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Barba’s speech to Benson as he walked away from his job (and, as the thought sometimes slipped into his head in the dead of a sleepless night - what was increasingly feeling like a family, had he been willing to admit it to himself,) was a lie.
All that stuff about Benson (he couldn’t even think of her as “Liv” or “Olivia” in his head after what he’d done) “opening his heart,” well, that had just been a nice thing to say as you walked away from someone on the cold streets, someone who made it their life’s work to improve the lives of others (and who you knew had abandonment issues, and did it anyways.) It was just trying to salve the wound while ignoring that you were the one who inflicted it. A compliment that might have even appeared true to the people around him, the people who were the closest to him in his life (an embarrassing thing to admit to oneself as they near 50, that coworkers who sometimes barely tolerate you are the people closest to you.) Barba knows he hasn’t been the most open with his feelings, has cultivated this demeanor over his entire life, was necessary to survive during a childhood he tries not to think too hard about. (There was one person who might have seen beyond the façade…)
Cases had often hit Barba hard. He could never believe those around him couldn’t read it in his face. He had thought often on why he kept taking on more and more cases with SVU. He could admit to himself that working with Benson had eventually been a part of it; he felt like they complimented each other in ways seldom found, let alone with work partners, and filled in blind spots they both weren’t even aware they had. (This was also, perhaps ironically, why they’d never clicked on a romantic level. They fit together in a way that was rare and precious as coworkers, as great friends, but that would crumble under the pressure of a romantic relationship, the one area where their weaknesses aligned instead of complimenting and completing one another.)
What was more nebulous, and more terrifying, Barba had always been prideful of his ability to own the courtroom, to often effortlessly enthrall and convince the jury, and took satisfaction watching as some new lowlife was marched away to the fate he deserved. But from that very first SVU case (not even with this unit!,) something had felt different. Gone was the smug, lofty confidence of a job well done, replaced with a perhaps more honest feeling of helping someone instead of just doling out punishment. (Or, maybe more honestly, those feelings existed side by side; Barba was still both filled with pride at a job well done and had always used flash to cover for the times he felt less confident than he looked. And he had only then really started to dwell on his motives.) Helping someone who polite society turned a blind eye to, who’s victimization was too uncomfortable to address, and passed off as something they themselves had wrought.
Barba had felt a burning in his chest that he could do more. He couldn’t undo what had been done to these people, but he could be a warrior helping them to have hope they could maybe one day move on.
Moving on. Leaving his job to move on had been a lie. Sure, Jack (the DA is “Jack” in his mind, but his best friend was met with formality) had tried to talk him out of it, but Barba was aware that his career was dead. He’d been on thin ice with an ever heightening stack of boss’s bosses since he started putting people ahead of his win ratio. Since he admitted to himself that putting people away was less important than believing, than helping with healing, even if the end result of those two things was, in his line of work, the same. Since he decided to fight for the abused when no one else would, and found a squad of like minded individuals.
Barba had not wanted to leave. He had not wanted to quit. He had not wanted to admit to himself that some of what appealed to him so strongly about what he was doing had roots back to the very beginnings of his own life, and that had, in the end, tripped him into the abyss.
He still does not regret what he did. He recalls vividly and all too often how the situation felt for him, when it was someone he hated. His own father. Perhaps someone he hated more than most of the people he’s brought justice to in his career (and best not to walk too far down that line of thinking!) Being on the periphery of that mother’s pain, watching her struggle with how God could put her through this. God is not supposed to give you more than you can handle, and everything is supposed to be part of a plan to bring you closer to God. The fact that things like this happen, impossible situations that only serve to destroy good people who made the right decisions, were why Barba walked away from religion in the first place. (Were maybe what drove him to want to right these wrongs himself? What hubris!)
He didn’t regret it. He would do it again. Despite not thinking through the fact that he was also shutting off the trajectory of his life along with that machinery, he would do it again having full knowledge of the consequences. After all the self serving, often law skirting things his squad had done to attempt to help the victims in their path… they didn’t understand. Barba had seen an opportunity to save a marriage, ease tremendous and unjust suffering, and to absolve innocent people from a decision that would ruin them either way. Taking that burden onto his own shoulders had been his only option. (Maybe he also, just a little, felt like he deserved it, based on his own failings with his father, his family, his grandmother, the young woman he helped send through college… He never saved any of them, but he could do this thing for another. What was one more death on his shoulders?)
At the end of the day, or more appropriately a seemingly unending series of days since he faced what felt less like a choice and more a steady pull into ruin, it had been made clear to him that, jury’s decision notwithstanding, Barba had been around the block enough times to know that the court of public opinion was never going to side with an ADA accused of infanticide. He was irreparably tainted and likely to be a detriment in court, in front of those public eyes he needed to sway, to the very people he was so determined to help. So he made another sacrifice for the greater good (and before it could be done for him and remove the illusion of personal goodwill) and turned in his resignation.
Yes, Jack had said it was a mistake, but in a way Barba felt that was the last meal on his way to damnation. He had always held McCoy as an impeccable standard for justice during his years as EADA (and pitied him more than criticized him when politics were foisted on him, moving to the position of DA) and it had admittedly been more than a little devastating to be condemned by him so thoroughly with his own trial. With McCoy’s kind parting words, Barba could once again view him as a sort of mentor and personal hero. And maybe construct the fantasy that he had been egregiously overcharged not just to appease the bloodthirsty public, but because McCoy was a master at his craft and absolutely knew that what Barba did clearly did not fit any definition or precedence of murder. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been granting Barba an intentional reprieve from being found guilty, and potentially serving even a handful of days in jail that - with his track record with COs - could have very likely meant his death. Or at least that’s what he chooses to believe sometimes, before those 3am thoughts start circling in his mind. Now he only lived under the threat of potential civil suits and disbarment, and being unemployed was a complete void in his life of the one thing that gave him purpose.
This of course always brings, unbidden to the forefront of his mind, images of someone who had possibly thought of Barba as mentor. Someone to look up to and emulate. Someone who Barba suspected maybe understood what it was like to take the weight of other people’s trauma onto their shoulders a little more than the rest. Someone who could maybe understand, maybe spend a few moments side by side, not able to put those burdens down or even share them, but holding them steady in companionable understanding over a drink or two. (Or maybe more. Although that felt like more of an impossible fantasy than the DA falsifying charges to save one lowly, disgraced ADA. Even when he couldn’t help but think back to those piercing blue eyes promising to keep him safe from harm in a bar seemingly a lifetime ago.)
Someone who… didn’t show up for Barba during his trial.
Didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even contact him after the verdict.
Barba knew his relationship, as it were, with Carisi had been for some reason strained for the last year and a half. From the moment Carisi complimented him inside the courthouse, while also reminding Barba of what an effortless asshole he could be, he’d made up his mind to treat Carisi the way he deserved to be treated. This wasn’t a poorly written teen drama, so he wasn’t going to sit him down for coffee and pastries and issue a formal apology, but he was going to show the detective his worth from that point forward.
Maybe he should have gone with that apology. From that moment Barba was true to his (unuttered) word and treated Carisi with respect and consideration. He had realized what an intelligent, empathic (if still often overbearing and irritating) person the other man was long ago and just never managed to admit it to himself. It had happened so slowly and surely that maybe it hadn’t even registered to his conscious mind. What felt like it happened quickly and all at once was those feelings turning into something else. Something more. And by the time they were alone at that bar, while being surrounded by faceless cops that Barba should have had the wherewithal to be skeptical, maybe even afraid of, with Carisi’s assurance of his safety, Barba had felt maybe there was something there on the detective’s side that was more than a cop simply doing his job. (Although, as Barba had been all too aware, a cop actually doing his job was rather remarkable on it’s own.)
Barba scrambled to find an opening at a DA’s office for Carisi, seeing it as a way to both prove his worth and commitment to Carisi, and to remove the conflict of interest that would forbid them from coming together in the way that Barba now wanted more than anything.
He understood when that offer was shot down, that this was just terrible timing and Carisi likely couldn’t live with the guilt of leaving his coworkers (his family, even if in Barba’s estimation they didn’t treat him fairly, nor value his worth even a fraction of what he deserved. Barba didn’t have a leg to stand on here, as well.) However, as Barba clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, he couldn’t help but think of a door slamming shut. With Heredio arrested they were potentially a big step closer to securing Barba’s safety, but Barba felt more lost than ever.
Determined to not give up, Barba went about his days as usual, although he’d be lying to say that as time went on and both his case, and his relationship to Carisi, went cold, the spark didn’t go out of things a little bit. He felt more resigned and dull, and less like that bright warrior he had seen himself as in the early days. The weight of the number of cases he was losing, of the broken lives left behind whether he won or lost, was finally taking its toll. He didn’t know how Benson herself dealt with it, how she kept feeling like she was making a difference, in the face of so much ugliness and evil. Maybe this was a symptom of how much Barba truly was still an outsider; Benson had at least the illusion of the entire NYPD behind her in her fight, while Barba was now watching his back from unnamed faces among them, as well as battling his own people, who thought Barba's taste for justice was bad for PR. Their friendship had taken a hit even before that, but for the same reasons, and it was just one more reason that Barba was back to feeling very alone. True they had mostly moved past that issue, but every time Barba suggested going out for dinner or drinks and was shot down more often than not, he wondered if the reason wasn’t truly that there was a break in their relationship that couldn’t be mended.
Barba continued to keep himself open for Carisi. Gone were the barbed comments meant to keep him at arm's length, replaced by an uncharacteristic openness and a fondness that he hoped showed in his face when the detective would approach him even for the most minor work related issues. Gentle teasing meant to bolster Carisi’s confidence and show that Barba viewed them as budding equals, and not like Carisi was a nuisance tripping on Barba’s heels anymore.
Carisi, for his part, largely met this change in Barba neutrally at best, and increasingly with hostility and defensiveness, painting Barba as an antagonist to other members of the squad. An outsider. (And often protective of one squad member in particular, although Barba kept trying to convince himself that it was nothing different than his relationship with Benson.)
Eventually, amidst rumors of Carisi’s being unavailable, it was time to admit that Barba had seriously misread something, possibly even chased Carisi away by showing his hand. Or, far more obviously and likely, upon passing the Bar and becoming a lawyer himself (even if he rejected that career path entirely now, seemingly disillusioned with the lawyers he’d been hero worshipping not that long ago) Carisi simply had no use for Barba anymore.
Barba threw himself into work that no longer held the same reward for him, and determinedly pushed thoughts of a future that would not be from his mind.
All of which came rushing back when Barba faced that trial that would lead to the end of his career, and possibly his life. He could not stop his mind from flashing back, during the most terrifying time of his life, to the one man who had always made him feel safe, those blue eyes and that soft, rare smile feeling like his personal safe haven.
And to the fact that he couldn’t actually remember the last conversation he’d had with the man that wasn’t a terse request for a warrant or discussion of testimony… and that the man who he’d still trusted with his life, seemingly no longer cared that Barba was in danger of losing it, one way or another.
That was possibly the thing that broke him. Possibly why he walked away from his best friend, why he knowingly hurt her so deeply with his betrayal after she had been the one to be by his side during the entire event despite having a city full of victims who relied on her being at her job.
It was selfish. It was out of character.
It was something he would rectify very shortly after the event, although having to jump through a few extra hoops after losing his work Blackberry somewhere during his flight from his old office.
He pretended like nothing had happened to insinuate that he was leaving forever, even though he knew that’s the exact thing he’d meant when giving his overdramatic going away speech, and Benson was kind enough to let him off the hook. Neither of them were ever good at talking about their deeper feelings in this manner, the same places they were both broken inside.
They would see each other seldom, much of what time they’d spent together before being in some way work related, but Barba wouldn’t betray her again by walking out again- even for a few days - as long as they both lived.
His heart slightly mended, or at least some of his guilt assuaged and one piece of his life back where it belonged, he finally felt up to the task of going through the boxes cluttering up his living room, containing the remnants of his old office, his old life.
While throwing out sentimental items from a life he needed to actually move on from, and start thinking about his future (and getting a damn job,) he encountered his work phone, somehow sitting in the open on top of some personal books and under pairs of spare socks (one never knows!)
In the rush and mental anguish of things, he had not yet gotten around to reporting it lost, and having it shut off, which at the time felt like the least of the things Barba could have held against him, but now felt stressfully pressing (and probably illegal.)
He made a quick call (on his new, personal phone) and arranged to drop it off at his old office, laughing casually about just picking up his boxes this afternoon.
Getting ready to head out, it struck him that this was his last opportunity to go through his contacts and add his old colleagues into his new phone, his new life. Or, at least, one colleague in particular. One last test, one last thing he decides he needs to move on from; this person had made their decision long ago regarding having Barba in their life. That needed to be respected, that needed to be let go in order to heal. (Barba studiously avoids admitting to himself how he’d attempted to turn the phone on, only to find that of course the battery had died while stuck in a box and possibly a pair of socks, and THEN decided that plugging it in and waiting for it to charge would be a bridge too far to excuse.)
Which is why, when former ADA Rafael Barba finally hands in the last vestige of his former life, and moves on into his uncertain future, he is unaware that had he charged the phone one last time, several messages were waiting for him.
[Det Carisi] Wish you’d reconsider. This place really needs someone like you.
[Det Carisi] Was planning on Forlini’s tonight. If you’d like to drop by.
And finally, shortly before Barba dropped off his phone and once again walked away from his old life, days later:
[Det Carisi] Goodbye, Rafael, and thank you. I will never forget you.