Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You hear about Carisi?”

Rafael has not heard anything about Carisi lately, and despite what Rollins might think, he’d prefer to keep it that way.

“What about him?”

Or not.

Rollins steps closer, like she doesn’t want anybody else at the precinct to overhear, which suggests the information is personal, and now Rafael is even less inclined to find out wh-

“You catch the front page of The Ledger this morning? Carisi’s the source.”

Rafael blinks.

“I can only assume it was inadvertent?”

Rollins makes an expression Rafael can’t deciph-

“You could say that. He’s been datin’ the reporter who wrote the story.”

Oh.

That explains it.

Some of it, anyway.

Rafael nods.

“I see. I suppose we can always trust Carisi to do something stupid and make our lives that much harder.”

Rollins gives Rafael a look, except this one is a lot easier to read.

She’s not buying what Rafael is selling, and it’s just as well. Rafael has left the insults behind, for years now, and this is not the time to revert back to that behavior.

Easy as it would be. Good as it might feel.

Rafael just hopes Rollins can’t read his own expression, he hopes she can’t see the jealousy there, because Rafael just got official confirmation that Carisi is in a relationship, and he thinks he’s allowed to be petty for the next several minut-

“Come on, Barba. He’s real broken up about it. He didn’t mean to tell her. He was just excited we found Emma Lawrence.”

Right.

“Except you didn’t. Find her.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Rollins looks haunted, just like that, and Rafael sometimes forgets she has a kid of her own now, and these cases must hit her even hard-

“No. We didn’t.”

Rafael almost apologizes for being cruel.

He doesn’t.

He knows Rollins would never let him hear the end of it. Rafael Barba, apologizing. She’d want to get it on camera.

Rafael doesn’t apologize, because whatever he might tell Rollins, whatever blame he might mistakenly place on her, Rafael knows she’s way ahead of him.  

Cops have a way of blaming themselves.

Prosecutors, they always have someone else to blame. They are lawyers, after all. Prosecutors blame the judge, or the jury, or the cops, like Rafael just did, and he really wants to apologize, still, and he d-

“That reporter, she’s the one who’s got Carisi eatin’ raw food all the time. You ever notice that, Barba?”

Rafael would thank Rollins for the change of subject, but that pettiness is rising inside him again, and h-

“Nah, of course you haven’t noticed. Why would you?”

Rafael’s nostrils flare.

Rollins looks suspiciously nonchalant, in a way she never is, because she’s always sharp and focused and she never speaks unless she has something very specific to say, and Rafael realizes she’s punishing him for what he said before.

While he may very well deserve that, Rafael doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to hear what else Rollins might have to s-

“Anyway, Carisi’s always eating peanuts for lunch, and ordering salads, and bringin’ in stray fruit from home. He’s been gettin’ on Fin’s last nerve.”

Wait a minute.

“I saw Carisi eating an entire pizza for lunch, right there on his desk, just the other week. I distinctly remember it, because I saw him use an affidavit as a napkin.”

Rollins snorts.

“Yeah, well, he says he’s been tryin’, but sometimes it’s hard to resist.”

Rafael knows the feeling.

He’s experiencing it right now.

It’s hard to resist.

“How long has that been going on, Rollins?”

Rollins narrows her eyes.

Of course she does.

She’s a detective. And a good one, too. Rafael knew her obliviousness was too much to hope for, but he had no choice. She’s the only one who would know, because she and Carisi are friends, and Rafael has no other way of finding out if this is serious of if it’s n-

“What? The raw diet?”

Rafael does not appreciate being called out like that.

Rollins is reading him like a book.

Fine.

The least she could do is pretend she didn’t already know. Rollins could at least act surprised, instead of gleeful, because she’s got Rafael begging her for scraps of information on Carisi’s personal life. If not out of friendship, then out of professional courtesy.

“Yes, Rollins. The raw diet. How long?”

Rafael truly hopes what he sees in her face is not pity.

“Hard to tell, counselor. We only found out by accident, me and Fin. Carisi never talks about her.”

He doesn’t?

Carisi, the same Carisi who gives everyone semi-regular updates on his second oldest sister’s hunt for a husband, the same Carisi who mass texts pictures of his niece dressed as an elf to the entire precinct every Christmas, the same Carisi who blathers on about the Mustang he used to save up for, and the girl he had a crush on in elementary school, and that one time he stole candy from a store when he was eight, that Carisi, doesn’t talk about the woman he’s in lov…

Rafael stops himself right there.

Pettiness is bad enough, nosiness is even worse, and the last thing he needs is to jump straight into misery.  He always does th-

“Best guess, though? Six or seven months. Come to think of it, isn’t that around the time you and him started yellin’ at each other?”

Rafael does not yell.

He does, however, know this is not the hill he wants to die on. Not right now. He doesn’t need to give Rollins more ammo by being defensive, and pedantic, and pointing out that Carisi started yelling at him almost a year ago.

Rafael just rolls his eyes and hopes it’s convincing.

“Will that be all, Rollins? Or do you have more irrelevant gossip to share?”

Rollins silently calls bullshit on ‘irrelevant,’ with a raise of her left eyebrow that’s so subtle Rafael is instantly envious of it, and then she steps even closer.

Which is a little disconcert-

“Just for the record, Barba, Carisi didn’t look happy this morning. He confronted her, soon as the paper hit the stands. She denied using him as a source, but he said he didn’t buy it. I mean, it is a hard sell. That early in the investigation, there was only so many people who knew, and I sure as hell didn’t tell her. So… It’s not lookin’ so hot. Between ‘em. If it’s any consolation.”

It is, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Why would that be a consolation, Rollins?”

Rollins bites her top lip, clearly trying not to laugh, and Rafael wants to kick himself.

“Why would I need consolation?”

Rollins laughs.

She literally laughs in Rafael’s face, and it’s a quiet laugh, it’s at a low, work-appropriate volume, but she’s standing so close she might as well be cackling. Rafael almost reprimands her for her imaginary lack of decorum, but he says nothing, because she’s right.

Of course he needs consolation.

He’s needed consolation for a long time.

Six or seven months.

Longer.

Almost a year ago.

More than a year ago.

Rollins is still laughing when Rafael turns around and walks out of the precinct, as fast as he can. It’s all he can do to retain the last shreds of dignity he mistakenly believes he still possesses.

The allocution goes as well as could be expected.

Bill Lawrence details his actions, and he expresses his anguish, even if his lack of remorse leaves something to be desired, and the Lawrence family is spared a lengthy trial, and Rafael is spared the hassle of having to devise a closing argument strong enough to convict a father who faked his own daughter’s abduction to protect his son.

The real killer.

For ten years, Bill Lawrence kept up the lie.

Rafael does not blame Karen Lawrence for storming out of the courtroom. Most days, he wishes he could do the same. At least today justice was served. At least today Rafael is not packing up his briefcase in silent fury, the faster to get out of there, because a slick defense attorney managed to sufficiently vilify a victim, or because a naïve jury fell for the charms of a predator.

Today, Rafael gathers his things leisurely, and walks out of the courtroom in slow, easy steps.

Heavy, but easy.

Rafael’s steps are always heavy.

Carisi rushed out the door.

Light on his feet.

Carisi followed Karen Lawrence outside, and Rafael can only hope he had the good sense to leave that poor woman alone, becaus-

Of course not.

Carisi, to no one’s surprise, is standing in the hallway, talking to Mrs. Lawrence.

No.

Listening.

Carisi is listening to Mrs. Lawrence, and part of Rafael feels bad for him, part of Rafael wants to step in and shield Carisi from her anger, but another part of Rafael wants to let this play out. Maybe that’s what she needs. Maybe this grief-stricken mother who just lost her entire family will get some closure if she gets to yell at the cop who dared to give her false hope.

Rafael thinks that’s a terrible thing to think.

None of this is Carisi’s fault.

Almost none of this.

They’re all to blame.

Rafael, too. He’s not blameless.

He never is.

Rafael exhales.

Rafael exhales, and then he takes a few steps in Carisi’s direction. He can’t hear what Karen Lawrence is saying, but he can see the nauseated expression on Carisi’s face.

It’s breathtaking.

The way Carisi’s pain is carved on his face.

Lines and lines of pain, cutting deep.

Rafael wonders when Carisi will finally learn to cover it up.

Never, probably.

Right now, Carisi looks like he’s about two seconds away from throwing up all over his shoes.

Rafael knows he should be looking at Mrs. Lawrence, he should be focusing on her pain, powerful and fierce and raw, but that’s not easy when Carisi looks so lost.

Carisi looks even worse than he did yesterday, and that’s when he had just recovered the real Emma’s remains.

Rafael wants to touch him.

Rafael has no right.

Still.

Rafael wants to touch him.

Rafael touched Carisi, yesterday.

Yesterday, Carisi returned to the precinct after having carried a dead child in his arms, and Rafael saw him, shoulders tense, and lips downturned, and eyes empty, and Rafael touched him.

Rafael put a hand on Carisi’s shoulder.

It was only a few seconds, and Rafael felt it was what Carisi needed, so he…

No.

It was what Rafael needed.

It’s hard, watching Carisi in pain. It’s hard not to want to comfort him, even if Rafael doesn’t really know how.

Rafael touched Carisi once before.

Twice.

In comfort.

They had just lost Dodds, and Rafael feels guilty even thinking that, because ‘they’ didn’t lose Dodds, Rafael didn’t, but Carisi did, and Carisi took it hard, and Rafael touched him.

At the precinct, after they caught Heredio. A small pat on the arm.

At the bar, after the funeral. A lingering touch on the wrist.

Rafael thinks this is his own fault.

He started it.

Rafael doesn’t touch people.

A touch is an invitation, and Rafael doesn’t let anyone in.

Doesn’t want anyone in.

Rafael touches Carisi.

Rafael touched Carisi, once before, twice, and Carisi tried to make his way inside.

Yesterday, Rafael touched Carisi, Rafael squeezed Carisi’s shoulder, pointy and bony and warm, and Carisi didn’t look up, but his body sagged in a good way, and Rafael can’t believe that distinction was so glaringly clear.

Rafael can’t believe he can tell when Carisi breathes out in pain, or in relief.

He had never seen Carisi so devastated.

Right now, Carisi looks even worse.

Shattered.

Carisi looks shattered, as Mrs. Lawrence finally leaves.

Rafael doesn’t know if he should stay.

If he should approach Carisi.

Rafael almost wants to pretend he didn’t see.

He wants to give Carisi a private moment to properly wallow in self-loathing, like any public servant deserves.

They’ve all earned it.

Except Carisi spots him.

Carisi locks eyes with him, and Rafael sees the pleading, and the pain, and the nausea, and sometimes it’s hard to resist.

The more Rafael approaches, the more awkward Carisi looks.

Rafael is not cut out for this.

Rafael doesn’t know how to ask if Carisi is okay, how to ask if he can help.

So he doesn’t.

“What did she say, Carisi?”

Carisi looks down, and it makes the dark circles under his eyes all the more pronounced. His face is all shadow, and he looks half dead, and Raf-

“Sorry I didn’t drop off my case notes yesterday.”

Of course.

Carisi wants to change the subject.

Rafael doesn’t know if he should let Carisi get away with that or if he sh-

“I told Carmen I would. That’s why I… Maybe she told you. I was gonna do it, but I didn’t get around to it. I’m sorry.”

Carisi looks off, looks lost, looks apologetic to the point of apoplexy, and it’s hard not to want to comfort him.

Rafael is not cruel, so he decides to let Carisi off the hook.

For now.

“No need to apologize, detective. You had a long day.”

Carisi lets out a quiet exhale which could almost be mistaken for a laugh, at least if they weren’t talking about Carisi digging up the corpse of a dead six-year-old.

“Yeah. I’ll say. Anyway, I know you probably didn’t… I know you didn’t need the notes for today, ‘cause this was an allocution,  and Bill Lawrence gave you everything you needed, so… But still, that’s not an excuse, because I told you I’d drop them off, or… I told Carmen I would, and I didn’t, and maybe she was… Maybe she stayed late, waitin’ for me, or maybe… Maybe you were waitin’ for these notes so you could put them away and officially close the file, and… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t forget, I just d-”

“What did Karen Lawrence say to you, Carisi?”

Short of slapping Carisi in the face, this is the only thing Rafael can think of to stop Carisi from spiraling.

The pain Karen Lawrence inflicted.

Rafael isn’t even sorry.

The rambling, and the stumbling over words, and the self-flagellation, it all needs to stop, even if it’s over a forgotten notebook, because it’s not over a notebook, because it’s a slippery slope, and Carisi needs to stop before he starts blaming himself for other, more unforgivable offenses.

Carisi breathes out, and it sounds shakier than it should, shallower than it should, and Rafael can’t believe he can make that distinction either, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear Carisi was on the verge of tears.

It occurs to Rafael that maybe he doesn’t know bett-

“The truth. She said she wishes I’d never found Emma. The real one. Before all this, she said she had hope. She could pretend Emma was still out there. Alive. And now all she has is an old blanket and a dug up grave. Because of me.”

She’s right.

That’s Rafael’s first shameful thought.

Karen Lawrence is right, but Carisi was right, too. In a way. Or he was wrong for the right reasons. Carisi genuinely believed they had found Emma, and he didn’t want to deprive the Lawrences of their own child for a moment longer. Not after ten years.

They should have done a DNA test, they should have monitored ‘Emma’ more closely before sending her ‘home,’ they should have kept this out of the press, they should have done a lot of things, but they didn’t, and Carisi isn’t the only one who failed to do right by this famil-

“We should have pushed for the girl’s DNA. I should have pushed. I should have figured out the dad’s reactions were off. And Glenn? It was obvious. I should’ve seen it sooner.”

Blame.

For other, more unforgivable offenses.

“And I should have gotten you a warrant for the girl’s DNA.  But I didn’t. There’s plenty of blame to go around, Carisi. You don’t get to bogart it.”

Carisi actually cracks a smile, and Rafael feels absurdly happy he was able to chase away the nausea, and the pain, Rafael was able to put an actual smile back on Carisi’s face, where it belongs, because Carisi should always be smil-

“That wasn’t your fault, Barba.”

Wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it Rafael’s job to make sur-

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth, The Ledger wouldn’t have printed the story. Not on the front page, at least. We wouldn’t have had this media circus to deal with, and the D.A. wouldn’t have been breathin’ down your neck, and you’d have been free to work the case like you wanted.”

That’s a naïve assumption. Perhaps the media attention would have been less extreme, but a missing child is a missing child, even if it’s a cold case, and the D.A. would have still wanted to be informed of any develop-

“But, see, I couldn’t help myself. I just had to spill the beans. I just had to tell my friend, and she just had to report it. ‘Cause it was her duty to the truth, and to the readers of The Ledger. That’s what she said.”

Rafael bites the inside of his cheek.

“Your friend?”

His inflection is unmistakable.

And, even if it weren’t, Carisi is not an idiot. Much as Rafael likes to pretend otherwise.

Except Carisi looks surprised.

Carisi looks surprised, because Rafael slipped.

Rafael is not supposed to know that.

Carisi looks surprised, and then confused, and then guilty, for some godforsaken reason which feels like a punch to the gut, and Rafael has to try to maintain his composure.

After a good second or three, Carisi’s expression settles to what looks like defeat.

“Yeah, she’s… I know, I know. Which makes it even worse, huh?”

Rafael is struck by Carisi’s inability to use the term ‘girlfriend’ to refer to his actual girlfriend.

“What does?”

Carisi frowns.

“What makes it even worse, Carisi?”

Carisi stares.

“That I’m… That she’s… She was… Never mind, Barba. Never mind. I gotta go. I’ll drop off my notes later, so you can file them away. Alright? I… I gotta go.”

Carisi practically bolts, long legs taking long strides, and Rafael couldn’t catch up even if he wanted to.

Rafael slowly makes his way to the exit.

His steps are heavy.

It’s ten o’clock when Carisi shows up at Rafael’s office.

Rafael is not ashamed to admit that’s the only reason he is still there. He sent Carmen away hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

At the courthouse, Carisi said ‘later,’ and Rafael didn’t want to have to find a neatly filled notebook outside his doorstep in the morning.

Rafael wanted to see Carisi.

Tonight.

Tonight, Carisi looks a little better, a little less overwhelmed, but still not back to his old s-

“Still here, counselor? I was gonna drop these off on Carmen’s desk but then I saw the light.”

Yeah.

“You can leave them with me, Carisi.”

That’s what Rafael says.

He doesn’t ask.

It’s a stupid question, anyway. It’s obvious Carisi is not ‘okay.’

It’s also obvious that Carisi is trying.

Carisi even attempts a smile as he hands Rafael the notebook.

Rafael sets it aside without even looking at it.

He doesn’t smile back.

Rafael is not cut out for this.

Rafael doesn’t know how to ask if Carisi needs anything, how to ask Carisi to stay.

So he doesn-

“Feel like havin’ a drink?”

Rafael has never said no to that question, but there’s a first for everything. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to take Carisi to some bar and drink until they’re both just drunk enough to mayb-

Oh.

Carisi walks up to the main cabinet and pulls out the whiskey.

That, Rafael can do.

A drink with a colleague, in a professional setting, at the end of a long day.

Rafael can only assume this is about what happened at the courthouse. Carisi probably feels weird about the way he scampered off earlier, and this is his way of apologizing.

Carisi wants to make amends, and he’s dipping into Rafael’s stash to do it, because he didn’t have the courtesy or the foresight to bring his own liquor.

That’s alright.

Rafael gets up and his knees creak.

It’s late.

He’s old.

Rafael hopes Carisi didn’t hear.

Carisi reaches for the glasses, and then he opens the thin drawer at the bottom of the cabinet to get the coasters.

He knows where everything is.

This is Rafael’s office, but Carisi is making himself at home. He’s already plopped the whole bottle on the coffee table, without even asking.

That’s why Rafael is on his feet.

They’ll be sitting on the leather couch tonight.

Inches from each other.

That’s not optimal, not for Rafael, not for tonight, but that’s what Carisi needs, so that’s what Rafael will do.

Rafael tells himself it’s not about proximity.

It’s about Carisi trying to be practical. The couch will be more comfortable. The coffee table will offer easier access to their drinks. Less of a chance to spill on one of the documents Rafael kept scattered on his desk to pretend he was still working, while he hopelessly waited for Carisi to show up.

Carisi removes his coat, and his jacket, Carisi unbuttons his vest, and rolls up his sleeves, Carisi takes a seat, and exhales, and then he pours out two glasses of whiskey.

The good stuff.

That would make a passable joke, actually. A good opener, to break the ice, because Carisi seems reluctant to speak, even if the imitation of a smile on his face is relatively promising.

Rafael could maybe say, ‘You couldn’t have picked something less expensive, detective? This requires a palate far more refined than y-

“Pretty stupid, huh? Dating a reporter?”

Rafael reaches for his glass and tries not to squeeze it hard enough to crack.

This is not about Carisi apologizing for this morning.

This is about Carisi answering Rafael’s question.

‘Dating.’

Not ‘friend.’

This is the first time Carisi has ever used language explicit enough to suggest that he is, in fact, dating someone, and Rafael regrets ever asking.

He doesn’t even feel like drinking anymore, but he takes a sip, because he’s been grabbing at his glass for an uncomfortably long time and it would look strange if he didn’t.

“Are you here for romantic advice, Carisi? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Carisi looks startled.

His eyes are wide. His smile is gone. He clearly wasn’t expecting Rafael to be so direct, and now he’s speechless.

Rafael lets him squirm.

For a while.

Rafael is very petty.

“In case you didn’t know, detective, I haven’t had a successful relationship since the Reagan administration. Perhaps you’d have better luck asking someone else for help.”

Carisi relaxes instantly. His smile is back, and this time it almost looks real.

Jokes seem to help. Jokes seem to chase away Carisi’s pain, whether it’s case-related or personal, and Rafael feels a strange obligation to keep them comin-

“Yeah? Like who? Liv? Fin? Amanda? Come on, counselor. We’re all trainwrecks. I mean, I wanna say it’s the job, but maybe…”

Rafael smirks.

“But maybe it’s just your winning personalities.”

Carisi laughs, Carisi actually laughs, and the lines on his face should be deepening, crow’s feet and smile lines, and those fine lines on his forehead Rafael only sees when they’re too close, Carisi’s face should be looking like etched glass, but all Rafael can see is dimples and soft skin and eyes with some life in them, at last.

Rafael keeps the jokes coming.

“Not to mention my personality, of course. The biggest trainwreck of them all.”

Carisi keeps laughing.

“I’m pretty sure I got you beat, counselor. Front page of The Ledger says so. I got quoted as an ‘anonymous source’ and I didn’t even know it. I had to find out over my morning coffee. I mean, she swears I wasn’t the source, but who else could it have been?

“A uni? Who, what, happened to feed her the exact same information I gave her? Or, what, somebody called the paper with an anonymous tip, and she just happened to get the byline? And she forgot to give me a heads up, even though she knew I was workin’ the case? Please.”

‘She.’

That’s all Rafael got from Carisi’s little rant.

Rafael doesn’t even know the woman’s name.

Carisi won’t say it.

Maybe Rafael should dig out his copy of The Ledger and check the byline. Maybe that’s the only way to get an ID on her.

Maybe Rafael could even read the article. He only glanced at the headline, but that was before he knew Carisi was romantically attached to the writer.

Maybe she’s good. Maybe she writes with flair. Maybe that’s what Carisi sees in her.

Maybe Rafael should stop.

Go back to the jokes.

“Of course you’ve got me beat, Carisi. You’re the definition of a trainwreck. Everyone knows that. I was trying to be nice.”

Carisi grins.

With good reason.

Rafael has never in his life actively tried to be nice.

It’s always an accident.

Except when Carisi is involv-

“How come? You feelin’ sorry for me, Barba?”

It would be easy to misconstrue that question as hostile, but Rafael is currently staring at Carisi’s smiling face, and he knows that’s not true.

Carisi is teasing.

“Hardly. I just don’t want to hit you while you’re down. That’s boring. I like a challenge. Not that you’ve ever been much of a challenge.”

Carisi smiles again, like he’s happy to see Rafael teasing back. Carisi slides a little lower, sinks a little deeper into the couch, all comfortable and loose, and Rafael can’t stop thinking about all the times they did this before.

Why they did this before.

What they almost did, before.

That can’t happen again.

Not now.

“Why are you here, Carisi?”

Carisi tenses up, sits up, the leather dipping slightly, and Rafael has been very careful so far, Rafael has kept his hands to himself, and his knees at an appropriate distance, which is very hard to do because Carisi always sits spread eagle, for some reason, but the more Carisi moves the more the cushions dip, and any minute now, Rafael thinks he might roll right onto Carisi’s lap, and that won’t b-

“For the free scotch? And the conversation, I guess? I didn’t know where else to go. Amanda won’t stop making fun of me. She keeps saying she’s proud of me for finally gettin’ my cherry popped. Hilarious, right? ‘Cause this is the first time I ever got in trouble with Liv. And Fin, he’s got his grandson until later. Ken and Alejandro are doing date night. And… And I can’t face Liv right now.”

Oh.

Okay.

Carisi just needs to vent.

Good.

Rafael tops up their glasses with more of that ‘free’ scotch which cost him an arm and a leg.

Carisi needs to vent to a colleague, and Rafael is his fourth choice.

That’s good.

Rafael is surprised he’s even on the list.

Rafael is glad he’s on the list.

Rafael can do this.

He already took care of the scotch, so all that’s left is the conversation.

“You told Liv?”

Carisi sits back with a sigh, like he’s relieved Rafael stopped pressing for answers and simply decided to lend an ear. The cushions dip again, and Rafael suddenly finds himself an inch clos-

“Yeah. I had to tell her. That was on me, Barba. It was my mistake, and it affected our case. That article, it interfered with your job, and Liv’s job, and she needed to know.”

Rafael briefly wonders if that’s why Carisi is confiding in him, right now. If Carisi simply feels responsible for making Rafael’s job harder than it already is, if this conversation really is just an informal apology and there’s nothing more to it.

And then Rafael remembers that Carisi did not, in fact, confide in him, not voluntarily, at least. Not at first. Rafael had to ask, point blank, and that was after he got second-hand intel from Rollins. Without her, he’d probably still be in the dark.

Liv must have gotten the full story. Carisi must have told her everything, otherwise there wouldn’t be a point to the confession. Rafael doubts Carisi hemmed and hawed and fed Liv some nonsense about telling a ‘friend,’ like he did this morning at the courthouse.

Rafael doesn’t know what that means.

If it means anything.

“Telling Liv was the right thing to do, Carisi. Don’t worry about it. She won’t think less of you. She’s seen a lot worse. I’m sure Rollins has told you about some of the stunts she and Amaro have pulled over the years. What you did is small-time. Take it from me.

“If I know Liv, and I do, right now she’s not even thinking about you. She’s just glad she knows what happened. That means she won’t have to worry about launching an internal investigation to find a leak in the department.”

Carisi’s smile is back, and it’s wide, and he looks relieved, again, like Rafael is telling him exactly what he wants to hear, which is weird, because Rafael never does that, certainly not on purpose, Rafael never cares about what people want to hear, except when Carisi is involv-

“Exactly. That’s what I thought. I couldn’t have her worrying about that, on top of everything else. I came clean, and now Liv knows there’s no leak. There’s just me and my big mouth.”

Rafael can’t argue with that, but he still wants to try, because this pep talk won’t take if Carisi keeps blaming himself.

This conversation, it’s a pep talk now, apparently.

Because that’s what Carisi needs.

Rafael doesn’t care about what people need.

Except when Carisi is involved.

Rafael is about to say something inane, something like, ‘You should cut yourself some slack, Carisi,’ because that sounds like what a nicer person might say in a situation like this, but the smile on Carisi’s face stops him.

Carisi is still smiling.

Even now.

Carisi looks cheerful, almost. Almost like he no longer needs the pep talk.

There’s no bitterness in his voice when he says, ‘me and my big mouth.’ No overwhelming sadness in his eyes. That self-flagellating look from this morning, it’s gone. All that’s left is a hint of self-deprecation, but that’s just Carisi on any given day.

Maybe talking to Liv did the trick. Maybe it cleared Carisi’s conscience.

That’s what Rafael tells himself, because the alternative is that Carisi is cheerful because of him, because they’re currently sharing a drink, and talking, and smiling, like they used to, and yes, Rafael is smiling too, which is wholly uncharacteristic of him, but he can’t help the way his face reacts when Carisi looks at him lik-

“I just wanted to tell somebody the good news, you know? Share my happiness. I thought we’d found Emma Lawrence, after all these years, and I got excited, and I got carried away. And I told her. And…”

Carisi stops talking abruptly. It’s almost like he needs help to finish his thought. Or like he doesn’t want to finish it. Like he regrets ever starting.

He’s not smiling anymore.

Neither is Rafael.

Rafael can’t smile. He’s too busy trying to push through the stinging pain he feels in his chest when he hears about Carisi sharing his happiness with someone else.

“And…”

Carisi starts and stops again.

Rafael takes pity on him.

“And, if you had found Emma, Carisi, this would have been the feel-good story of the year. You’d be getting a commendation from the Chief, and your girlfriend would be getting a promotion.”

For some reason, Carisi waits until Rafael makes eye contact before he speaks again.

It takes a minute.

Rafael is not proud to admit he had to avert his eyes before he was able to even utter the word ‘girlfr-

“My ex-girlfriend. We broke up. Or… I got dumped. I think. I don’t know. I didn’t ask for clarification. Either way, we’re done.”

Oh.

Rafael barely manages to contain his surprise.

Or maybe he doesn’t manage it at all, if Carisi’s curious expression is anything to go by.

Fine.

Rafael is surprised. Who wouldn’t be?

There’s so much to be surprised by. It’s not just the ‘ex’ part. It’s the way Carisi mentioned it so casually. It’s the fact Carisi sounds so unaffected, so cheerful, still, so relieved, still, like he didn’t just break up with the person he had been dating for the past six or seven m-

“What, Rollins didn’t tell you that?”

Rafael stares at the bottom of his rapidly emptying glass, the better to avoid Carisi’s smug expression.

As a matter of fact, no, Rollins did not share that particular piece of information, but she’s always been a reliable source, so Rafael is willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She probably didn’t get a chance to tell him. The breakup has to be recent, and Rollins wasn’t in court, so Rafael hasn’t seen her all day. She probably wanted to relay that little tidbit in person. Rollins would never pass up an opportunity to laugh in Rafael’s fac-

“No point in denying it, counselor. You knew about my friend before I talked to Liv. Amanda’s the only one who could’ve told you.”

Rafael is not going to ‘deny’ it. That would be ridiculous. They’re not children. Rafael is going to tell the truth.

Now.

Now that he knows Carisi practically caught him red-handed.

Rafael was totally going to deny it. Blame it on Liv, just like Carisi said.

Now, he’ll have to settle for the truth.

Or a version of it.

“You’re not the only one with a big mouth, Carisi. Rollins loves to gossip. Whatever information she chooses to share with me does not necessarily reflect my interests.”

The annoying smirk on Carisi’s face tells Rafael what he already knew.

He’s not fooling anyone.

That annoying smirk, it’s not annoying.

It’s Carisi’s flirty smirk. It’s Carisi’s ‘oh, Rafael,’ smirk, it’s the smirk Carisi has been flashing at him non-stop lately, after months and months of blank stares and curt half-smiles, it’s the same smirk that had Rafael hoping Carisi was available again, until Rollins had to rain on his parade.

Carisi is available.

Now.

Too available.

This conversation they’re having, it’s too cheerful.

Just this morning, Carisi was so upset he literally ran away just to avoid talking to Rafael.

Tonight, their knees are drifting closer and closer together as they drink.

It’s too soon.

Too soon for Carisi to be doing that well, after what he’s been through.

Rafael thinks maybe Carisi’s nonchalance is an act. Maybe Carisi is hurting, deep down. Maybe he’s hurting enough to want to make a mistake.

Maybe Rafael is Carisi’s mistake of choice.

Maybe that’s why he’s here.

Rafael would be lying if he said he didn’t understand.

He’s felt that same urge, before. That same irrational desire to forget why he shouldn’t, and just run to Carisi after an unpleasant experience.

Like that could help, somehow.

It took all of Rafael’s strength not to approach Carisi after his suspension. His life was already a mess, his political career over before it began, and Rafael tried to tell himself one more mistake wouldn’t make a difference.

It would.

Carisi will not be his mistake.

When this happens, if this happens, it won’t be a mistake.

Rafael rearranges his legs in a way that puts sufficient distance between his knee and Carisi’s thigh.

Carisi’s eyes follow the movement, drawn to parts of Rafael’s anatomy he would truly prefer to keep out of this equation, and Rafael needs to say something fast.

“Wait, is that why you’re here, Carisi? You’re newly heartbroken, so you need a shoulder to cry on? And, obviously, you chose mine, because I’m known for my soft and cuddly disposition?”

Carisi chuckles, and he spreads his legs even more, as if on purpose, and Rafael will not be a mistake but he will let his knee drift just an inch to the right, until they’re almost touching again.

He could swear Carisi’s smile gets brighter when the distance between their bodies gets smaller, and in Rafael’s mind that’s reason enough to giv-

“Sorry, counselor, lil’ Jesse beat you to it. And she’s a lot cuddlier than you, I’ll tell you that. Rollins had me over last night. She said, and I quote, ‘Jesse’s the perfect shoulder to cry on, Carisi, and I speak from experience.’”

Last night.

Just like Rafael suspected, the breakup was recent.

Too recen-

“Not that there was any cryin’ involved. Mostly we just cooked pasta and watched cartoons.”

Rafael smiles at the image.

He’s happy Carisi has a friend in Rollins. In Jesse, too.

Rafael is considerably less happy to see Carisi downplaying the importance of his relationship, yet again. Carisi keeps acting like he’s completely over a break-up which happened all of five minutes ago.

This isn’t like him.

Rationalizing a past relationship to the point of rendering it meaningless retroactively? That’s strictly Barba territory.

Carisi is sweeter than that.

Carisi is emotional, if not sentimental, and he gets overly attached to… to people, to friends, to colleagues, even, let alone romantic partners, not that Rafael would know anything about that, Carisi is caring, and considerate, and this indifference is not like him.

It’s possible this breakup is hitting Carisi harder than he realizes.

Maybe Rafael can help.

Right after he takes a big gulp of whiskey.

“Don’t mistake this for actual concern, Carisi, but are you sure this breakup was a good idea? Maybe you’re being too hasty. I… I don’t know this woman, but clearly you saw something in her. You, uh… You chose to be with her, which…”

Carisi looks guilty again, for falling in love, like that makes sense, and Rafael has to blink away his anger.

“Which is a very strong indictment of her character, obviously, because you’re you, but still. Running with this story couldn’t have been an easy decision. She must have felt conflicted, but journalism is a competitive field, and I’m sure she has her ambitions. As she should. When this big story fell into her lap, she seized the opportunity. Many would do the same. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you. Maybe she regrets what she did.”

Carisi is looking at Rafael with what could only be described as bewilderment in his eyes. An appropriate reaction, considering Rafael just unleashed a load of schmaltzy bullshit on him without any provocation.

Meanwhile, Rafael is mentally putting together his petition for sainthood. These last few sentences alone would surely qualify him for canonization. All he’s missing a miracle, and he thinks he’ll have it by the end of the night, when he goes home alone without exploiting Carisi’s fragile emotional state.

Rafael Barba performing an act of altruism. If that isn’t a miracle, Rafael doesn’t know wh-

“Sure. Nothing says ‘I care’ like dumping your boyfriend by way of a forty-second phone call. But, hey, at least she didn’t do it by text. And there’s nothing for her to regret. She didn’t do anything. That’s her official position. She swore up and down I wasn’t the source. She kept lying, even after we broke up.”

Rafael tries to find some resentment in Carisi’s words, but he fails. All he finds is an almost breezy resignation.

“What if she’s not lying?”

Carisi appears skeptical.

And confused.

Which makes two of them.

Never mind Carisi, Rafael himself can’t figure out why he’s doing this.

Refusing to take advantage of Carisi is one thing, but actively pushing him back into the arms of an ex? Even altruism has its limits. After that, it’s plain martyrdom, and Rafael is not usually a martyr, except when Carisi is involv-

“Nah. She’s lying. I know it. And if she’s not, that’s even worse, ‘cause I still don’t believe her. That’s the one thing we both agreed on. I can’t trust her, and that’s no way to feel about your partner.”

Rafael supposes that’s true.

Also, he tried, he really tried, and he sincerely hopes the Pope will appreciate his noble efforts to help Carisi patch things up with his hitherto nameless romantic rival.

“Alright. You know better than me, Carisi. And that’s the first and last time I ever say that. I guess I’m just surprised you’re not all torn up over this. You did get dumped. And, no offense, but I always took you for a crier.”

Carisi cracks up.

“You sound just like Rollins.”

Rafael is deeply offended by that notion. Mostly because it’s accurat-

“I’m fine. This was a long time coming. The writing’s been on the wall for months now. This whole thing, with the article, and the lying, it wasn’t even the main reason. It just put things into perspective. You know me, counselor. I always wanna see the best in people. If I can’t see the best in my partner, if I won’t, it means something’s wrong.”

That’s something Rafael hadn’t considered.

The Carisi he knows is always willing to believe.

To trust.

Carisi sees the best in everyone. He should be able to see it in the woman he loves.

Perhaps Carisi’s indifference is not an act. It’s possible he’s already come to terms with this breakup, because he had started processing it before it even occurred. Rafael has been there, once or twice. It is hard to muster much of a reaction when a relationship is over before it officially ends. Perh-

“And that’s not all. When we found Emma, when I… When I found the real Emma, I mean, I didn’t go to her.”

‘Her.’

Rafael hates how curious he is about an insignificant detail like this woman’s nam-

“I didn’t even wanna see her. Sharing good news is one thing. Being happy and wantin’ to tell everybody. That’s one thing. But when I was… After Emma, when I was… you know. You saw me. After that, I didn’t wanna see her.”

Rafael doesn’t know what to say to that.

How to express sympathy without sounding insincere.

All he can think to say is, ‘I’m glad you didn’t go to ‘her’ for comfort, even though that’s what you needed.’

Rafael does not make for a good martyr.

Or maybe he does.

“Of course you didn’t want to see her, Carisi. You had been fighting. You can’t decide anything based on th-”

“I’m not just talking about this case, Barba. Or this week. This wasn’t even the first time I’ve had to avoid her after… After a bad day. I’ve been havin’ a lot of those, lately, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Rafael has noticed.

Emma Lawrence was just the latest in a string of traumatic incidents Carisi has had to endure in the past few months alone.

Just the other week, Carisi witnessed death first-hand. Literally. Carisi felt the hand of a rapist slip through his grasp over a rooftop railing, and according to Liv he was devastated, because that’s what Carisi does.

Carisi reacts emotionally even when that emotion isn’t warranted, he sees the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it, Carisi cares, because that’s who Carisi is.

That’s why Rafael is having trouble buying this casual act, mere hours after Carisi had his heart brok-

“Not one time did I go to her. In all those months. Not when I had a problem. Not when I needed somebody to be there for me. That’s what my sisters were for. Or my mom. Or you. I’d get mad, and I’d blow up at you. It was never your fault, but I’d yell at you anyway, to make myself feel better, ‘cause I couldn’t yell at anybody else. ‘Cause I knew you wouldn’t hold it against me.”

Rafael wonders if it’s weird to feel good about that.

About the fact Carisi trusted him enough to yell. About the fact Carisi knew that an argument or two wouldn’t change the w-

“Or I’d vent to Rollins over home-cooked pasta, or I’d tag along with Fin and some of his old buddies on these wild pub crawls, and try not to get alcohol poisoning while they laughed at me. I never went to her. She was just for the good days. The fun stuff. The real stuff, I kept it to myself.”

Rafael can’t help a smile.

“A pub crawl with Detective Tutuola sounds pretty fun to me, Carisi.”

Carisi smiles back.

“Yeah. Yellin’ at you wasn’t fun, though. But you still let me do it.”

Rafael keeps smilin-

“Cause that’s what you’re supposed to do. When you care about somebody. You’re supposed to be there for them. Good days and bad.”

Rafael’s smile is a little tighter, now, a little forced, but it’s still there.

Of course he cares about Carisi.

Of course Carisi knows that.

Of course Carisi knows that Rafael let him yell, because that’s what Carisi needed, somebody to yell at, and Rafael wanted to give that to him, for lack of anything else to give, and maybe the Pope should take note because Rafael totally deserves to be sainted.

Especially considering what he’s about to say next.

“That’s not entirely fair, Carisi. This job, the nature of this job, it does take a toll. Most people’s ‘real stuff’ is dealing with an overly strict boss, or an entitled client, or a totaled car, or a bad haircut. Your real stuff is finding dead children. On a bad day. It’s harder to want to share that. It’s natural to want to protect your loved ones from th-”

“I didn’t love her.”

Carisi says that immediately.

Deliberately.

Like he really wants Rafael to know that, for some reason Rafael does not care to recognize.

Like he’s surprised Rafael would even think that.

What else was Rafael supposed to think?

That’s what Carisi does.

He loves people.

That’s how Rafael sees him.

Like love.

Rafael is not cut out for this.

Rafael doesn’t know how to ask if Carisi means that, how to ask what it all means.

So he doesn’t.

Carisi says, ‘I didn’t love her,’ and Rafael hears the rest, Rafael sees the rest on Carisi’s face, Rafael sees, ‘Like I loved you,’ and that past tense hurts, even when it’s imaginary, even when it’s a vision projected onto Carisi’s eyes, and Rafael doesn’t ask, because hearing the word ‘loved’ out loud is not an experience he wants to suffer tonight.

Or ever.

Rafael doesn’t ask.

Rafael keeps staring at Carisi’s face, and he sees ‘loved,’ and he sees an expression that’s softer than usual, and more open, and Rafael wants to close it, Rafael wishes he could push a button and make Carisi stop, becaus-

“When I saw the front page of The Ledger, my first thought was Liv. I thought, good job, Sonny. Way to open your big, fat mouth and let down your Lieutenant. That was it. That’s why I got mad. It didn’t feel like some huge betrayal. That didn’t even register. I was mad at myself for compromising an investigation. How’s that for love?”

Rafael tries to breathe.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Carisi nods.

“Yeah.”

For the first time tonight, they lift their glasses simultaneously, and the silence between them is extended.

They drink.

Seconds pass, and neither of them tries to sp-

“It wasn’t some great love story, Barba. Just so you know. It was just… Normal. I was just trying to do what people do. My sisters kept pestering me to put myself out there, kept sayin’ I wasn’t living my life to the fullest, so I tried.

“And, let me tell ya, it was harder than I thought. I mean, the beginning, that was easy. It was fun. You see a nice-lookin’ girl, you turn on the charm, a little smile here, a little compliment there. The physical attraction alone takes care of it, you know?”

Rafael wonders if it would be weird to start chugging whiskey straight from the bottle.

Probably, but he’s still tempted to d-

“After a while, though? It became too much effort. I was tryin’ to be a good boyfriend, and take her to Broadway shows, and eat the raw sprouts she called food, I was tryin’ to book weekend getaways last minute, callin’ every bed and breakfast in the Tri-State Area whenever our schedules would randomly sync up, I was… I was trying. Like people do.”

Rafael does not want to hear any more of this. He went from not even knowing this woman’s name, which he still doesn’t, by the way, to knowing her dietary preferences and her travel itinerar-

“That was the problem. It wasn’t real. Wasn’t from the heart. I had to fake it. I had to try. And I never have to try. I like taking care of people. But I kept tryin’ anyway. ‘Cause that’s what you’re supposed to do. When you care about somebody. You’re supposed to be there for them.

“I didn’t love her, but I liked her well enough, and we got along okay, or at least I thought we did, before she sold me out for a story, so I figured I owed it to her to try. That’s where I got it wrong. You’re not supposed to be there. You’re supposed to want to be there.”

Rafael is missing the point.

He has to be.

There has to be a point to this.

To Carisi’s whining.

This can’t just be about Carisi wanting to vent about his love life. It can’t be about him needing to take a load off and finding a friendly ear in Rafael Barba, also known as The World’s Unfriendliest Ear.

It can’t be.

What is Carisi even trying to say? That he was going through the motions? Is there a bigger cliché? Why is Carisi telling h-

“That’s why I’m not all torn up. ‘Cause it wasn’t real. I mean, you weren’t too far off. I am kind of a crier. But look at me. I just got dumped, and I don’t even care. I should care more. Right? Isn’t that how it goes, counselor? You lose somebody, and it hurts?”

Oh.

This is the point Carisi was trying to make.

Rafael wishes he could go back to missing it.

Rafael keeps his mouth firmly shut, because he doesn’t know what he’ll say if he opens it.

He doesn’t know what the question means.

He doesn’t even know if Carisi knows what it means.

Rafael lost Carisi, and it hurt like a sonofabitch.

He wonders if Carisi knows that.

If that’s what Carisi is asking.

If it hurt for Carisi, too.

Rafael had his reasons.

That’s what he told himself.

Rafael does not date cops, and he certainly doesn’t date SVU detectives.

That’s what he tried to tell himself, more than a year ago.

Carisi squeezed his hand.

More than a year ago, Carisi squeezed his hand, on this same leather couch, Carisi squeezed his hand and held it, and Carisi’s fingers were cold, from the glass, because they were drinking whiskey on the rocks that night, more than a year ago Carisi leaned in, eyes open and lips ready, and Rafael was surprised by how unsurprising it was.

Rafael pulled away.

More than a year ago, Rafael pulled away, Rafael got up and didn’t look back, Rafael got up and retreated behind his desk, like a coward, like nothing happened, like Carisi wasn’t left waiting on the couch with a parted mouth and an empty hand, more than a year ago Rafael watched as Carisi grabbed his coat and left without saying a word.

Rafael had his reasons.

That’s what he tells himself, still.

Rafael didn’t want another strike against him.

Another nail in the coffin that was his political career. He still had aspirations, back then. He still had dreams.

It’s funny now.

It wasn’t before.

Before Rafael got found out. Before he got suspended. Before he was told he’d be on perpetual probation, because he couldn’t be trusted with the witnesses.

For the six months between that almost kiss and his suspension, Rafael was happy with his decision.

No.

Not ‘happy.’

Never happy.

For those six months, Rafael felt he had done the right thing. Rafael felt he was too old and too cynical and too reasonable to even consider putting lust over his career, he felt he had worked too hard to let love get in the way, and…

Lust.

Love.

Whatever.

Rafael had worked too hard, and he had dreams, and he wasn’t about to give them up. Not for Carisi.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s the lie he told himself.

One of the lies.

Carisi would be better off without him.

That was another one.

Another lie.

Rafael would make for a great martyr, actually.

It didn’t even matter, in the end.

Rafael should have seen it coming. The D.A. was already unhappy with him, after the Terrence Reynolds case, and the ensuing death threats, and the bad publicity, not to mention the Gary Munson case, which had every other union rep calling for his head.

Rafael did not see it coming.

Even though he had managed to make an enemy out of most of the major political organizations whose endorsement he would have to seek, should he ever choose to run for election, Rafael refused to give up hope.

Rafael kept hoping, and trying to stay on his best behavior, and the last thing he needed was for his career to take another hit because of a dalliance with one of his detectives.

‘Dalliance.’

Love.

Whatever.

For six months, it was okay. Even as Carisi yelled at him. Even as Carisi kept a professional but unfamiliar distance. Even as Rafael had to relearn how to exist without Carisi’s smiles, and Carisi’s compliments, and Carisi’s jokes, and Carisi’s pastries, and Carisi.

It was okay.

And then Rafael got found out.

Suspended.

Then, David Willard dug into his past, and hacked his bank account, and found the one secret which could cost Rafael his job.

It didn’t.

Rafael kept his job but lost his hope.

Even worse, Rafael’s decision became indefensible.

Unsustainable.

After his suspension, it took all of Rafael’s strength not to approach Carisi. Not to apologize. Not to grab Carisi by the vest and kiss him and hope all hope wasn’t lost.

Rafael did no such thing.

Rafael did nothing at all, and he spent the next six months regretting it.

Rafael no longer regrets it.

If anything, he’s retroactively grateful. He knows now that Carisi would have rejected him.

Not out of spite.

Six months ago, Carisi wasn’t available. Carisi was in a relationship. Carisi had moved on, and it was still new but he was happy, and Rafael is grateful he never got to hear about any of this when Carisi and his unnamed reporter were still in the honeymoon phase.

It’s hard enough hearing about it now that it’s over.

The very thought of seeing Carisi all giddy over someone else is bringing back that stinging pain in Rafael’s chest.

Rafael is grateful he did not make that mistake.

Rafael is grateful he couldn’t find a better, a less cheap way to say, ‘My career is dead now, so I have no reason not to fuck you.’

‘Fuck.’

Love.

Whatever.

No.

Love.

It was love.

Six months ago, Rafael’s career effectively died, so he no longer had a reason not to love Carisi, and that was a new experience, because Rafael had spent the past few years of his life desperately looking for a reason, desperately inventing reasons that weren’t even real, because Carisi was so easy to love, Carisi is so easy to love, even for someone like Rafael who doesn’t know how.

Still.

Rafael did not make that mistake.

It wouldn’t have been fair to Carisi.

Six months ago, the stakes were too low.

More than a year ago, when Carisi leaned in, when it really mattered, when Rafael still had something to lose, he pulled away like a coward.

It didn’t feel fair to take that back, the moment Rafael had nothing left to lose.

Literally.

Rafael had lost Carisi already, more than a year ago, Rafael had kissed Carisi goodbye but without the kiss, Rafael had ditched Carisi like a coward, and six months ago he lost all his excuses for doing it.

And it hurt.

Tonight, Carisi is looking at Rafael like he knows that.

Like maybe it hurt for him, too.

Carisi looks lost, again, overwhelmed, again, and Rafael has never regretted not kissing him more th-

“She said I was an angel.”

What?

Who s-

“Mrs. Lawrence. When we found Em… When we thought we found Emma, and me and Rollins went over to their house, to give ‘em the good news. You should’ve seen the look on her face, Barba. I can’t even describe it. She said she looked at me, and she saw an angel. The angel that found her baby girl.”

Oh.

It appears the sadness in Carisi’s eyes is unrelated to his romantic entanglements, past or future or pretend.

While Rafael was busy reminiscing, Carisi found an opportunity to start spiraling again.

Rafael blames himself and the fact he spent the past five minutes staring a hole into the far wall, too afraid to make eye contact as Carisi waited for an answer.

Carisi should not be left alone with his thoughts.

Not tonight.

Rafael knew the cheerfulness was too good to be true. Carisi is not okay. Maybe the breakup didn’t affect him, but the case did, and that’s even worse.

Karen Lawrence called him an angel.

Rafael thinks, of course she did.

Carisi is an angel.

He guides, and he protects, he brings relief, he punishes the wicked.

He punishes himself, when he is found wanting.

Rafael thinks, being an angel isn’t all it’s cracked out to b-

“I used to dream about it. About a moment like that. I was a rookie back then, when Emma Lawrence disappeared, and I used to daydream about finding her. I used to think, what if I got to save her? What if I got to bring her home? Get her back to her parents? How would that feel like?

“I, uh… My pops was in the hospital, when the story broke. He had a heart attack. It was touch-and-go for a while, so we spent that entire month in the ICU. I watched a ton of TV that September. I needed a distraction, you know? I couldn’t help my dad. I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was wait. So I followed the case, and I… That’s why I was so happy, when we found this girl. ‘Cause I thought I’d finally get to bring Emma home.”

Of course.

Of course this case affected Carisi. Of course Carisi has a personal reason to still be emotionally connected to a cold case from ten years ago that he didn’t even work. That’s what Carisi does. That’s who Caris-

“In the end, all I got to do was deliver Emma’s corpse to her mother in a rotted blanket. Talk about a dream come true.”

The naked emotion on Carisi’s face is making Rafael uncomfortable.

Rafael Barba was not put on this earth to provide comfort, even if Carisi has always seemed to disagree.

Rafael is not cut out for this.

For any of this.

For Carisi.

Rafael doesn’t know how to say the right thing, if that’s what Carisi wants, how to give emotional support, if that’s what Carisi needs.

Rafael looks at Carisi, and he tries anyway.

“You did bring her home, Carisi. Not in the way you wanted, but you did bring her home. That’s all you could have done. Emma Lawrence died ten years ago. That is all you could have done.”

Carisi blinks.

Stunned.

Like he never thought of that. Like he still naively believed that he could somehow save Emma, even now.

Rafael thinks, angels aren’t real.

“I know her mother said… I know you were upset by what her mother said at the courthouse, but that was out of your control. For some people, knowing is worse. For others, there’s nothing worse than not knowing. I’ve seen parents tearfully thanking patrol cops for finding bone fragments of their long lost children. For bringing them home. Any part of them. That’s what you did, Carisi. You brought Emma home.”

Carisi smiles.

Peaceful.

Like that worked.

Rafael would be surprised, but he’s not.

This has happened before.

Carisi seems to have a way of ripping the comfort out of him, as if by force. Rafael has it in him, dormant, that comfort, and that compassion, and that love, dormant, but he doesn’t know how to wake it, he doesn’t know how to give it, and sometimes Rafael thinks all this unused love will fester in him, if that’s even possible.

Love, festering.

Until Carisi just reaches inside and takes it.

Somehow.

Rafael is not cut out for this, but Carisi is.

Carisi slides closer and takes hold of Rafael’s hand.

His fingers are warmer than Rafael remembers.

Their hands rest on the leather, connected.

It’s not a romantic overture.