Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sonny didn’t like it. Which he knew made him a bit of a hypocrite, since when Liv had told him “I don’t like it” only hours earlier, he had replied, “You worry too much, Lieu. It’ll be fine.”

While the first half of that statement might very well be true, things didn’t look to be fine.

“If you got me out of bed for nothin’,” he told the man opening the door for him, “you better be real fond of hospital food. I was shacked up with a pretty nice lady, you get my drift.”

The man – Italian Joe (as opposed to Irish Joe, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer, giving Sonny a little wave as a greeting) – laughed and patted Sonny’s back as he stepped aside to let Sonny walk into the house.

It was a little white thing, maybe four bedrooms, two floors, set back from its corner of the street. There was a swing set in the front yard and even cheap spring decorations on the porch and on the steps leading up to the door. A perfectly normal, cute little house in a quiet residential area with two cars parked outside and the blinds drawn at this time of night.

Sonny had only ever seen it that way, mostly dark, with no kids or women sleeping upstairs, though from what he’d gathered, Gary Cox did use it as an actual weekend residence sometimes, when he brought the wife and kids to the city to catch a game or a show.

Most of the time, though, it was occupied by either one of the Joes and maybe one of the dozen or so henchmen Sonny had met over the course of his undercover operation so far. He couldn’t tell them apart, they were all quiet, brooding young men, unaware of what a cliche they represented, and to him they were all called Bobby, cause it seemed that at least ten of them actually were. Or maybe, he’d thought before, the Joes and Gary Cox couldn’t tell them apart, either, and just called all of them Bobby.

Either way, there were three of them present at the moment, one watching ‘The Great British Bake-Off’ on Netflix with the volume down and the other two playing chess at the kitchen table. None of them looked up at his entrance or acknowledged his presence.

“I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important,” Italian Joe said, following Sonny into the kitchen, where Irish Joe handed him a beer. “You know that.”

“Hm,” Sonny said, unimpressed. He opened his beer and took a long swig. “Still. Got no time for a pajamas party, man. What’s the big deal?”

So far, Sonny hadn’t been in the house at the same time as its occasional secret residents, who, when they were there, were locked up upstairs, five or more to a room, beaten into submissive silence long before they’d ever even set foot in New York.

They, of course, were the reason he was in there at all now, at half past one in the morning, with a van parked down the road, another just a few houses further down, in which the cavalry was waiting for him to give the signal to put an end to this god-awful operation.

When Italian Joe had called him earlier, Sonny had prayed out loud that this night might be the night they could finally arrest the lot, free the women the gang had been working on getting sex-trafficked to the city for weeks now, and fucking finally send them all to prison for hopefully the rest of their lives.

Sonny’s life had been intertwined with the Joes’ and Gary Cox’ for so long now, he sometimes found himself genuinely laughing at Irish Joe’s terrible dad jokes. That’s when you knew you were in too deep.

“I mean, some are pretty funny,” Amanda had said when Sonny had told her, and grinned at his exasperated groan. “C’mon, it’s probably just a few more days,” she’d continued, patting his shoulder in mock comfort. “And then you’ll be the hero of two departments, focus on that. Barba might even smile at you.”

It was comments like that that made Sonny wonder sometimes if he was as obvious about his feelings for Barba as he thought he was, and if so, was he as obvious to Barba about his feelings for him as to others, and if that, would it be enough to move to just another state or would it have to be Canada?

Of course he hadn’t asked Amanda that, but had just given her a wry look and finished getting ready for the next uneventful meeting at The House. For all of the nothing that was actually happening, everyone but the Bobbies sure contributed a lot to their eventual downfall. Fortunately.

It was probably the boredom, Sonny figured, but the Joes and Gary Cox would talk non-stop about their various punishable deeds and that of the man who’d brought them all together and who was as of recently already serving hard time, Timothy Thereaux.

Barba had made sure Thereaux’ ‘good’ deal consisted of changing his jail time from “till the Earth falls into the sun” to “till you’ll be so old you’ll want the Earth to fall into the sun” in exchange for the names of Sonny’s current company as well as Thereaux’ help in the form of his giving Sonny a very credible backstory for his undercover work.

To the Joes, Gary Cox and the Bobbies, Sonny was an ex-cop, fallen from grace and straight into felonies, who had served time before and met Thereaux at Rikers, were their shared hatred of women, the NYPD, the law, and also somehow the Mets, had helped form a fast friendship and had awaken in Thereaux the desire to get Sonny a good spot in his sex-trafficking Bad Guys Crew.

So once Sonny – Jerry – had been released from Rikers, he’d called Gary Cox right away and a so far flawless undercover operation had been underway.

There was talk of up to 20 women arriving at The House shortly, something Liv and the squad had heard about through other channels before, and also, there was a LOT of talk of past killings of fellow criminals, politicians, law enforcement officers who’d tried to play the gang for their own benefits, random bystanders and, of course, women who had dared struggle in any way.

Basically, Sonny’s new friends were admitting a murder a day, always in combination with a funny anecdote and the Joes getting into an amusing little comedy routine about who actually shot the mayor’s son’s girlfriend, shattered that one cop’s head on the sidewalk, stabbed the bitch with the accent, etcetera.

It’d been the casually thrown line about the mayor’s son’s girlfriend that had gotten one of the city’s Major Crimes Divisions on the spot, about two weeks into Sonny’s undercover gig. Led by Captain Reid Manville – called Captain Marvel by his squad of idiots, because of course they would – this particular MCD had tried its hardest to take over the whole thing, apparently never having heard of Olivia Benson, Sonny figured, or they wouldn’t have tried.

Alas, a visit from Dodds regarding the mayor’s feelings about SVU allegedly refusing to work with the people trying to arrest the murderers of his son’s girlfriend had resulted in an uneasy, unstable and very shaky partnership between the two squads that looked to an outsider, as Barba had put it, like ‘the apes and the humans trying to dig out the statue of liberty together while arguing over whose planet it is.’

“Are we the apes in that analogy?” Amanda had asked. “Since it was our case first?”

“If you don’t know…” Barba had dead-panned.

“Why would they dig it out?” Sonny had asked. “It doesn’t mean jackshit to the apes, does it?”

Occasionally, when Barba looked at him like he had then, Sonny wondered if he even had to move to Canada. He must be suffering from stroke-like occasional delusions of grandeur, because sometimes he could have sworn there was… something there, in Barba’s gaze, the way it settled on him.

Then again, maybe it was just Barba’s usual half-amused bafflement at the merest possibility that a man who’d just said what Sonny had said might one day be a lawyer, too.

At any rate, Sonny’s undercover work was monitored by his own squad, whom he trusted indiscriminately, and Captain Manville and his squad, whom Sonny trusted about as far as he could throw up whenever he remembered they were all that stood between him and three to fifteen complete idiots ready to kill a cop at a moment’s notice. It made him, he found, the most on edge he’d ever been doing undercover work. Even Barba had noticed.

“You look skittish,” he’d commented the last time he had seen Sonny, at a meeting regarding the next House observation.

“Yeah,” Sonny had said, “you let Captain Marvel and the Revengers watch your back for a month and see how you look.”

“Hm,” Barba had nodded. “I see the problem. I’d rather it’d be you watching my back, too.”

Only later, sitting at the kitchen table across from Italian Joe, playing checkers, had Sonny frowned, Barba’s voice re-playing in his ears. But… Nah. He’d shaken his head to himself and concentrated on listening to the Murder Anecdote Hour again. Couldn’t be…

The surprise call from Italian Joe tonight had caught them all unaware, though of course not unprepared, one was always prepared doing undercover ops. It just wasn’t the preparation Sonny would have picked himself for a meeting he didn’t know the cause for. His own squad was tied up in another bust, presumably till the early morning hours, so that left Captain Manville and his team to listen in and take action if necessary.

Even though he didn’t feel entirely protected by the other squad, Sonny still hoped it’d be necessary. He just wanted this shit to be over. It’d be best for everybody involved. The two squads wouldn’t miss each other one bit, the Joes would rock the jail cafeteria with all their stories, and wherever the 10-20 women who they were waiting for to be channeled through The House were at now, it probably wasn’t a good place. They all needed a happy end and soon.

So he had told Olivia “it’ll be fine” and driven to The House, Manville’s vans following him closely.

“Well,” Italian Joe said with a giddy little grin that made him look almost handsome, “we got a surprise for you, kiddo.”

Frowning, Sonny looked from him to Irish Joe, all alarms going off inside his head at the sight of Irish Joe nodding like a teenager about to suggest watching porn together. Their whole demeanor made it unlikely that the ‘shipload’, the women, had arrived, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have somehow gotten their hands on an appetizer they were excited to share with their good friend Jerry.

Sonny cursed inwardly. Unexpected shit like that could seriously screw up whole operations. You had to get the girl out, of course, but if you weren’t careful, the only way to achieve that was by blowing the whistle and making early arrests, thereby missing the final goal of the whole thing. He hoped he could convince his imbecile buddies that he’d enjoy any woman they had waiting for him more at his own home. If they let him take her with him, he could always claim she’d been trouble and he got rid of her later.

Also, there was the problem of Captain Manville. Sonny didn’t know him well enough to gauge how he’d react in the situation that was obviously approaching. If he didn’t leave Sonny enough time to play it right, it could endanger everything they’d worked for.

He braced himself. “It better be some fan-fucking-tastic surprise.”

“Oh, it is,” Italian Joe nodded. “Follow me.”

Trying to look as half intrigued, half pissed off as he could while his body went into flight or fight mode, Sonny followed Italian Joe out of the kitchen and to the basement door near the entrance.

Oh, things were looking worse by the second.

“My big surprise is in the basement? What is it, a karaoke machine?” Sonny quipped, taking a swig of beer to hide his growing unease.

Irish Joe laughed behind him. “Not far off,” he said. “It’s as loud. We had to take precautions.” He winked. “I’m sure you’ll take care of that, though.”

Sonny nodded, showing a confused smile. It suddenly hit him that he hadn’t seen Gary Cox, yet, and he wouldn’t be asleep upstairs when the Joes were this giddy about whatever it was they had down there. He was most likely in the basement, together with the surprise.

This was just the worst way the night could have gone. Now Sonny was going to have to pretend he’d be taking a violated girl home with him to rape some more, adding to her trauma. Sometimes his job really wasn’t all hero stickers and strawberry shakes.

“I’m not fucking anyone in a basement,” he said. Best to start early, make a point out of it before anything had even started.

Both Joes and even one of the Bobbies laughed out loud.

“You say that now, J-dog,” Italian Joe chuckled. “But wait till you see who it is. You might wanna reconsider.”

Sonny snorted, saving his breath for later. He couldn’t seem completely averse to the whole offer, that’d be suspicious. At least the cops listening in knew someone was held captive in The House now, so they could prepare for whatever steps would be necessary next.

“We may have kept you out of the loop for a few days here,” Irish Joe said in a semi-apologetic tone, walking down the narrow staircase behind Sonny. “Gar came up with the plan and it worked like a charm. It’s for Timmy, really, we’ll get word to him, maybe upload a video?” he asked as if the idea had just occurred to him.

Italian Joe shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

“So he can watch it in jail,” Irish Joe went on. “But then we thought, oh, Jerry will LOVE this, too, so… What can we say, man,” he grinned. “We love you, you’re family.”

By now, Sonny didn’t know what to expect anymore, though he was pretty sure it wasn’t just a random girl they had snatched away from their batch. He was preparing himself to come face to face with a terrified kidnapping victim – ‘Oh god, don’t let it be a cop.’ - when Italian Joe knocked on the door to another room on the right of the cold hallway.

It looked like any other basement, children’s bikes and a lawnmower stored safely away, a few garden tools. The little side room could be a wine cellar, dad’s hobby room. As any little room in a basement, of course it could be a murder room, too.

“Yeah?” Gary Cox’ voice answered from the other side of the door.

“The two of you decent?” Italian Joe snickered, looking at Sonny. Everything was hilarious. “Jerry’s here.”

“Fuck you!” Gary Cox laughed back. “Bring him in.”

With a last excited grin at Sonny, Italian Joe opened the door wide, stepping through so as not to block Sonny’s view of Gary Cox standing over a man lying face down at his feet. Gary Cox’ hands were clenched to fists, two knuckles on his right dripping tiny drops of blood onto the downed man’s blue shirt.

The man’s hands were tied behind his back with a zip tie, and he was barefoot. Sonny’s heart had sunk the moment he’d laid eyes on him, but when he spotted the expensive loafers, light gray suit jacket and pale pink tie in a pile on top of a briefcase in a corner of the room, all hope that he might be mistaken vanished in a flash.

“Shit,” he said before he could help it. “Barba.”

He couldn’t tell if Barba flinched from his voice or the “SURPRISE!” the Joes exclaimed.

“Didn’t expect that, did you, kid?” Gary Cox asked with a big happy grin, while Irish Joe threw an arm around Sonny’s shoulders. “And it’s not even your birthday. Or is it?” He laughed. “That’d be perfect. Anyway,” he bent over to grab a handful of Barba’s hair and force his head up, causing the ADA to desperately shuffle onto his knees without being able to use his hands, “I might have blown out one candle on your cake, so to speak,” he looked down at his handiwork, “but not much, I swear. He mostly came that way.” With a wink, he pointed his head at the giggling Joes. “We decided he’s all yours, you earned it.”

Barba’s eye that wasn’t completely swollen shut focused on Sonny with an unreadable expression. It was neither the relief nor dread Sonny would have expected, but a very characteristic accusatory exasperation that made Sonny want to tell him it wasn’t HIS fault.

‘I didn’t SEND people to grab and beat you, honest!’

Apart from the black eye – which was in itself spectacular, a perfect, deep dark ring around his eye socket with thin red lines running through the underlying paler bruise stretching towards his cheekbone; it looked like goth make-up, the Joes really were artists – Barba sported a gash low on his forehead that had stopped bleeding a while ago and looked like someone had smashed his head against a wall, or possibly the pavement, and his lip was freshly split, blood trickling down his chin and throat where his shirt was ripped at the front.

His lapels were dotted with blood, and Sonny couldn’t help admiring that Barba – presumably without knowing – had managed to pick an outfit that went well with the color of drying blood. When they got out of there, Sonny fully intended to suggest he take the shirt to his tailor and have a new tie and pocket square made – the light blood red looked even nicer against the shirt and suit than the pale pink he’d originally worn.

But then, Barba would probably figure that himself the moment he got a chance to see himself in a mirror.

And also, ‘What the fuck, Sonny!’

Sonny drew in a discreet breath, steeling his grateful bad guy grin, and tried to shelf freaking out in the weirdest way possible for later, when everyone was safe.

“Man,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm and Jerry-like, while running his gaze over Barba, trying to spot any further injuries hidden by his clothes. He wondered why they’d taken his shoes, then figured they were pretty nice shoes, of course, and also, it was freezing cold in the room. They were psychopaths, the lot of them, but dedicated.

“I don’t know what to say,” he went on, quickly looking away when he saw the beginning of a very familiar Barba eye-roll. “How did you even-”

“Gar knows a cop who knows a delivery guy,” Italian Joe said, “it’s all very complicated, don’t ask.”

“It all comes down,” Gary Cox said, “to Mr. Barba being a creature of habit, so much so it’s like he’s inviting people to intercept him on his merry ways.”

He looked down into Barba’s face and this time Barba did roll his eyes, only to be unceremoniously dropped, almost hitting his face against Gary Cox’ knees. “Easy peasy,” Gary Cox finished and stepped away from the pile of ADA who wasn’t trying to get up again.

Sonny nodded, seeing for the first time that Barba’s wrists were also bleeding from where he’d struggled against the zip tie. He wondered where the cavalry was. Captain Marvel and his team had heard every word so far, shouldn’t they be upstairs by now, shooting Bobbies and preparing to storm down the stairs and rescue the captive?

He couldn’t remember if any of them had met Barba in the past – that might explain the delay... Oh god, he mustn’t make himself giggle! He was a professional, this wasn’t the time to go into hysterics!

Irish Joe drew Sonny closer for a second, pecked the top of his head and said, “We knew you’d love it.” He let go. “Timmy will throw a cell block party when he gets the news.”

Italian Joe nodded. “Especially when he hears it was you did the honors. We got you a little assortment,” he pointed at a cocktail table near the door that was covered in neatly arranged rows of knifes and tools of various kinds, including, somehow, a set of surgical knifes. “If you need something bigger, garden tools are outside.”

Sonny stared at the display, belatedly remembering to let go of a low whistle to show his appreciation. At the thought of Barba watching them bring in a bag-load of torture instruments and happily arrange them to be nice and ready, he stole a quick glance at the ADA’s pants but found them dry, if dirty. Kudos, he thought, hostages had pissed themselves at much less.

“Cool,” he said. “Thanks, that looks… sufficient.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the tiniest twitch of Barba’s shoulders. Probably restraining himself from snapping something that would get them both killed instantly.

Italian Joe gave Sonny’s back a friendly pat. “You need anything else, just come back up. Have fun. Oh, I called dibs on the shoes, Gary wants that briefcase. Feel free to strangle him with that fucking gay tie.”

Sonny forced out a laugh, nodding enthusiastically, and thanked them again, as the Joes left the room.

Gary Cox looked down at Barba’s bowed head, then up at Sonny, apparently so touched by his gesture he was on the verge of tears. “Make it good,” he said in a husky mutter and cleaned his throat. “For Tim.” He nodded.

“Course,” Sonny agreed, frowning in what he hoped was an appropriately emotional way and then braced himself, when Gary Cox took a step away, only to draw back his foot.

“Hey! Don’t kill my present!”

Sonny had yelled it with a laugh, making sure to show he was just kidding, go ahead, kick the man I’ve been secretly in love with for months now, what do I care, make sure you don’t miss his head.

Fortunately, it was enough for Barba to react and quickly roll as far out of reach as he could, grunting in pain, as he ducked his head low.

Gary Cox withdrew a little, laughing along and shooting Sonny a ‘sorry, bud’-kinda look. His foot ended up connecting squarely with Barba’s back with only half the force originally intended. It still flattened him completely on his front, his head connected with the floor with a low thud that almost drowned out the moan that escaped him.

Seemingly satisfied with that, Gary Cox spat on Barba’s back and finally walked away, giving Sonny a parting half-hug before he left the room.

The second the door fell closed, Sonny was on his knees next to Barba, hands hovering above him, desperately trying to remember any of his training.

“Shit.” No, that wasn’t what you were supposed to say to traumatized hostages. “Fuck.” No, not that, either. “Barba? It-it’s Sonny? I’m, uh, I’m-I’m gonna, uh, roll you over? We’re alone. You’re gonna feel my-”

“Carisi,” Barba cut him off, his voice strained and muffled against the floor. “Help me sit up.”

“Sure! Sorry! I’m go-”

“Just do it. I’ll know where your hands are when I feel them, okay?”

It so wasn’t the situation Sonny had hoped – in his wildest dreams – to ever hear Barba asking him to put his hands on him, but he really shouldn’t be thinking about that now. As careful as he could, he grabbed Barba’s shoulders, rolled him to his side and lifted him to a sitting position, quickly catching him, when he sagged forward.

“Woah there, counselor. You-”

“You gonna ask whether I’m okay, I’m telling Liv, I swear to god,” Barba said, somehow managing to sound his usual grumpy, snarky self with blood dripping from his face and sweat breaking out at his temples.

“-should take it easy,” Sonny finished, smiling slightly at the glare he received for that. “Let me help you.”

Barba didn’t reply, but let Sonny more or less drag him, as gently as he could, back a little until he could lean against the wall. He sighed as if relieved at the solid support at his back, the sound breaking on a whimper when he moved wrong. He shifted slightly, Sonny watching with naked concern in his eyes.

“Let me see,” Sonny said softly, tilting Barba’s head back.

Their eyes met. Well, Sonny’s and Barba’s open one.

“If I’d known you were going to spent months,” Barba said, putting emphasis on the last word, “telling people you know for a fact are homicidal maniacs, how much I deserve to get chopped into little pieces, but somehow still fed to the pigs alive, I would have never made fun of Fordham, or your clothes, or anything. If it bothered you that much, you could’ve just said so, you know? ‘Shut up, counselor, or I’m gonna have you killed.’ Would’ve done the trick. I’m easy that way.”

“It’s how friendships are brokered in the city,” Sonny said, running his hand down Barba’s side to check for his reaction. “‘Rafael Barba, am I right?’ - ‘God, yes, someone feed him to the pigs.’ No other way to bond with people. Are you hurt anywhere I can’t see?” He switched sides, feeling Barba’s ribs. “Anything broken?”

Barba shook his head. “Never mind that now. Liv’s listening in, right? They’re round the corner?”

“Manville’s team.” Sonny nodded.

“Well, they can’t come,” Barba said, looking up and down Sonny’s chest as if trying to spot the wire to talk into it. “Don’t come, we’ll figure this out.” He glanced up.

“It’s one-way,” Sonny said.

“That’s stupid.”

Sonny shrugged. It was, but it was how Captain Marvel played things.

“’kay,” Barba said, “but they’re not here now, so - do not come! It’ll blow the whole operation.”

“Right,” Sonny huffed a wry snort. “Guys, stay put. Nobody stop me while I kill the ADA with… oh, look, a crowbar, nice. AND a hammer. Thoughtful.” He shook his head. “It’s okay, Barba, it’s over. It’s fine, I mean, we’ll get them for everything so far, plus kidnapping and assault and attempted murder and, I don’t know, attempted Grand Theft Footwear? It’ll be enough. Let me untie you, before you lose a hand. Cap, any time will be-”

“No!” Barba cut him off. “We can figure this out without-”

“What d’you-” Sonny started.

“They’re waiting for that delivery,” Barba said. He shifted so he could look straight at Sonny, determined. More bossy than he should be rightfully looking, too, considering he was tied up barefoot in a murder basement. “We arrest them now, what do you think will happen to those women?”

Sonny briefly closed his eyes. It was, of course, the same thought he’d had earlier, before he had known who his present was. But the fact remained that he might very well have been able to pull it off to save a woman – ‘Not fucking anyone in a basement, I’ll be taking this one home with me, thanks, guys.’ - but how was he supposed to play this now? Throw Barba over his shoulder and declare him murder take-out? ‘I rather do this at home, it’s cold down there.’

It was ludicrous to even consider. Barba must have taken more hits to the head than Sonny had originally thought.

“I’ll get suspended if I kill you,” he joked. “I know that’s probably the plan, but stop it. We’ll wait for the squad and book the assholes tonight. We’ll get one of them to tell us where the girls are.”

“Why would they? What you gonna offer them?”

“There’s things,” Sonny insisted. “Thereaux talked, when you offered him a deal.”

“He isn’t in for multiple homicides,” Barba pointed out. “The only thing I can threaten these guys with is life without the possibility of pudding on Fridays!”

“Okay,” Sonny snapped back, “what’s your solution? Tell me.”

“Make it look like you stabbed me or whatever, knock me out and leave to dump the body. I’ll stay low, we’ll put a thing out about my untimely, violent demise, and it’ll just be a few more days till we’ll get them and their victims.”

Sonny stared at him. “You’re insane. Guys, I hope you’re on your way.”

“Sonny, c’mon,” Barba said, almost falling over on his side when he tried to stop Sonny from standing up.

Sonny quickly reached out to steady him, glaring against his will. Fuck, but that was the first time Barba had used his first name and what a situation for him to do it in. Sonny was going to kill everyone responsible himself. Hopefully before dawn.

“Easy,” he said, leaning Barba back against the wall. “I’m gonna get some cutters to untie you now.”

“Son-”

“How,” Sonny snapped, still holding on to Barba’s shoulders, “do you suppose I make it look like I cut you up?”

“I don’t know, smear some blood?” Barba looked down his shirt. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I can provide more.” And before Sonny could do anything to stop him, he knocked his head against the wall, causing the gash on his forehead to bleed again.

“Fuck!” Sonny flinched as hard as if he’d been slapped, belatedly reaching out to cradle Barba’s head. “What the FUCK, Rafael!”

And now that was the first time he’d used Barba’s first name. Great, all the romantic milestones he’d been dreaming about were turning into a ‘Saw’ movie.

“See?” Barba said through a wince. “Now you got blood on your hands, just get creative and-”

Suddenly tensing up, he clamped his mouth shut.

Sonny had heard it, too.

Steps on the stairs.

“Hammer,” Barba mouthed, nodding his head at the cocktail table. Then he yelped, making Sonny jump.

“Please stop!”

Startled for just a second at Barba’s pain-filled voice, Sonny quickly stumbled to his feet and grabbed the hammer, smacked it against the wall next to him.

Barba screamed again. He nodded fiercely at Sonny.

The steps outside were coming closer.

Sonny grabbed Barba’s tie off the pile and hit the wall again.

Barba howled, begging for Sonny to stop.

Outside the door, Gary Cox’ laugh could be heard, then a knock on the door. “Hey kid? You enjoying yourself?”

Sonny watched Barba hurriedly huddle down against the floor, hiding his front from view, somehow managing to leave a large smear of blood on the wall.

He ran Barba’s tie through his hands a few times to cover it in blood, wiping some on the hammer as well. As an afterthought, he picked up one of the surgical knifes, bloodied it as well, and threw the hammer against the far wall Barba was lying at, making sure not to hit him with it.

With a last glance over his shoulder, he opened the door, grinning widely at Gary Cox. “Hey! Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the noise.”

Barba whimpered softly in the background.

“Man,” Gary Cox chuckled at the sight of the bloody tie slung over Sonny’s shoulder, “you’re really going to town on the poor guy, huh?”

“It’s a dream come true,” Sonny smiled.

“… please… make him stop...” Barba sobbed.

Sonny tensed, but Gary Cox just laughed again. “Almost makes you feel sorry for him,” he said with a wink.

“…I’ll do anything…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Sonny snapped over his shoulder, only half acting, and turned back to the delighted Gary Cox. “You’d think a fancy-ass lawyer would have better manners.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gary Cox said. “Anyway, we’re gonna order pizza, you want some?”

“Uh, sure,” Sonny said. “No pineapple.”

“Got it,” Gary Cox nodded. “You want something, counselor?” he called out, grinning at Sonny, who chuckled, resisting the urge to kick him in the nuts right there.

Barba only moaned in reply, mumbling something that could be either “kill me” or “don’t kill me” into the wall.

Gary Cox laughed, he was laughing a lot tonight. Just having the best time. “Didn’t get that, sorry. But Jerry will take care of it, I’m sure.” He looked back at Sonny. “Want another beer?” he nodded at the empty bottle Sonny had left next to the door earlier. “You’re working hard.”

“Yes, thanks,” Sonny said reflexively. “Or, wait, you got something stronger?”

“Sure,” Gary Cox replied. “Bar’s stocked, what’ll monsieur have?”

“Scotch?”

“Scotch coming right down.”

“Double,” Sonny said.

Gary Cox give him a thumb up and headed back up the stairs.

Sonny closed the door, listened for a moment, and turned towards the room. “Fuck,” he sighed, leaning his head back, eyes closed.

“Did you just order a drink for me?” Barba asked.

Sonny blinked his eyes open, moved his head. Barba hadn’t moved from his position on the floor. There were faint traces of blood where his wrists had chafed over the stone.

“Who said it’s for you?”

Barba didn’t reply, but Sonny could just see his expression in his head as if he was looking at him. Telepathic powers, he thought, handy.

“Well,” he said, “we don’t want that wound to get infected, now that you re-opened it. I figured I’ll pour it over your head.”

“So thoughtful,” Barba grunted, squirming to roll over again. “Good thing you don’t like pineapple, either, I’m starving.”

“I love pineapple,” Sonny said.

They shared a long look.

“Oh,” Barba said. “Thanks.”

“At any rate,” Sonny said, “we shouldn’t still be here when the fucking food arrives, should we, Captain? Where are you guys?”

“They agree with me,” Barba said.

“Nah, I think they just want you dead,” Sonny replied. “Keeping on brand with tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair, studying Barba. Blood had run into his swollen eye, making it look even more gruesome. He probably didn’t even feel it.

“If you do that again, I’ll try to arrest them all by myself, get us both killed, you got that?”

“You ruined my tie,” Barba said.

Sonny sighed. “Your shirt’s all bloody, anyway, what’re you gonna wear it with?”

“Another shirt?”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Sonny said. He walked over to sit down next to Barba, gently propping him up again. “If you want your plan to work, better start acting unconscious soon.”

“Before the scotch?” Barba quipped.

Sonny huffed a tired chuckle, shaking his head.

“They really like you,” Barba said after a moment’s pause. “Your buddies. You shoulda heard how excited they were about all this. They’re going to be heartbroken when they find out.”

“There’s groups for that in prison,” Sonny said. He rolled his head against the wall to look at Barba. “So you knew I was coming.”

“I hoped you would,” Barba said. “When they started preparing their little birthday table,” he nudged his chin at the torture display, “I did pray you wouldn’t sit this one out, and I don’t pray.”

Sonny frowned in sympathy, forcefully keeping himself from petting him. Barba’s eyes – presumably matching when one wasn’t swollen – were really pretty up close. Even more so than usually.

“Shit, sorry. How can you stay so calm?”

“Calm?” Barba snorted. “I’m fucking terrified. You really are an empath, aren’t you?”

Sonny was about to reply that Barba just wasn’t on the scale of normal human emotions – he caused extreme ones and he didn’t show his own in any detectable manner – when they both heard steps on the stairs again.

“Scotch o’clock!” Barba mouthed with mock playfulness, making Sonny almost shove him against the wall.

He swallowed a completely unhinged giggle and hastily arranged Barba in a new, half hidden position, wiped his hands on the back of his shirt to spread more blood, though it had mostly dried by now, and as a finishing touch wrapped Barba’s tie around his neck, stuffing the ends around him so the knot looked tighter than it was and slipped down his suspenders.

He thought he could hear Barba mutter something, but didn’t catch it.

Standing up, Sonny started to whistle “Whistle while you work” loud enough for Gary Cox to hear outside and picked up a random knife from the table.

At Gary Cox’ knock, he opened the door, grinning broadly. “Scotch o’clock!”

Gary Cox laughed, handed him a filled glass and peeked over Sonny’s shoulder at the motionless bloody heap on the floor. His gaze wandered to the knife in Sonny’s hand.

“Christ,” he said, “you’re not gonna do anything outlandish, are you?”

“Why,” Sonny asked, taking a sip of scotch, “you wanna watch?”

“Fuck, no,” Gary Cox said in mock disgust. “That’s between you and your maker, just we gotta clean this place before the missus comes back, y’know.”

“Doesn’t bleed as much if you leave it in,” Sonny said.

Gary Cox gaze snapped up to his, and he laughed again. “You’re nuts, kid, I love you, you know that? Fucking hell.”

Sonny smiled, accepting the half hug. “I mean,” he said, “seriously, you want a go, I won’t judge. I’ll be using this,” he held up the hilt of the knife, “but, hey, god loves all his children.” He took a step aside in an inviting gesture. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Nah, man,” Gary Cox said, “‘s cool. You do your thing, I’m just happy you’re having fun, okay? That’s not for me, I’ll be getting plenty of my thing later hopefully. You take your time, do whatever, it’s all good. When you’re done, we got plastic bags upstairs, just give a shout, okay? I was just kidding about the cleaning, we’ll do that. This one’s for you,” he finished with a smile.

Doing his best to swallow the rising bile in his throat, Sonny lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said and took a big gulp. He should have asked for the bottle.

“Don’t mention it, bud,” Gary Cox said and left.

Sonny all but sagged against the door, resting his forehead against it.

“You’re scary when you want to be,” Barba said dryly. “I’d compliment you on it if you hadn’t just tried to pimp me out to a murdering rapist.”

“He was never gonna have any of it,” Sonny said, walking back to him. “But Jerry’s a bit of a sick nut, so…” He shrugged, sat down next to Barba again. “Keeping up appearances.”

“What, your buddy can’t see blood?” Barba asked, grunting softly when Sonny helped him sit up. “Cause you’re not going to tell me he’s straight now, like that has anything to do with torture, are you?”

“Course not,” Sonny said, meeting his gaze. “He’d fuck you with the crowbar in a heartbeat, but he wouldn’t mess up my gift.” He smiled at Barba’s expression. “Like you said – they love me.”

He picked up the glass he’d put down to help Barba and held it up for him. “Drink?”

Barba glared, but nodded, and Sonny put the glass to his lips, let him take a swig.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, withdrawing the glass for another sip of his own. “You’re probably concussed or something. Bleeding into your brain, while we’re waiting for you fucking guys to show up, hello!” he exclaimed, craning his head back as if yelling at the ceiling and not into his mic.

“We’re not waiting for anyone,” Barba said, nudging Sonny’s shoulder with his for another drink. “We got this, we’re sticking to my plan.”

“You don’t have a plan,” Sonny said, letting him drink more, “you have a problem. Babbling nonsense. You think you can hold your breath while we wrap you in plastic bags and carry you to the trunk of my car? If they even let me help at all. You heard Gare, cleaning up’s part of the gift. Can you hold your breath while being cut into pieces for easier disposal?”

“Gare.” Barba raised his brows.

Sonny sighed. “Oh, fuck you.”

“You can wrap me in a carpet or blanket, there’s some outside,” Barba said. “Tell them it’s the least you could do. Tell them you want to keep the body. Jerry’s nuts, so…” he shrugged, winced, “go nuts.”

“Stop moving, you’re hurting yourself,” Sonny said tiredly. “I need to untie you, you’re probably bleeding out from your wrists alone.” He made to get up again.

“Sonny.”

“It’ll never work, it’s completely ludicrous, and I don’t know why no one has come, yet, Captain! Seriously, it’s a medical emergency down here, everyone listen to me and NOT the concussed captive for a change, please. We need the teams here now and a bus, I’m not kidding!”

“I’m not singing off on any arrest warrants if these people get arrested before we know where they’re holding the women,” Barba said sternly.

Sonny laughed out loud. “You’re the fucking victim, you’re not signing anything, anyway!”

“You’re not even going to try? The cavalry can wait around the corner just in case, but we gotta try at least!”

“Rafael,” Sonny said, calmly but in his ‘no room for discussion now’-detective voice. The one he’d learned from Olivia. He knelt next to Barba, putting his hand against the side of his head to have him look at him. “No. Forget it. This isn’t a movie, there’s protocols. You’re a civilian in mortal danger, it is my job to protect you.”

“It’s your job to protect those women!”

“They’re not here,” Sonny pointed out. “You are.”

Barba closed his mouth, thinking. “Okay,” he said at last, but before Sonny could nod in relief, continued, “so keep me alive till they are, too.”

A reply was on the tip of Sonny’s tongue, when he suddenly felt like he was hearing Barba’s words for the first time, actually saw the despair on his face. It wasn’t like a thought occurring to him, but more like a sudden knowledge popping up in his brain. He truly was an empath, after all. Prided himself on being one.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” he said.

Barba clenched his jaw, didn’t reply.

Bingo.

“You don’t have to kill yourself as punishment for getting abducted by a bunch of psychopaths. If anything, I’d say you’ve been punished enough just for doing your job.”

“I should have been more careful,” Barba whispered, not looking at Sonny.

Painfully aware of the fact their conversation wasn’t private, Sonny ever so gently brushed Barba’s hair back from where it had fallen over his forehead, sticking to the blood there.

“Your plan’s bullshit,” he said softly, willing Barba to make eye contact again. “No one thought for a second that it’s what we should do, and the only reason they aren’t here, yet, is because preparations are taking so long. Okay?”

Barba swallowed thickly.

“Do not,” Sonny said, not sure if it was something in Barba’s expression that made him say it or if it was an attempt at humor, “hurt yourself again. If you actually do manage to knock yourself out, I STILL won’t go along with your suggestion. Got that?”

Barba glared at him.

“Good. Gonna untie you now and I’m SURE,” he bowed his head to speak directly into his mic, “by the time we got you on your feet and out of the way, the team will be here to fucking stop this shit already.”

Barba averted his eyes, tensing in his misery, when suddenly an idea seemed to hit him. He snapped his head back up, almost falling forward once more.

“Stay-” Sonny sighed.

“Sonny!”

“No,” Sonny snapped. “Just… no! Fuck’s sake, can you-”

“No, no, listen,” Barba hurried to cut him off. “Just listen. Your friend said he was going to get plenty of his thing later.”

“Stop calling them my-”

“Gare,” Barba said. “Gary himface, he said he’s going to get his thing later. Later tonight!”

“What are you talking about?” Sonny asked, exasperated. He was nearing the end of his rope.

Maybe it would be better to knock Barba out after all, just for the peace and quiet Sonny badly needed to find a way out of this ridiculous situation his colleagues didn’t seem too bothered by, if their absence was any indication.

“When you told him he could rape me undisturbed if he wanted to,” Barba said, completely unaware of his words or the effect they had on Sonny, “he declined, because he’d, quote, get plenty of his own thing later. C’mon, you’re the detective, I’m just a lawyer with a concussion!”

Sonny stopped, his hands on Barba’s chest where he had tried to get him to stop moving. “That doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said. “Maybe he’s got a date. Maybe they hired hookers.”

“Or maybe,” Barba said, “it’s their delivery. They do get first try.”

Sonny frowned. “Can’t be sure,” he said.

“You could ask them,” Barba said.

“Out of nowhere? ‘How long till pizza, and also, by the way, are you expecting twenty sex slaves tonight, just curious?’”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“My job is to protect the citizens of this city,” Sonny said with emphasis, pointing his index finger at Barba.

“Look, Batman,” Barba said, trying his hardest to sit up as straight as he could, getting his court room face on, but only, Sonny figured, because he had no idea how pathetic he looked, bloodied, beaten and trembling slightly from either pain or the cold or both, “if we miss our chance to help those people by mere hours because of ME, I think I’d rather choose the plastic bags.”

Sonny met his gaze, helpless against his emotions rushing into the sad smile he felt start on his face.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, “I understand that, but, see, I still choose you.” He paused. “And I’m calling the shots here.”

“Are you?” Barba asked, nodding at Sonny’s shirt, somewhere under which, he knew, was the wire.

Lips quirking humorlessly, Sonny decided to ignore that, ran his hand through Barba’s hair once more, just cause he hadn’t stopped him the first time, and stood up. He felt Barba looking after him as he went to the cocktail table. “There’s got to be some wire cutters here.”

“I was only joking,” Barba dead-panned. “No need to get nasty.”

“Is this still you being terrified?” Sonny asked, grabbing a pair of wire cutters. Of course they had been on offer. “It’s getting hard to tell. You’re funnier than they are.”

He quickly returned to Barba, gently pulling him away from the wall.

“Carisi,” Barba said, begged really, wincing as he was stretching his neck to look at Sonny over his shoulder, “please.”

“Can you bend over?” Sonny asked, ignoring him. “I don’t think any of your ribs are broken, but they worked you over before I arrived, didn’t they? If it hurts to move, don’t do it.”

“What are you going to do if no one comes?” Barba asked, but didn’t resist when Sonny ever so carefully put his hand against his shoulder to bend him over so he could reach his hands. “Your fellow cops are obviously on my side.”

“We’re all on your side,” Sonny said. “That’s the point. Is this okay? You need to tell me if it hurts, I’m serious. If I puncture your lung because you’re too stubborn to say ow, I’ll tell Benson what a big fucking macho you’ve been, so help me. I might still,” he added, since the idea had just occurred to him. “She’ll love all this, wait till she gets to listen to it.”

“I’m fine,” Barba grunted out.

Sonny sighed, but still held him in place so he could get the cutters under the zip tie. Barba flinched so hard his head connected with the wall again.

“Okay, that hurts,” he said. “Not my ribs, just that.”

“Sorry.” Sonny grimaced, trying to make fast of it. “Christ, look at what they did to you. Fuck.”

He did his best to get it over with as fast as possible, but it still caused a few more yelps and whimpers, as well as new bleeding from re-opened wounds on Barba’s wrists.

Once the zip tie was off, Sonny very gently moved Barba’s arms, his heart breaking at the swallowed moans Barba couldn’t hold back, and turned his hands palms-up to study them.

“Your fingertips aren’t blue, I think that’s a good thing.”

“You can’t wrap me in a blanket and throw me in a trunk,” Barba said, only half joking, “but you have it in you to do THIS to me? Ow!”

Sonny was about to reply with another appeal at the teams outside to please drop in now, since Barba was bleeding pretty badly, and also this was it now, they were done, no more moral debates, when Barba twisted his right hand in Sonny’s grasp, grabbing his arm, smearing blood everywhere, though it wasn’t like he noticed.

“We can still work it.”

Sonny felt all the fight go out of him. He wasn’t going to give in – not ever – but he couldn’t argue any more without losing significant battleground. He was tired, He wanted this to end.

“No,” he said, putting his other hand over Barba’s. “Rafa. No.”

“How do I live with myself if I’m the reason we never find them?” Barba asked in a whisper.

There was nothing Sonny wanted to do more than tell him it was all going to be okay. They’d find the women, all his suffering wouldn’t be for nothing, and he wanted to wrap him in his arms, take away all his pain, stop his bleeding, absorb the guilt for him.

It was almost suffocating. He loved this man so much, and if he wasn’t loved back, that wouldn’t change a thing. It was just Barba, not how Barba felt about him.

“You’re not,” Sonny said, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the pain on Barba’s face anymore.

“Sonny-”

“Don’t make me do this,” Sonny cut him off. He hadn’t realized how close they were, but now he let his head move the last inch to come to rest against the side of Barba’s. “Please. I can’t-”

“Don’t let me be responsi-”

“I love you.” The following silence rang loudly in Sonny’s ears. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. I wouldn’t, anyway, but stop fucking asking me to. I can’t.”

He didn’t want to open his eyes, when he felt Barba withdraw from him, didn’t want to see the rejection in his eyes. He wished for the ground to just open and swallow him, but what did happen was-

“Pizza,” Barba whispered close to him.

Sonny had heard it, too.

“Shit!” He let go of Barba, desperately looking around. “Drop your pants! Quick!”

He grabbed the knife he’d shown Gary Cox earlier, wiping the fresh blood on his hand over the hilt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he turned around to find Barba had managed to draw his suit pants down halfway. Sonny quickly shoved up Barba’s shirt and smeared more blood on his exposed back, right above the rim of his boxer briefs.

He picked up a random torture device. “Play dead,” he whispered urgently. “Don’t make a sound.”

Heart hammering in his chest, Sonny fixed the same happy grin as earlier on his face, positioned himself right behind the door and waited for the knock.

“NYPD! Drop your weapon!”

He didn’t have time to reply, before the door almost hit him in the face, causing him to stumble and fall on his back.

“NYPD! NY… Lieu!” he exclaimed upon seeing Olivia Benson pointing her gun right at him, Amanda hurrying past her to get to Barba’s side.

“Carisi,” Benson breathed out. “Oh my god, we thought…” She trailed off.

Amanda quickly stepped back, palms lifted, gaze averted. Barba was struggling to get his pants back up.

“Uhm, victim’s not Sonny,” Amanda said.

“No,” Olivia said, “I can see… Rafa?” she asked, holstering her gun and only now seeing the person behind Sonny. “What… What the…”

“Yeah,” Amanda said. She had retreated behind Olivia, but was still averting her eyes, “victim is, uh, Barba?”

Olivia’s eyes grew wide even as she was looking Sonny up and down for injuries, taking in his bloodied hands and shirt.

“I didn’t touch him,” Sonny joked, exhausted.

“Call a bus,” Olivia turned to Amanda, who gratefully escaped the whole thing, running back up the stairs. “Raf,” she then called out, walking past Sonny, “it’s Liv.”

“I’m not deaf,” Barba replied. “I don’t need an ambulance. What are you doing here?”

“He needs an ambulance,” Sonny said. “He needed one an hour ago.”

“Did you,” Olivia asked him, frowning, “undress him?”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Liv,” Barba called out, trying to prop himself up against the wall. Sonny desperately wanted to help him, but he didn’t dare touch him as long as Benson was watching him like that. “Stop harassing your detective. What are you doing here?”

Olivia looked from him to Sonny and back. “I’m… not sure.”

“Manville’s decided to send in people NOW?” Sonny asked. “After I’ve been begging them to do so this whole time? Take it up with him, but, seriously, his whole team deserves to go down. Look at him,” he pointed at Barba. “They should’ve stopped this shit the moment they heard he was down here. What the fuck is wrong with them?”

Olivia’s gaze wandered over Barba, taking in his state. “They were with us.”

“What?” Sonny asked.

“We intercepted a call about your guys’ latest delivery. I called Manville to let him know. He said you were here, but it was just a commonplace visit? He said you were playing chess with them, so his teams joined us at the delivery point.”

“They… weren’t here?” Sonny asked, dumbfounded.

“No,” Olivia said. “Manville said you got this. We intercepted the delivery, we got all the women to safety and then we came back here to arrest the crew. That’s when Manville told me you might still be here. I almost punched him, I thought…” She shook her head, lowering herself down next to Barba. “I didn’t know you were here at all. My god, Rafa…” Carefully, she wrapped him into a hug. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“He’s not alright,” Sonny said at the same time Barba replied, “I’m a gift for Carisi here.”

At Olivia rising her brows, Barba explained, “To kill. He showed impressive professional restraint, though.”

“Shut up,” Sonny sighed. He suddenly felt very tired, the past minutes catching up with him full force. He sagged against the wall. From the corner of his eye he could see Olivia’s concerned frown directed at him.

“Medics are here,” Amanda yelled outside. A second later, she stuck her head back into the room. “They’re getting a gurney.”

“I can walk,” Barba protested and started to get up, holding on to the wall for support.

Sonny pushed himself off of the wall and was next to him in an instant, all but holding him down.

“You’ve been begging me to carry you upstairs all night. You’ll let them fucking carry you!”

Olivia flinched. She seemed torn whether to interfere, but put her hand over Sonny’s on Barba’s shoulder, anyway, the lightest touch. She leaned in to catch Sonny’s gaze.

Barba looked up at Sonny towering over him, good eye wide open. He had paled quite dramatically since rescue had arrived, trembling much worse than before.

“Fine,” he said at last.

Sonny nodded curtly. Didn’t let go of him. He was just about to retreat, when Barba added, “No need to get dramatic, we’re good now,” with a soothing half smile that looked like an equivalent to patting Sonny’s back and saying ‘there, there’.

“Have you been listening at all?” Sonny asked angrily, his fingers digging into Barba’s shoulders. Olivia’s grip on his hand tightened. “We’ve been all by ourselves! If I’d gone along with your plan, you’d be dead now, you asshole!”

“I’m pretty sure we’d both be,” Barba replied.

“You’re saying ‘I’m sorry’ wrong,” Sonny said, sounding dangerously close to losing it even to his own ears.

“I’m not so-” Barba started, but was cut off.

“Ooookay.”

Sonny hadn’t seen Amanda move, but she was at his side suddenly, gently tugging at him to get him to move away. “C’mon, there’s a medic upstairs for you, c’mon, Sonny, let go of him.”

Still glaring at Barba, Sonny released him, letting Amanda drag him away and out the door. He could hear Barba’s soft voice behind them.

“I think he’s in shock maybe?”

“What was your plan?” Olivia asked instead of an answer.

Then they were around the corner, on the stairs. Amanda’s hand never left Sonny’s back, as she guided him through the living-room, past where the Joes, Gary Cox and the three Bobbies sat handcuffed on the couch and two chairs, surrounded by cops.

“Jerry?” Irish Joe asked.

Sonny didn’t look.

“Don’t say a thing!” Gary Cox called after him. “My lawyer’ll take care of this!”

Amanda led him outside to a waiting bus, where a medic made him sit down to do his thing. Sonny answered questions on autopilot, endured the light shone into his eyes, the prodding. He wasn’t fuming anymore, he could barely remember being terrified. It was like you had a nightmare, woke up screaming and drenched in sweat, but unable to recall even that feeling of fright the moment you’d showered and had coffee. Far away fear.

Maybe Barba was right, maybe he was in shock. He’d rather be angry again, he thought. Being numb like this felt uncomfortable.

He looked up just in time to see two medics roll Barba’s gurney towards the bus, Olivia walking next to him.
They’d apparently been arguing the whole trip upstairs and out. The first words Sonny could hear Barba say were, “Are you victim-blaming me? Why am I the first victim that makes you drop all your principles?”

It was clear he wasn’t being completely serious, and if Olivia’s reply was anything to go by, neither was she.

“I’m not blaming you for becoming a victim.”

“Gee, thanks,” Barba snorted.

“I might blame you for victimizing my detective,” she said, looking at Carisi, who’d stood up to let them through, the medics readying the gurney to be pushed into the bus, “by being a terrible hostage.”

“I’m a gift,” Barba said with a fake pout. “Not a hostage.”

“Let’s all pray you’ll never be a hostage,” Sonny said tiredly. “You’d somehow disarm the perp, only to shoot yourself and tell the negotiators not to bother with the escape vehicle, you called an uber.”

Barba rolled his head to the side to look at Sonny. He was still so pale, and now that he was lying down, his shaking was really pronounced. “That didn’t make any sense.”

“You’d know,” Sonny sighed. He glanced up briefly at Olivia squeezing his arm, then back down at Barba. “Want company?” he heard himself ask out of nowhere.

Barba blinked.

“In there.” Sonny pointed his thumb at the bus. “Someone should tell them the truth, when they ask you things. ‘Were you hit in the head, sir?’ - ‘No, I did that myself.’ That kinda stuff.”

“They hit me first!”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Olivia said, smiling at Sonny. “I’ll come see you later,” she told Barba. “Don’t make anyone else hurt you till then.”

“How is that not victim-blaming?” Barba exclaimed, as they shoved him into the ambulance.

“My statement-” Sonny said, but Olivia waved it off.

“If you can, drop in tomorrow,” she said. “If not, I’ll come by your place to take it. Okay?”

Sonny nodded. “Thanks, Lieu.”

“You did great,” she said. “I’ll go find Manville now to yell at him until he starts to cry, do you want Amanda to film it for you?”

“Yes, please,” Sonny grinned and hopped up into the ambulance. He gave Olivia a little parting wave as the doors were shut.

****
Barba didn’t have to stay overnight. He did have two cracked ribs, though, and his ducking his head, not looking at Sonny, when the doctor came back with the x-rays, was enough for Sonny to snap at him again.

“I told you to tell me if it hurt!”

“I did!”

“Gaslighting,” Sonny said sternly, pointing his finger at him. “And stop it right now.”

He couldn’t tell when they’d apparently decided to play the whole thing like Barba and Olivia had – sort of semi-funny, not really joking but joking. It was making him feel better by the second, but he wondered if it was a poisoned comfort that’d come to take his sleep, when the raw truth hit in the solitary darkness of night.

The image of Barba hurting himself in order to save the operation. ‘How can I live with myself?’ How was Sonny supposed to live with it?

Without acknowledging the implication, they took the same uber, pretending Sonny would drop Barba off on the way to his flat in the completely opposite direction. They didn’t talk on the ride.

Every now and then Sonny would steal a glance, check out Barba resting his head against the cool window, good eye closed. With the blood washed off his face and plasters and bandages applied, he looked even paler than before. The light blue scrubs didn’t help. His torn and bloodied clothes had been collected as evidence, and he couldn’t have worn them anymore, anyway.

Sonny was looking forward to explaining in his statement how most of the blood on Barba’s tie and shirt had been smeared there by him, and most of the blood on his pants had been from when Barba had smashed his own head into the wall. He didn’t know Gary Cox’ lawyer, but if they were anything like Buchanan, they were going to have a field day with it.

He could just see himself in the witness stand now. ‘Yes, I was fearing for his life, while I was ordering a pizza, no pineapples, you gotta believe me!’

Thank god the gang wouldn’t go down just for that. It wasn’t out of the imaginable, Sonny thought, that all they’d get for the added offense was a kidnapping charge.

‘And how are we to know he didn’t break his own ribs?’ he could hear Buchanan’s words in his ears.

Which… well, fair.

“Nightcap?”

Sonny blinked; daydreaming, he figured. Staring at Barba without seeing him move his head towards him when their driver had announced the destination.

“What?” he asked.

“Nightcap?” Barba repeated, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at his building they were currently parked in front of. “I think we earned it.”

“You shouldn’t drink,” Sonny said.

Barba nodded. “Right. Wanna come upstairs to make sure I don’t, then?”

Sonny watched him, let his eyes wander from his swollen eye to the scabbed split in his lip, down his neck and to where he knew tight bandages were wrapped around his middle under the scrubs.

“Sonny.”

Sonny’s gaze snapped up to Barba’s good eye.

“Come upstairs with me. Please.”

Sonny nodded. Hell, why was Barba even asking. It wasn’t just that Sonny couldn’t have resisted that tone if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t want to leave Barba. He’d been fully prepared to spend the night outside his apartment building, telepathically sensing everyone inside was breathing alright for the next twelve hours. It was dawn already, soon the coffee shops nearby would open, he’d manage.

“Okay,” he said and followed Barba outside, resisting every urge to steady him as they slowly made their way across the street, into the elevator and up to his apartment.

“I’m definitely drinking,” Barba said once the elevator pinged and opened its doors. “Just so you know. You can scowl at me, that’s fine.”

“I think I want one, too,” Sonny said, then watched Barba frown at his door. “Need your keys, counselor?”

Barba looked at him.

Snorting, Sonny reached reached into the pocket of his coat and produced Barba’s keys. “Got your phone, too. They had to hold on to your briefcase, everything used as a weapon is evidence.”

“I used that as a weapon,” Barba said but took a step back for Sonny to unlock the door. “One of your friends caught it with his nose.”

“You tough little cookie.” Sonny held the door open for him.

Barba cast him the briefest glare, then walked past him, visibly relaxing once he was inside his home. Sonny followed him inside and closed the door. By the time he had turned around, Barba was already pouring scotch into two glasses at the kitchenette counter.

Sonny briefly leaned back against the door, just watching him, half relieved he still could and half imagining a future version of this very scene. He slowly pushed himself off of the door and walked over to him.

With a half smile, Barba handed him his drink.

Sonny took it. Looked around. He’d never been in Barba’s apartment before. There was an old movie poster, framed, hanging above to what he guessed was a home office, just a desk and a chair close to the window.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing his chin at the poster.

“‘Night of the Lepus,’” Barba replied without looking, picking up his own glass. “Classic.”

“Hm. About rabbits?”

“Yup.”

Sonny took a sip of his drink, watching Barba as he did the same. “I’m not condoning you drinking,” he said as they lowered their glasses.

Barba nodded. “Noted.” He took another, bigger gulp, leaning against the counter with an exhausted sigh.

“C’mon,” Sonny said, reaching out to take Barba’s elbow, “you need to sit down before you fall on what’s left of your face.”

Barba didn’t resist when Sonny led him to the couch next to the desk. It looked surprisingly comfortable. Not that Sonny had anticipated Barba’s apartment to be sterile or impersonal – surely a man who took that much obvious pleasure from displaying a wide collection of cheerful socks would have his personality reflected in his living quarters as well – but the couch was soft and well-sat through to the point of looking almost ratty compared to the fancy kitchenette.

There were three completely mismatched blankets strewn haphazardly on it, and a big pillow, not even a couch pillow, just a pillow in a rainbow-colored pillowcase. The coffee table was littered with pens and legal pads, two empty unwashed coffee mugs standing next to the remote for a decently sized TV.

While gently helping Barba sit down, Sonny checked out the ‘home office’, which, in contrast, was impeccably neat or, probably more likely, had never been used since its creation. Case in point, the computer screen taking up most of the space was covered in post-its and, for some reason, a fridge magnet of a cartoon hamster Barba had taped to the upper right hand corner.

The only other two items on the desk apart from the keyboard were two unpacked Vinyl Pop figurines, one of Ruth Bader-Ginsburg and one of a sharknado.

Barba put his glass down on the crowded coffee table and with a bone-weary sigh sank back into the couch, slowly letting his head fall against the backrest.

“See?” Sonny said. “I’d ask if you need something for the pain now,” he reached into his pocket to produce a little pill bottle, shook it once for emphasis, “cause they gave me these for you, but you had to go and have scotch.”

With a wry sideglance at him, Barba just stretched his arm out towards the table and wriggled his fingers.

Sonny snorted, but gave him his glass, anyway. “You’re difficult,” he said, watching Barba drain most of his drink. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“No,” Barba said, “everybody but you thinks I’m lovely and agreeable.”

It must be the alcohol on top of the remnants of shock, Sonny figured, because he heard himself reply, “I didn’t say you weren’t lovely.”

Barba rolled his head on the headrest to look at him, the rim of his glass still touching his lips. It wasn’t as much of a come-hither look as Sonny assumed he’d be capable of if he had both eyes open and fully functioning, but as far as these things went it was still pretty impressive.

His heart hammering way too loud – he could feel it all the way up in his throat – Sonny tried to hold that not-very-ambiguous gaze Barba was casting him while oh so nonchalantly raising his glass for a sexy sip, only to find it empty.

Feeling himself blush, he put it away and came nose to nose with Barba when he leaned back. For a man with broken ribs, he’d moved surprisingly quietly.

Sonny was sure Barba could feel his heartbeat, too, now, he was so close. He blushed even more at Barba’s gaze traveling to his mouth and back up, head slightly tilted, clearly asking for permission.

Christ, that was hot.

Before he even registered he’d nodded, Sonny felt Barba’s lips on his, soft, careful, again silently asking.

His mind was racing, while he ever so slightly opened his mouth, feeling Barba tentatively lick his lower lip.

What was he doing? He shouldn’t be taking advantage of… Wait! No! What was BARBA doing? If anyone was being taken advantage of, surely it was him! But… if that was what it was, he wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of some more. Maybe, if this was okay, it’d be okay to put his hand in Barba’s hair? Oh, look, apparently it was. Maybe he could even pet it? Once? Oh, apparently that was okay, too. Maybe he could even… Oh fuck! Did he just moan? Wait. No. Did Barba just moan? Fuck! Had he hurt him?

Snapping his head back so fast Barba all but fell against him, Sonny frowned at him, one hand still in his hair, the other flat against his chest to steady him. It couldn’t be true, obviously, but he could have sworn Barba’s heart was going as fast as his own. Maybe a side-effect of the torture he’d endured.

“Shit, sorry,” Sonny exclaimed, “you okay?”

Barba chuckled a little breathlessly. He didn’t look quite as pale anymore. “I’m fine,” he said close to Sonny’s mouth. “This is perfect.”

And they were kissing again.

Mindful of Barba’s split lip, Sonny tried to keep it soft and light, but that noble intention went to go get some privacy of its own pretty fast. By the time Barba actually did flinch from moving wrong, he was already halfway in Sonny’s lap, Sonny’s hands under the top of his scrubs.

“Still fine?” Sonny asked, embarrassed a little at how out of breath he was.

Barba grimaced sightly, but nodded. He smiled at Sonny and moved in for another kiss.

Sonny backed away, hand coming up to cup the side of Barba’s face, making him look at him. “If this is your idea of an apology, I’m not against it, but I’m not sure both of us are, uhm, up to it.”

Barba leaned back a bit, widening his good eye in a playfully wounded expression. “Outrageous. What would I need to apologize for?”

Narrowing his eyes, Sonny clamped his mouth shut.

“Oh, that,” Barba said. “Nah, I was going to buy you one of these whale cakes for that. ‘I’m whale-y sorry’, maybe a bottle of the good stuff. Maybe… dinner?” he added with a little over-the-top question mark, making Sonny snort.

“But, no,” Barba continued, running his hand through Sonny’s hair.

Fuck, but that felt like such a loving gesture. Sonny barely stopped himself from mewing.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long now,” Barba smiled. “It just never seemed like something you’d be interested in until you, well, confessed… I guess, really, carnal desire? Back there?”

“That’s not what I confessed,” Sonny said, for some reason – maybe because the guy was literally sitting with Sonny’s knee touching his dick – brave enough to meet Barba’s gaze. “I’m sure you inspire carnal desires in everyone you meet.”

“Probably,” Barba said, but Sonny saw the smile quirking the corners of his lips. “Most people have better taste than one imagines.”

Sonny nodded. “Hm,” he said, watching Barba. It was the weirdest feeling. Like they’d already said what needed to be said, like they’d been at this very moment a thousand times before and it was as comfortable as stepping into your home after a long day.

He let his hand run down Barba’s face, down his neck. Nudged him till they could kiss again.

“I love you,” he said, his nose touching Barba’s, eyes closed.

He felt Barba’s smile against his lips. “Truth is, Sonny – I’m MADLY in love with you. It’s actually quite embarrassing. I don’t believe for a second you never noticed.” A gentle peck to the side of Sonny’s mouth. “And I’d love for you to fuck me right now, but I’m not sure that’s happening.”

Sonny snorted, kissed him again. “Well,” he said, moving back to look at him, “you had an exciting day, you should rest.”

“Hmmm,” Barba nodded. “Condescension. So hot. I knew you were perfect.”

They kissed again.

“D’you usually sleep here?” Sonny asked eventually, snuggled against Barba – Rafael – holding him close and watching him fold their fingers together.

“Hm?”

“On the couch.”

“Oh. Nah. Sometimes. Why, would you like to see the bedroom?”

“No,” Sonny said happily, hugging him closer, dragging one of the blankets over both of them, “I’m comfy.”

Rafael squiggled in his arms to roll around, flinching a little, and kissed Sonny again. “If I’d known this would happen, I would've gotten kidnapped a long time ago. They weren't the first to try.”

“God,” Sonny sighed, “you’re so messed up.” He pecked his nose.

“And did you see how heartbroken they were?” Rafael continued. “I told you so!”

Deliberately ignoring that, Sonny craned his neck to study the poster above the desk again. “Why rabbits?” he asked.

“You don’t know it?”

“No.”

“Carino,” Rafael smiled and kissed him. “You’re in for a treat.”

THE END