Chapter Text
On nights like tonight, Olivia longed for the days when she was a junior detective. Those positions had afforded her the ability to not-so-subtly dodge events like the one she was at tonight, and if there was one drawback to attaining a captain's rank within the NYPD, it was that she could no longer dodge the high-brow, political functions the way she once had.
The deputy chief had told her that new recruits and younger detectives looked at her almost as a legend. Olivia didn't know about that. She felt rather minimal in importance in the greater scheme of things; ‘legend’ was certainly blowing her reputation out of proportion in her mind. But McGrath had insisted on her attendance tonight, and so here she was, making the rounds, glad handing, steering any conversations (especially with legislators) towards the needs for more funding, more resources, more urgency for the rape kit backlogs and for a significant increase in training for all police officers on trauma informed care and best practices for investigating crimes, especially those of a sexual nature.
If she had to be here, she was going to ply every single elected official, lobbyist, mover, and shaker into advocating for more funding for law enforcement at every level, especially when it came to victim services.
"Captain Benson, always nice to see a familiar face."
Olivia grinned as Christian Garland edged his way towards her. "Deputy Mayor-"
"Please," Garland waved off the formality, "I've heard about enough of that title. Call me Christian or Garland - even make something up, I don't care."
"That's a dangerous invitation," Olivia laughed.
"I'm assuming this is a work night for you?" Garland plucked two flutes of champagne off of a passing server's tray and gallantly handed her own, which she graciously accepted even if she wasn't so much a fan of the stuff.
"It is, but I'm making the most of it. If you like, I can give you my pitch for increased funding for the NYPD? You can take it to the mayor."
"Or you could take it to the mayor," Garland suggested. Olivia snorted into the rim of her glass.
"Oh yeah, right. McGrath finds out I so much as walked on the same city block as the mayor, he'd have a heart attack."
"Well, you know why that is, so I wouldn't worry about it."
"I don't, actually," Olivia lifted an eyebrow, curious. "Why is that?"
"Because he knows you're going to have his job one day and he's doing everything he can to prevent that from happening," Garland answered matter of factly.
"Well, you can tell him not to worry. I'm perfectly fine where I am in SVU," Olivia sipped lightly at the champagne. "I have no desire to move to 1PP."
"It's the next step, Captain, the next logical career move for someone as accomplished and experienced as yourself." The other man shrugged at her. "It's something to think about."
Olivia hated politics, down to the very marrow in her bones, but that didn't necessarily mean that she didn't know how to play the game or recognize a warning when it was given to her in the guise of friendly advice. "Have you heard something I need to be aware of?"
Garland shook his head. "Not yet," he cleared his throat, "but your name has been floated in the past. Expect it to be floated again when the brass or the administration gets tired of McGrath."
"Noted," Olivia offered him a tight smile. The truth was Olivia would retire before she went to 1PP. She wouldn't say that out loud to Garland; she liked him, even trusted him on some things, but ultimatums like that tended to innocently work their way into conversations with others, even when done with the best of intentions. Olivia knew enough to keep that bit of information close to the vest. A familiar face hit the light perfectly across the room and she cast a smile Garland's way. "I see Fin over there with Phoebe, I think I'm going to go say hello."
He let her escape without a fuss and Olivia dodged and squeezed her way over to her sergeant. "It's like running the gauntlet in this place," she muttered when she was finally standing beside them both, putting the small, cream clutch that held her cell phone and other personal effects on the high-top table. A waiter glided by, and Olivia stuck her barely imbibed flute of champagne onto it.
"I'd'a drank that," Fin told her.
"You hate champagne just like I do, Fin."
"It's alcohol, Liv. I'll drink whatever for as long as you're gonna make me be here," he glowered.
Olivia only grinned at him. If she had to be here, then so did her second in command, and that was exactly what she'd told him the previous week. Fin had whined, begged, pleaded, even tried bribery to get out of tonight's benefit, but a tactfully placed call to Phoebe telling her that she should make sure Fin was dressed for the occasion was all it had taken to get him to begrudgingly accept that if there was no way she could dodge this event, there would certainly be no possibility of him doing so. "Phoebe, you look lovely."
"So do you, Liv," Phoebe actually gave her a once over while Fin continued to pout on her arm. "Get dressed up for anybody special?"
"Ah, no," Liv looked down at herself. It was a gown she'd worn when she'd last come to the Five Boroughs ball. That was when she'd been with Ed, and he'd taken her as his date. And then she'd broken up with him a month or two later, and... well.
But she'd refused to shell out money for a new outfit for this dog and pony show, and the floor length, deep brown taffeta dress complimented her eyes, showed off her shoulders and figure, and gave the appearance of a light tan on her olive skin. It was simply designed yet classically elegant in style. Olivia had found some flats to match (she was not subjecting herself to the additional torture of heels), hitched a pair of earrings to her ears, done her makeup, and curled her hair herself. It had been less than an hour of preparation, which just so happened to be the exact amount of time she'd been willing to commit to getting ready.
"Just something I had from a while ago. I couldn't see spending money on another dress when this one still fits."
"It definitely fits," Fin agreed, a little too readily, but Phoebe only snickered at the compliment and both she and Olivia rolled their eyes at him. He clearly, very desperately wanted to be anywhere but here, and Olivia couldn't blame him, but they were stuck at this thing for the duration of the evening, and they would all have to make the best of it. At least he had Phoebe to keep him company.
"Is that Barba?"
Fin's sudden question sent a jolt through Olivia's heart as she followed her sergeant's gaze. Sure enough, standing there in a pressed, black-tie ensemble with his beard perfectly trimmed and hair immaculately styled was Rafael Barba. One hand was tucked in his pocket, while the elbow of his opposite arm was perched on the bar, a glass of scotch lodged in his grip. He looked bored out of his skull, as Olivia always knew he was when he had to come to these things; they’d always had much the same viewpoint of gatherings like this.
It didn't seem as if Rafael had seen her yet, and she turned back around. Phoebe had a sympathetic glint in her eye. Fin looked curious. "Wonder what he's doin' here?"
"I have no idea," Olivia muttered. And she didn't. Much as she didn't like to admit it, she tried to keep tabs on Rafael, discreetly of course. Whenever she saw Rita Calhoun in the hallways of the courthouse, she made it a point to ask about him. Whether that made her a caring human being or a coward she still hadn't figured out yet, though Rita had left little doubt of her own opinion on that question the last time Olivia had seen her.
"I've never known anyone to be upset at someone for trying to protect them."
Olivia had found herself caught in an elevator with Rita and no one else, and for the next thirty seconds at least, the defense attorney had her witness in a box of their own making, and she was going to take advantage of it.
"Have you even talked to him?" Rita asked her, standing barely two feet away from her in the lift. "Did you ask him why he felt the need to protect you?"
"He was trying to protect my reputation and my career, which I didn't ask him to do, and I could've done on my own-"
"Both of which mean everything to you, but no, those weren't the only things, and you weren't the only person he was trying to protect, Captain," Rita glared at her. "You're an investigator at heart, Benson. He's put his career on the line for you in the past. He's been there for you since the day you met him. You have no idea the amount of devotion and respect and admiration that man feels for you. The least you can do is hear him out." The elevator dinged.
"And until you do," Rita pinned her with a cold look, "don't call him to defend any of your 'deserving victims'. Leave him alone."
Olivia hadn't seen Rita since, though now as she looked back over her shoulder at Rafael, she wondered if she'd have to contend with Calhoun tonight. It was funny, in a sense; Rita had done for Rafael what Olivia used to do all the time, without a second thought. How many times had both she and he defied their bosses, or faced the headwinds coming at them from 1PP and the DA's office to forge ahead on a case knowing it was the right thing to do? Olivia had put herself front and center during the Baby Drew trial. Her face had been plastered next to Rafael's on newsreels and tabloids, the brass had come down on her telling her to stay away from him, and she hadn't. She'd simply refused to leave him hanging out to dry.
He'd meant too much to her.
Olivia finally blinked herself back from her memories and into reality to realize that Rafael had caught her staring at him. A kind of confused look settled on his bearded face, and she knew he was openly wondering, other than what she was doing there, what it was she could be thinking if she'd lost her gaze on him for so long. She had no other response than to flash a quick if sad smile his way. In return, he lifted his glass, as cool a greeting from him if there ever was one, at least when it came to her.
But it was something at least. Better than the cold shoulder she'd been giving him for a year and a half now. Her chest ached.
God, she missed him.
"You know, if you wanna find a pen and a napkin or somethin', I can slip him a note, tell him to meet you somewhere."
Olivia cast Fin a less than amused glare. "No, thanks."
*
"So, have you heard from him at all?"
Ayanna took a sip of her drink. "His last check in was about three weeks ago, give or take a few days."
Olivia allowed her stomach to unfurl a little at that news. So, Elliot was okay, at least. Or as okay as he could be in a long term, deep undercover operation, which she still knew nothing about, and she knew she would know nothing about until he was back.
Olivia still had worries about that, about Elliot going undercover. She knew it was a facet of his job, especially in a task force focused on organized crime - hell, it was a requirement. But under for so long, getting lost in a character, in a life not his own, when his world had collapsed barely three years ago and he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken any longer? She couldn't help but think about the months he'd been under as Eddie Ashes. Olivia hadn't been lying when she'd told Elliot that she had real fears that he would be lost to Eddie Ashes forever if he didn't come up for air soon. Olivia had never really liked undercover work, had never had the talent for it that Elliot and Cassidy did, but she got it. She understood the draw of it, the pull, even the desire to just not be yourself for a few hours, a day or two, or for however long the assignment called for. To immerse yourself in a character carefully constructed and created that was so unlike you that you would never think of all the problems in your own life.
For Elliot, Olivia knew going undercover had been an escape from the grief and trauma of losing his wife. For all of their problems before Elliot had left NYPD, he'd said shortly after the blast that he and Kathy had been happy, that they were content, more connected than they'd been in a long time. And for all the times that Kathy had told Olivia that there were things Elliot experienced in his job that she, even as his wife, would never understand, Olivia knew that Kathy had been Elliot's foundation, his solid rock since they were teenagers. Her death - her murder - had ripped open a hole in Elliot's heart, in his very soul, that would never be stitched closed.
"I saw Barba here earlier. You talk to him?'
"No," Olivia rocked herself back into her current reality, knowing her thoughts had gotten away from her. "I - we saw each other, but." She shrugged. There was no 'but'. They'd seen each other. She'd smiled, he'd lifted his scotch, they'd both gone on about their nights.
"It's okay to want to forgive him."
"What?" Olivia paused her wine glass halfway to her lips.
"Barba. It's okay if you want to forgive him." Ayanna shrugged a bare shoulder at her. Olivia had no idea if she was on the hunt that evening or what, but Ayanna Bell was dressed to impress, and Olivia had no trouble believing she'd catch whatever prey interested her that night."Stabler can take all the air out of the room," she continued. "You're loyal, pretty much to a fault. Especially to him. Even after he left the way he did. And I get you felt like you needed to be in his corner when all that stuff with Wheatley was goin' on, but Barba's intent was never a bad one. Don't let your feelings for Stabler - whatever they are - dictate how you handle Barba."
Olivia blinked. "... He hurt me." A voice in the back of her mind whispered that they had both hurt her, but Olivia pushed it away, as she had for months now.
"Yeah, and so did Stabler when he ditched you for ten years, but I don't see you giving him the cold shoulder," Ayanna gave voice to the thoughts in Olivia's head unapologetically, and lifted a dark eyebrow in challenge.
"Barba defended the man who murdered my ex-partner's wife. Kathy was my friend too."
"I get it," Ayanna nodded, "but he was also right, Liv; any other defense attorney would've torn you up on the stand, and with the political climate the way it is these days? NYPD brass would've tossed your ass out on the street to save themselves the embarrassment, no questions asked. In that kind of situation who do you think Barba would be loyal to? Some cop he's never met? Or you? And don't stand there and try to tell me that you didn't confide in Barba what Elliot leaving did to you. I might be a few years behind you, but the NYPD rumor mill is strong. If you think it's a secret, it's not. If you think people still don't talk about the dynamic duo of Stabler and Benson, and what happened in that squad room ten years ago, and what happened after, and what people think went on between the two of you at some point -" Ayanna shook her head. "You're not stupid, Captain. I know you've heard people talk. Especially since he's been back."
Olivia briefly considered pulling rank to stop the conversation, but that idea fled her mind just as quickly as it entered. They weren't at work for one (they weren't on the clock at least), but it wouldn't be fair to Ayanna either. Olivia had a good working relationship with her, halfway considered her a friend, and she wanted to keep it that way. Especially because more often than not Bell’s instincts were sharp, and she was right more often than she was wrong.
Sometimes in matters that Olivia really wished she wasn't.
"It's just complicated," Benson muttered, settled for, really. She could see the tiny gleam of victory in Ayanna's eyes at having won the argument.
"Well, here's your chance to uncomplicate it."
"What do you mean?"
"Barba's heading over here. And that's my queue to go ask this very pretty lady over at the bar if she'd like to have a drink with me."
Despite her anxiety at Rafael's approach, which she confirmed with a quick glance over her shoulder, Olivia smiled at the other woman. "Hope I didn't cramp your style there, Sergeant."
Ayanna smiled over the rim of her glass and glided away, towards the bar and said pretty lady, and Olivia just stood there. Waited. Set the now empty wine glass on a server's tray as they passed by.
It was excruciating, really. She knew he was coming. She knew that he knew that she knew he was coming. But he was taking his time.
Giving her time to find an excuse to move, to leave, to dodge him, she knew.
Jesus Christ, could he just get on with it. What was taking him so damn-
"It occurs to me that we both hate functions such as these."
Olivia took a breath, steeling herself, and turned around.