Chapter Text
Liv took a break from her paperwork for the Fletcher case to stare out at the bullpen. It was only partly visible through the half-opened blinds of her office and that felt illustrative. She was on the outside looking in, with only a partial view. She was the head of the team now, as Captain, but she was no longer a part of it. Not like she’d been before. Bruno, Valesco, Curry and Silva were good and she cared for them, but they weren’t family the way Amandy and Carisi were. They hadn’t been in the trenches together. It was good to see Amanda today, to work together again, as equals. She liked being Captain, she’d really grown into it, but part of her missed the days when she had a partner.
Of course they were still around. Fin was even still on the team and she knew he had her back, always. But it wasn’t the same. Fin, Sonny and Amandy. She knew, if she needed them, they were right there. Even Cragen. But what about the day to day? Who did she have to talk to about all the little things? Who did she have a drink with and talk to about her day? Sonny and Amandy had each other. Fin had Phoebe. Who did she go home to? Noah was there of course, and she loved him so much. Her sweet boy. He was growing up so fast, but he was still just a boy. She didn’t want to burden him, she wanted to protect him from the dark realities of her work. That was her job as his mother. So when she was alone after he’d gone to his room or was out with friends or at his brother’s, when she needed to share her thoughts with someone, who did she have? Who took care of her?
It used to be Ed. Brian, to some extent. But there hadn’t been anyone for a while now. And that was okay. She didn’t need anyone. But it would be nice. To have a partner. Elliot came to mind briefly. He wanted to be that person, she knew, the one she leaned on; the centre of her world. And he had been, for a long time. But she’d never been the centre of his. With Kathy and his kids.. Now his job. He wanted to be the centre of her world to the exclusion of everything – everyone – else, but he was not willing or able to offer the same. To offer her the stability she wanted. He tried and it was good to have him back, but he flitted in and out of her life whenever he pleased, often leaving her with a mess to clean up. And with their history… She would never allow herself to rely on him again, not really.
No, the last time she’d really had a partner was Rafa… Until he messed it up.
The thought of him brought a sharp stab of pain, one that made her stop breathing for a second. Missing him was visceral. It’s why she hadn’t entertained thoughts of him for … years. It had been years. Years since they’d last spoken. Though, now that she acknowledged it, she realised that ache had been there every day since. Hidden in some far corner of her mind, just outside of her subconscious, while still pressing down on her every single moment. Weighing her down, like gravity had been turned up. She might have ignored it, but she couldn’t deny it. She often told victims that in order to heal, you had to go through the pain; acknowledge it. Wasn’t it time for her to do the same?
I feel betrayed by you. That’s what she’d told him. Did she miss him enough to forgive his betrayal? Looking back on it now she could remember the feeling of betrayal, that sourness in her belly. But the action that had caused it, the actual betrayal… that was harder to recall. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t only his actions that had gotten in the way, but her expectations as well.
He’d taken the Wheatley case after she’d asked him not to. But what right did she have to dictate his cases, really? He was a defence attorney. They were on opposite sides. The thought itself burned in her gut. They were meant to be on the same side. Even with the Davis trail, they might officially have been on opposing sides, but they were really fighting together. It had been the same in Delia’s case. Was that all it had been? Her inability to see him as the opposition? The realisation hurt deeply, but it missed the bitter taste of betrayal. She might think less of him for turning to the other side. For putting his brilliant mind to defending the very criminals they’d worked to put behind bars, but everyone was entitled to a defence. It wasn’t easy, but a betrayal? No.
He could have put her on trial, ended her career. But he hadn’t. In fact, he’d claimed that’s what he’d tried to prevent. To protect her. Did she really have any reason – other than her own feelings at the time – to doubt his words? His reasons? No. He’d earned her trust in so many ways… She should have trusted him.
No, the betrayal had been to defend someone responsible for killing their own: Kathy. Elliot’s wife. But she was Elliot’s wife and he didn’t owe anything to Elliot. You can only betray those who trust you. Elliot didn’t trust him, didn’t even know him. He couldn’t betray Elliot. The only way he’d betrayed her was because she saw herself as an extension of Elliot. But she wasn’t.
She wasn’t just an extension of Elliot. She was Olivia Benson. Captain of the NYPD. Mother. Friend. Hadn’t he deserved better, as her friend? Shouldn’t she have trusted him? Her mind shied away from the question.
Did he still have that beard, she wondered instead. It had made him look distinguished; less like the ambitious, arrogant hotshot she’d first met. Quieter too. He’d used to control a courtroom with his passion and his sharp wit. Now he’d seemed wiser, yet sad as well. As if he’d been knocked down a peg and it had taken him a while to get back up again.
Did he still think of her, sometimes? When you’re ready to stop feeling betrayed by me I’ll be here. Yes, he probably did think of her, every now and again. Just like the thought of him, the pain of his absence, had been with her every day. Yet she knew it was too late. She’d left it too long. Three years without a word, after shoving all that blame onto him. Was that worse than vanishing into thin air for ten years? She wasn’t sure. But it was certainly comparable and she knew that left wounds that never quite healed. She might have let Elliot back into her life, and forgiven him for leaving, but she’d never forget. She’d never trust him like that again, let him into her heart that deeply. Why would Rafa?
They’d had something beautiful and she’d damaged it, irrevocably.
She let out a heartbroken sigh, closing her eyes for a moment against the tears brimming there. Then she pushed it aside. She had paperwork to finish.
She got up and with a resolute yank closed the blinds completely. As if by shutting out the rest of the world, she could silence her thoughts.
Unfortunately, she’d done the job too long. She could practically dream the paperwork. She only needed half of her attention to fill it in. The rest defied her control and continued to wander.
Yet she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it until she’d written down every line. Then, as she closed the file, she gave in to temptation and opened up her web browser. Rafael Barba she put in and hit search. A bunch of hits came up from his most prominent cases. Drew Householder among them. She quickly skipped past those. She almost scrolled past his LinkedIn profile. Doublechecking that she was in incognito mode just in case – she didn’t want him to get an alert that she’d looked him up – she clicked on it.
He was working for the legislative branch of Sanctuary for Families, here in New York, a non-profit that advocated for policies and legislation that protected survivors and strove to put an end to gender violence. She smiled. He’d come full circle. The child of domestic abuse who now helped the victims of domestic abuse. Just as she had, as a child of rape.
Somehow it felt like a vindication. Not so much of him, but of her own judgement all those years. A confirmation that those last actions, the ones she’d judged him for so harshly, they didn’t define him. Not like she’d let them define her image of him. He wasn’t a defence attorney. He was still working to protect victims, just in a different way. He was still honouring the work they’d done together. He was still – she hoped – the Rafael Barba she’d known.
The thought brought her peace, even though the past tense hurt. She had misjudged him during the Wheatley trial and treated him unfairly. Maybe he had been acting out of character too. To protect her, like he said? ‘You know the trouble with being an empath?’ he’d said. ‘It’s too easy to lose yourself when other people need you.’ Perhaps he hadn’t been talking about her, but about himself. Or about them both. Perhaps he’d lost himself too.
Somehow, knowing that her actions – or both their actions – had been wrong was easier to process than that her judgement was. Perhaps because judging him – doubting him – put their whole relationship into doubt. If she stopped believing that he’d betrayed her, she could start believing in the friendship they’d had again. A friendship – a partnership – that had been essential to her. And, by returning it to its rightful place in her memory, she could erase a pattern she’d started to draw. Of her partners abandoning her, betraying her. And if it wasn’t a pattern, perhaps it wasn’t because of her. Because of something fundamentally wrong with her.
Or perhaps it was easier to deal with because her actions were under her control, and his weren’t. If what had happened was her fault, even partly, she’d had the power to stop it. She’d been an actor, not a victim. It was never easy to feel helpless. Even if she couldn’t fix it now, knowing that she’d actively influenced events then gave her back a sense of power.
And a sense of responsibility. She needed to take accountability for her actions. She knew that even if she couldn’t fix it, even if they could never repair what she’d broken, there was a wound there that still needed to heal. For her and probably for him as well.
So she took out her phone. Finding his contact was easy; she’d used it so many times. Then she just stared at it, for a long time, just thinking and doubting. Until she realised there was only one thing she had to say to him. So, quickly, she texted him I’m sorry. Nothing more. Not even her name. If he didn’t want to acknowledge it, that was fine. If he wanted to pretend to himself he didn’t know who it was from, he could. It was his choice now.
Then she put her phone away and started packing up. It was time to go home.
She wouldn’t blame him if he never responded, so she wouldn’t wait for it. She managed to forget about it – mostly – on the drive home and even more so while having dinner with Noah. Then, at the end of the night as she was preparing for bed, she heard the chirp of an incoming text. She checked her phone.
Her breath stopped as she read the screen. He’d answered. Two words, nothing more. Not even a name. I’m here it simply read.