandmother and his wife as the reason, feeling guilty that he couldn't unclench his stomach enough to do much beyond drink coffee and the occasional smoothie.

McCoy had, understandably, given him emergency leave, and Rafael had called his usual people to get a few suits delivered to his tailor for quick alterations and when he said why, there had been wholesale discounts applied and strings pulled that he wasn't sure he was qualified for – but the destruction of half his wardrobe because it happened to be in the apartment was sobering. The other half, thank god, was safely stored at the brownstone, but for a short time, he needed easily accessible new things.

He hated being practical when he had no idea where Olivia was and whether or not she was even alive. He hated thinking that she might be dead already. He hated that he would gladly rip William Lewis limb from limb if only it would save his beloved a more dastardly fate.

Religion had been a thing that he'd gone through the motions of for so long that it was rote and didn't really mean anything; after all, his father had been a "good Catholic", and had had been a vicious abuser and had not walked the path of any kind of morality, and he had prosecuted so many monsters who hid behind their morals and religion like a shield… And yet, he felt that now might be the time to pray for Olivia's safety. To make amends to a God he hardly believed in and barely knew to exist in his heart – he only knew for certain that a higher power existed because how else could such a woman have walked into his life and loved him? – in order to bargain for his love's life.

So he was crumpled in a shitty hotel chair, curtains pulled against the light outside, after having been on the phone with his letting agent to clear the renters out of the brownstone by the end of the week, silently begging God to just let Liv be alive. He didn't know what he was going to do if she wasn't.

He didn't know how long he'd been there when his phone rang. "Barba," he croaked.

"Hey. We've got a lead," Fin said. "A strong lead. You're riding with me. I'll pick you up – where you at?"

"The hotel," Rafael said. "Best Western South Midtown."

"Eeeurgh," Fin muttered. "CSU better clear your apartment fast, man –"

"The renters were moving out of my house on Monday anyway, so we just moved the date to Saturday," Rafael sighed. "We'll need furniture, but that's what my black card is for –"

"And we'll put out a fundraiser," Fin promised. "None of this is on you, Barba. You know that."

"Do I? I didn't get him locked away –"

"Man, you did your job. The jury was full of… I dunno. It's not on you, Barba. We're gonna find Liv, okay? We're gonna find her and she's gonna be okay."

"I've been praying, Fin," Rafael said quietly. "I'm not sure I can believe in a god that would allow that man to get away with all of these things and take Olivia in exchange –"

"You can't think shit like that," Fin growled. "She's gonna have his balls on a platter. You hear me? Liv's tougher than any of us."

He was kept back from the house, safe in his bulletproof vest, until Fin declared over the walkie that they were coming out. Cragen let him move closer then, but even as Fin and Liv emerged from the house, Rafael could see from a distance that she wasn't right. He hung back until after she was hooked up to an IV and the EMTs were beginning to do some basic tests before he called her name.

Her response was immediate; she rolled toward him on the gurney and reached for him. Rafael immediately grabbed her hand tightly and argued with the EMTs that he was her husband and he wasn't going anywhere unless she told him to – and as her lawyer and a representative of the DA's office, he told them exactly what they would need to do at the hospital.

But he never released his hold on her hand and he kept assuring her that he wasn't going anywhere. He had already fucked up badly enough – botching the case against Lewis in the first place and letting him back on the streets to do god only knew what to Olivia and…

Once safely in the back of the ambulance and on the way to the hospital, he said very softly, "I am so sorry, mi amor –"

Her eyes were unfocused and tired as she gazed at him. "You didn't do this, Rafa. William Lewis did."

He gestured at the EMT to look at her. "Why is she like this?" he asked.

"Gave me a pill and vodka before I…" Her voice trailed off and she jerked herself back. "I feel floaty."

"Her blood alcohol is near toxic level, and until we do a tox panel in the ER, we won't know what drugs are in her system," the EMT said.

"Best guess?" Rafael snarled.

"It was little and pink," Liv said.

"Yeah, that's not helpful."

"Sorry I didn't ask the fucking psychopath what drugs he was shoving down my throat," Liv said, yawning. "I'm getting tired –"

"No, no, no," Rafael said sharply, "Olivia, you stay awake – we'll be at the hospital in just a few minutes. Don't you give up now."

She frowned at him and he sighed. "Rafa – "

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

"You can tell me anything," she whispered.

"I'm a little scared of you, Olivia Benson – I'm really glad you love me."

"Only a little?" she slurred, her eyelids drooping shut.

"Hey – Livvie, mi amor, open those big brown eyes for me," Rafael pleaded.

"Her BP is spiking," the EMT said as the ambulance pulled to a stop. The doors burst open and several people began working to get the gurney out of the back of the bus and Rafael hurried along with it, only to be shoved out of the way and separated from her as she went back into the ER.

An ER nurse gently said, "Sir – if you could come this way, please –"

"No, I need to be with my wife –" he argued.

"They need to stabilize her and perform any procedures the police need done," the nurse said. "Then you'll be allowed back to see her."

He wanted to argue the point, but instead said, "Fine," and followed her to the waiting room where members of the Manhattan SVU squad and several members of the brass were beginning to trickle in. "They took her back and kicked me out," Rafael said, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Her blood pressure was spiking and something was wrong with her pulse rate. She was really out of it."

"Barba, maybe you should sit down," Cragen advised. "Rollins, why don't you go get the Counselor a cup of coffee and something to snack on to calm his nerves?"

"Thanks," Rafael said a minute later.

"Don't mention it – you get a little stressed when your blood sugar is low," Cragen pointed out with a wan smile. "And I figure we're going to be here a while. What did you think of Carisi, by the way? He's with the 125 right now, but he's going into Queens SVU next month. If he gets enough experience, he might make it to Manhattan –"

"He talks too much," Rafael sighed. "The whole way up, he wouldn't stop talking. Fin barely said anything. I didn't want to talk at all, but the kid kept asking about Olivia and if we thought she would even be… if she would be alive if we found her."

"I'm sorry, Rafael, I – I don't know what to say."

He wrang his hands in his lap and mumbled, "Of course she's alive: she's Olivia fucking Benson. She's tough as nails. She's a little bit scary."

"She was a lot scarier before she met you," Cragen said, laughing without any humor whatsoever. "Elliot brought out the worst in her, and she loved him fiercely in a way that was borderline inappropriate for the longest time. But I made a judgment call to send her to Brooklyn for a month to help out and she met this lawyer… fell in love… started softening up around the edges… I didn't know what had caused the change in her life until later, but I was definitely happy not to have to be wiping up blood and guts off IAB files every couple of days."

Rafael laughed; his laughter was genuine, though, and it rippled through his gut. "I love her so much," he said, wiping away the tears that had gathered in his eyes and had begun to trickle down his cheeks despite how hard he fought to keep them at bay.

"And she loves you," Cragen replied, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. "She's going to need you more than ever, Barba, to get through this."

"I know," he said very quietly.

Rollins came back with a cup of coffee and a bag of Goldfish crackers. "Olivia said you really like these," she said lamely. "I can get something else if you –"

"No, Goldfish are fine," Rafael assured her, taking a sip of the black coffee.

He helped Liv settle back into her hospital bed and tucked her covers back around her. "They're sending a plastic surgeon in later for a consult," Rafael said gently.

"I don't need a plastic surgeon," Olivia muttered.

"Mi amor, you're going to need skin grafts for some of the burns – they just want to make sure that you'll heal as well as you can," he reasoned gently, trailing his fingertips down her arm, trying not to take it personally when she flinched away from his touch. "Liv –"

"How can you even look at me?" she whispered. "What he did –"

"Hey," he said sharply, trying to get her attention. "What he did is not on you. Do you understand me, Olivia? I love you. I am here because I love you. If you think I'm walking away because some fucking lunatic hurt you, that's just… ridiculous." She finally looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes and a blank expression on her face. "Liv, cariño, when I realized… when I knew he'd taken you… my heart stopped beating, just for a second, just a couple of beats, and I thought 'is this how it feels to die?'."

"No," she whispered. "It's… it's like a tunnel without any end, and you hear voices all around you but you can't make sense of them." She swallowed hard. "It's so much worse, Rafa, dying."

He leaned in, took her hand in his – fully expecting her to resist – and pressed his lips to her knuckles when she didn't fight him. "I am so sorry," he whispered. "So, so sorry, Olivia. This is all my fault."

"It isn't."

"I was distracted with abuelita, with running back and forth from the Bronx – I should have seen the evidence collection issue, I should have seen the jury tampering issue, I should have been able to put him away with no problems –"

"Rafael," she whispered, "it isn't your fault."

"I could have prevented –"

She shook her head and gripped his hand tightly. "Stop," Liv whispered. "Just… stop."

"I could have come home with you and –"

Her fingernails dug into his hand, drawing blood and making him cry out. "NO!" Olivia yelped.

"Liv –"

"NO," she repeated, her eyes flashing pure, unadulterated terror. "You couldn't have stopped this or changed the outcome. Please don't torture yourself thinking you could."

He let out a huff of sad, frustrated breath, then murmured, "Tucker and James from IAB will be here soon to interview you. Are you up for it?"

"Is my union delegate coming?" she asked.

He nodded. "And I'll sit in as your civil counsel if you want me to –"

She bit her lip. "I don't want you to hear it yet."

"Because you're scared I'll leave?"

"No," she whispered. "Because you'll think it's your fault. And it isn't. None of this is your fault. It's his. William Lewis did this. He chose to do this. This is not on you, Rafael."

He inhaled shakily and nodded, still not quite believing her words because they did not seem real or truthful. But he wanted to embrace them, to hold them close as gospel truth and believe them. He wanted the blame not to rest on his shoulders; it was a burden too heavy to bear.

He held her close and let her cry, all of her strength gone for the moment, all too glad to shore her up for a while.

TBC...