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Chapter Text

Olivia stood in front of Rafael’s door, her hand hovering just above the smooth surface, heart pounding in her chest. The last few days had left her body aching, and the angry purple bruise beneath her eye was a stark reminder of just how much she'd endured. But it wasn’t the physical pain that had worn her down; it was something deeper. Something that had been gnawing at her for a long time now. The exhaustion wasn’t just in her muscles—it was in her soul, and it'd been creeping in ever since she’d let Rafael walk out of her life with a promise to be there if she ever stopped feeling betrayed by him.  

Back then, she’d been so sure. Cutting him out had felt like the only right thing to do. Her anger had burned hot and righteous—Rafael had crossed a line, defending Wheatley of all people, and she’d been caught in the middle of him and Elliot. She’d felt betrayed. But now, standing at his door, the rawness of the past few days still clinging to her, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe the anger hadn’t been all about Rafael. Maybe some of it had been about her.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the dark, swollen skin beneath her eye, a grim reminder of how her personal battles had taken a toll on her in every possible way. She had been punishing him, blaming him for things that had more to do with her past. Her inability to separate the present from her trauma. When Rafael decided to defend Wheatley against her wishes, she hadn’t seen it for what it was—him trying to protect her. Instead, she saw it as him choosing Wheatley over her, it was like he was walking away from her, Just like he had when he’d left her on the courthouse steps all those years ago.

And of course, there was Elliot. His return had thrown her off balance, complicated things. It had brought back the old wounds, the ten years he had been gone without a word, they had only fueled her anger toward Rafael. She had unfairly lumped them together, letting her unresolved feelings for Elliot color her reactions to Rafael. How could he have predicted she’d react that way? She’d been punishing him for that, too.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago—when she and Amanda were holed up in that dingy motel in Woodstock—that things started to shift. Amanda had a way of doing that, cutting through Olivia’s defenses without even meaning to.

They had been sharing a cheap bottle of boxed wine in plastic cups, trying to shake off the stress of the job, when Amanda had brought him up. They’d already discussed Elliot and her baggage with him, and she was in no mood to rehash her reasons for keeping her distance from either man. Carisi and Amanda both seemed to be staunchly team Barba and had already questioned her several times.

“I’m just saying, Liv,” Amanda drawled, one hand raised in defense, “everyone knows Barba was just trying to protect you. How long are you gonna hold it against him?”

Olivia had scoffed, her body slumping against the worn motel chair. She barely wanted to talk about it, let alone admit how much it had been eating at her, but she felt the need to defend herself. Defend her feelings. “It’s not just Wheatley, Amanda. It’s not.” Her voice had been softer than she wanted, betraying her.

Amanda had arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking in that way they did when she knew someone was holding back. “Then what is it? What did he do that was so bad that you can’t forgive him, but you can forgive Stabler going radio-silent for ten years?”

“Funny, Barba asked me the same thing.” She muttered, but her vice held no humor.

“Well?” Rollins pressed.

Olivia had hesitated, staring into her cup as if it held answers. She hadn’t told anyone the real reason Barba’s defense of Wheatley had hurt so much, she hadn’t even been able to admit it to herself at first, much less her therapist. “He walked away from me too, Amanda. Barba left me too.” She admitted.

“At least Elliot knows what loyalty is,” she continued, her voice sounding flimsy even to her own ears. “He would never have done what Barba did, he would've never defended Wheatley, and that’s the difference.”

But even as she said it, she knew it didn’t hold up. Rafael's betrayal had been professional, not personal, but she’d taken it to heart anyway. She’d let her old wounds and Elliot's shadow dictate her feelings, had let them push Rafael away when all he’d ever tried to do was stand by her side.

Amanda had scoffed, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “Loyalty isn’t walking away without a word for over a decade, Liv.”

Her words held no malice, but Olivia could feel the weight in them. Her heart ached, a wound that had never quite healed right.

Rollins leaned forward, her southern voice soft but insistent. “Sweetheart, do you really believe Barba left you? He kept in touch after he left the DA’s office. Every time you’ve called, he has come. Why do you think that is, Liv? He may have left the job, even the city, but he never left you.”

Amanda’s words had stayed with her ever since. She’d meant to reach out sooner, but work had been busy, with joint task forces, training new detectives, and balancing Stabler’s chaotic appearances in her life. Then Rollins had left the squad, and that had felt like another abandonment. She’d just been on an emotional rollercoaster and wasn’t ready to face the possibility of rejection, even though Rafael had assured her he’d be waiting. And now, here she was, outside Rafael’s apartment, her hand still hovering as if she wasn’t sure if she could take the next step.

BX9, the violent gang that had terrorized New York City, was still at large. Noah was still with his half-brother, and the silence of her apartment felt suffocating. But the weight she carried wasn't just about the case, or even Noah—it was the space between her and Rafael that had been growing for months, maybe longer. Since he’d left the DA’s office.

Her fingers finally made contact with the door. She knocked softly at first, then a little harder. For a moment, she thought about turning around and leaving. She could text him, or call, keep a safe distance. But that’s what had created this space between them—distance. She couldn’t do that anymore.

The sound of her knock seemed to echo in the quiet hallway, amplifying the silence that followed. Olivia shifted on her feet, her mind racing. What would she say when he opened the door? How could she even begin to explain the mess of emotions she hadn’t even fully untangled herself?

The door swung open with a creak, and there he was. Rafael Barba stood framed in the doorway, a slight frown pulling at his brow as if he hadn’t been expecting her—at least not tonight. His gaze immediately swept over her face, and the tension in his jaw hardened when his eyes landed on the bruise beneath her eye. For a second, Olivia thought she saw a flash of something raw in his expression—concern, maybe anger, definitely surprise. But Rafael, ever composed, buried it quickly. Sometimes she hated that, how in control he always was.

“Olivia…” his voice was soft, tentative, carrying the weight of everything they hadn’t said to each other. He stepped aside without another word, silently offering her an invitation inside.

Olivia hesitated, taking a breath before crossing the threshold into his apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, and suddenly the space felt smaller, the distance between them more suffocating than it had outside.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The tension simmered in the air, thick with all the unsaid words, the pain and confusion, and the feelings she still didn’t know how to name. Rafael stood a few steps away, watching her closely, his eyes dark and searching. She could feel his gaze flicker over the bruise again, and this time, he didn’t hide his concern.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice low, controlled, but with an edge of frustration. “That looks bad. Did you at least get checked out?”

“It’s nothing,” Olivia brushed it off, even though she knew it wasn’t. The ache in her face was nothing compared to the knot of tension in her chest. She couldn’t afford to talk about the case right now, couldn’t lose her nerve. She had come here for something else entirely. “I’ve had worse,” she finished, her voice steady, but they both knew the truth. She had endured so much, physically and emotionally, over the years—too much.

Rafael's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes darkening at the unspoken name hanging between them. William Lewis. His memory, a specter that neither of them could shake.

"Olivia..." Rafael began, his voice strained, barely more than a whisper. His face twisted with a mixture of pain and guilt, his eyes closing, the weight of knowing what she'd endured—what he hadn't been able to save her from—etched in his every feature.

She shook her head quickly, cutting him off before he could say more. "I didn’t come here to talk about that, Rafael," she said, her voice firm but laced with a tremor of vulnerability. She didn’t want to open that door—the one that led to Lewis and all the horrors that still haunted her. Not tonight. Not with him. Not when they had their own unfinished business to handle.

His lips pressed together, but he nodded slightly, understanding the unspoken boundary. He wasn’t going to push. He never did, and maybe that’s why she always seemed to come to him—because he knew how to give her space when she needed it, but still managed to stay close enough to be there when she was ready.

Olivia took a deep breath, willing herself to find the words. It felt almost impossible to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside her, but she knew she had to. She hadn’t come here just to stand in silence and let the distance between them stretch even further.

"I’m sorry," she blurted out, the words spilling from her before she could stop them. The apology felt raw, jagged, but it had been weighing on her for so long that it almost felt like a relief to finally say it.

Rafael’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. "Sorry?" His voice was soft, but there was a tension in it. "For what?"

"For pushing you away," Olivia began, her voice cracking as she forced the words out. "For making you think I blamed you when I didn’t even know what I was feeling." She met his eyes, letting herself be vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. He could see it all now—the fear, the anger, the loneliness. "I was so angry… but not just at you. At everything. At myself. For letting myself get pulled back into Elliot’s orbit."

She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. “I wasn’t lying at Forlini’s when I said it wasn’t about Elliot—at least, not entirely. I wasn’t angry because I’m in love with him. I’ll always care about him, but I’m not in love with him.”

Rafael’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“I know you think I am. I know everyone thinks I am. I thought I was, for a long time. But what we had, what I felt for him... that wasn’t love. Not the kind that lasts, not the kind that’s real. What we had was... intense, but it wasn’t sustainable.” She glanced down, feeling the heat rise in her chest, the rawness of what she was admitting hitting her harder than she expected. “I didn’t defend Stabler because I’m in love with him.”

She looked back up at him, her gaze steady now, more certain. “I asked you not to defend Wheatley, and you did it anyway... seeing you on his side of the court? It felt like you were choosing him over me. Like we weren’t on the same side anymore. Like you were... walking away, again.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of everything they hadn’t said before. The room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in around them, and Olivia could feel her heart pounding in her chest, memories of that moment—three Februarys ago—flooding her mind. The day he had left her standing on the courthouse steps, after telling her how she’d brought color into his life, but that he had to move on. The ache of that moment still lingered between them, like an unfinished sentence.

“Olivia, you have to know that I wasn’t walking away from you,” Rafael said, his voice steady despite the emotional weight behind it. He took another step closer, closing the distance between them, his green eyes locked onto hers with a quiet intensity. “I never walked away from you.”

Her breath hitched, but she held his gaze, shaking her head slightly. "I know that now. Even when you were in Iowa, you called, texted, stayed in touch... but it didn’t change how it felt. Not having you by my side anymore, not working together." She paused, her voice softening. He had done more than Elliot had ever done, and her mind had still conflated the two men. They couldn’t be more different. "I didn’t realize how much I relied on you until you weren’t there."

Rafael’s voice was low, almost hoarse, as he spoke. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it either. Being with you every day, in the thick of it… It’s different, Liv.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers, filled with something raw and unguarded. His shoulders were tense, like he was carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said for months, years maybe. “Iowa felt like a world away, and I hated that distance between us. I just couldn’t stay in New York after Drew and the trial,” he admitted, his gaze dropping for a moment. His fingers flexed at his sides, restless, like the memory still stung. “I felt like I was drowning.”

Olivia could remember just how haunted he’d been in the days just before the jury had found him not guilty. She would have done anything to make it better for him, soothe his pain, but hadn’t been able to. She’d been forced to watch him walk away without a word. She was tired of watching people walk away from her.

She shifted slightly, stepping closer to him, their bodies almost touching. Her voice was soft, filled with quiet understanding. She had come to terms with his actions a long time ago, she had forgiven him for all perceived transgressions. “You did what you had to,” she said, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm, a comforting gesture. “I’ve always understood that Rafa—it just didn’t stop me from missing you, and it was easier to be angry at you than to miss you.”

Rafael’s gaze lifted, meeting hers again. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers, his touch warm and familiar. There was something vulnerable in the way his fingers tightened around hers. “I missed you too, Liv. I still miss you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

They stood there, so close she could feel his breath against her skin. The air between them was charged, heavy with unspoken words and years of longing. Olivia’s chest tightened as the weight of his words settled deep inside her. Her eyes softened as she looked up at him, the distance between them shrinking in more ways than one. She had been so afraid she’d ruined everything, afraid that coming to him now would mean rejection. She hadn’t believed him when he said he’d be waiting. Deep down, she hadn’t believed she deserved for him to wait for her.

“I don’t want to miss you anymore,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. There was a fragility to her tone, but it was layered with hope, with the possibility of something new. Her eyes searched his, silently wanting him to understand, to feel what she was finally allowing herself to say. She had wanted him for so long, and she was tired of wanting him. She was tired of missing him.

Rafael’s breath caught as her words sank in. His gaze softened, and he closed the final gap between them, his hand rising to gently cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, as he placed his forehead against her own, a tender gesture that sent a warmth spreading through her chest.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with quiet certainty. His eyes, dark and full of emotion, held hers as if he was trying to say all the things he couldn’t find the words for.

She leaned into his touch, letting his warm fingers soothe the ache that had settled in her heart. Her breath caught as the weight of everything between them seemed to dissolve in that single, shared moment. His eyes softened further, reflecting the same vulnerability she felt—like he had been waiting for this, for her, to break the silence between them.

And in that moment, everything she had been so afraid of seemed to melt away. She didn’t have to miss him. They didn’t have to miss each other.

“Do you have to get home to Noah?” Rafael asked softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. They had been standing there, forehead to forehead, so close that her breath mingled with his, but neither had dared to move. Her body was beginning to protest the extended position, a dull ache spreading through her legs and shoulders, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to break the moment; didn’t want to lose the quiet peace she hadn’t felt in months.

Olivia exhaled slowly, her lips barely curving into a smile as she opened her eyes. “He’s with his half-brother tonight,” she murmured, her voice soft, intimate in the space between them. “I don’t have to rush home.”

“His half-brother?” Rafael asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“It’s a long story,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet sigh. “He’s Johnny D’s kid. Noah found him using an ancestry DNA kit.” She let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t quite believe it. So much had changed in the months since she and Rafael had last talked. There had been moments—so many moments—where she’d wanted to pick up the phone, to reach out and apologize sooner. But the longer she waited, the harder it had seemed.

She could feel Rafael’s gaze on her, his concern palpable, but he didn’t push. He just listened, like he always did. She loved that about him, even though it felt far too soon for those thoughts. They’d been dancing around each other for so long, she had to hold herself back from saying it.

 The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but heavy with everything that hadn’t been said. “There were so many times I wanted to call you,” she continued, her voice softening, almost as if confessing. “But I didn’t know how to explain what was happening... or why I’d let things get so bad between us. And every time I waited, it felt like it got harder.”

Rafael’s brow furrowed, his hand sliding down her arm to rest lightly on her wrist, grounding her. “You don’t have to explain everything tonight, Liv. We’ve both been through a lot. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His words hung in the air, offering her a comfort she hadn’t realized she was desperate for. She nodded, the weight of her unspoken guilt lifting slightly as she met his eyes. “I know. I just... I wish I hadn’t waited so long.”

His expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. “It doesn’t matter how long it took. What matters is that we’re here now.”

She gave a small nod, her chest tightening with both regret and relief.

A few seconds passed, the silence between them stretching but not uncomfortable. Rafael’s eyes lingered on hers, his gaze soft and searching. Then, his voice came, quiet but filled with a kind of hope she hadn’t expected. She almost couldn’t believe she’d been afraid he’d turn her away.

“So… does that mean you’ll spend the night?”

Olivia’s breath caught at the question.

 She hadn’t been thinking that far ahead—she had barely managed to make it to his door. But now, standing here, his hand still resting gently on her wrist, the warmth of his presence surrounding her, the idea didn’t seem so impossible. She could feel her heart beating faster, the vulnerability of the moment pressing down on her, but she wasn’t scared. She’d never felt safer than she did when she was with Rafael. And it wasn’t because he was the strongest or the biggest, it was because he listened to her. He cared about her needs, her wants. He had a level of interest in her life that Elliot just didn’t.

She tilted her head slightly, giving him a small, tentative smile. “If you want me to,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafael’s eyes softened even more, the wrinkles around them deepening. His fingers tightened gently around hers, the corners of his mouth lifting into a sheepish smile. “I do, Liv. I really do.”

The words were simple, but they held so much more. A promise, an invitation, a step forward. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Olivia didn’t feel the need to run. She nodded slowly, her heart finally allowing her to stay.

“Then I’ll stay,” she whispered back, her voice steady.

Olivia hadn’t expected to spend the night in Rafael’s bed.

When he suggested she stay, she’d assumed she’d be crashing on his couch, just like she had so many times before—back when late nights at the office blurred into dawn and the idea of going home was secondary to exhaustion. It had always felt safe, that unspoken agreement between them. The quiet comfort of knowing he was close but not too close. So, when she agreed to stay tonight, she pictured the same arrangement—a quiet, respectful distance, the soft sound of his breathing from the other room lulling her to sleep.

But tonight was different.

After their conversation, she’d expected him to offer her the usual—a change of clothes, maybe something to drink. Instead, Rafael had gently led her toward his bedroom, his hand still warm in hers, and she hadn’t pulled away. She hadn’t even hesitated. The familiar walls she used to keep between them suddenly felt unnecessary. But as they stood at the threshold of his room, something inside her shifted. Her heart pounded with a new awareness, a flicker of uncertainty in the face of what they were stepping into.

She had never imagined it would happen like this.

They had made up, cleared the air, and untangled the mess of emotions they had carried for months, but this—crossing a line they’d skirted for nearly a decade—was something else entirely. Was this really happening? Were they ready to step into a space they’d both been too afraid to admit they wanted?

Her mind raced as they stepped inside, the room quieter, more intimate than she had imagined. She glanced around, half-expecting to feel out of place, but the warmth of his hand still in hers kept her grounded. She wasn’t sure what came next, wasn’t sure how to navigate this new territory, but she didn’t want to pull back. Not this time.

Rafael paused, turning to face her, and for a moment, there was a flicker of the same uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t rushing anything. He was giving her space to decide, as he always had. But something was different—something unspoken but undeniable hung in the air between them.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice gentle, as if he sensed her inner conflict.

Olivia looked up at him, searching his eyes for a moment. She nodded, though her fingers trembled slightly as they tightened around his. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she whispered, though the knot in her chest said otherwise. “I just... didn’t expect this.” She wasn’t sure if she meant his offer or the flutter of hope it ignited in her.

 Rafael’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. He didn’t seem to understand what she meant. “I just thought you’d sleep better in my bed,” he explained, his tone warm but practical. “You’re injured, Liv. Yeah, you’ve got the black eye, but I noticed you wincing ever since you stepped into my apartment.”

Her face flushed, as she realized her mistake. She let her hands slip from his grasp, retreating a few steps, a quiet tension knotting in her chest. Had she misread everything? Was she the only one feeling this shift? Of course. He was just being considerate. Olivia felt her breath catch, embarrassment creeping in. She had let her guard slip—let herself imagine something more than Rafael had intended.  The tension in her chest twisted slightly, and she forced a small, appreciative smile to cover the awkwardness she felt creeping in.

“Right,” she said softly, nodding as if to convince herself more than him. “You’ve always been a gentleman.” Her voice came out a little tighter than she’d meant, and she glanced away briefly, trying to regain her composure. The room suddenly felt smaller, more intimate than she was prepared for, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

Rafael, ever observant, didn’t miss the shift in her demeanor. He took a small step closer, his gaze softening as he studied her. “Liv…” His voice was gentle, as if he understood what was really happening beneath the surface. “It’s not just that.” His hand brushed her arm, his touch light but steady, grounding her in the moment. “You’ve been through a lot, and I want you to be comfortable. Safe.”

Her breath caught again, the sincerity in his voice making her heartbeat just a little faster. He wasn’t rushing her. He wasn’t pushing for anything beyond what she was ready to give. But the tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze held hers—it was clear there was more he wasn’t saying. It was clear they were both still holding back, and she didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“I just...” Olivia started, her voice faltering. She took a small breath, the vulnerability she had been holding back rising to the surface. “I thought maybe after we talked, we were on the same page. That you felt the same way.”

Rafael’s expression softened, his eyes searching hers, as if he was trying to find the right words. He took a small step closer, narrowing the space between them. His hand reached for hers again, his fingers wrapping around hers gently, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

“I do, Liv,” he whispered, his voice low, full of quiet emotion. “I’ve felt the same way for a long time.” His words were steady, measured, as if he was holding back from pouring all of it out at once. He wasn’t rushing her. He was meeting her where she was.

Her heart skipped a beat at the confession she hadn’t been sure she would hear. But before she could respond, Rafael continued, his tone steady but filled with care. “But you’ve been through a lot this week, physically and mentally,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “And you don’t have to tell me about the case—not tonight—but I don’t want to rush things.”

Olivia felt her breath catch as Rafael’s words sank in. His hand was warm in hers, grounding her, but his response sent a fresh wave of emotion surging through her. She had been so afraid of rejection, of misreading everything between them, and now here he was—saying exactly what she’d needed to hear, and yet more than she’d expected.

He wasn’t brushing her off. He wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t want her. He was giving her something she hadn’t even realized she needed: time.

His voice had been soft but firm, filled with a deep understanding of who she was and the weight she carried. Rafael wasn’t just worried about rushing things; he was concerned about her, about them. The layers of pain and trauma she so often buried were now out in the open, and he wasn’t going to let their moment be tainted by the storm swirling in her life.

Olivia blinked, her chest tightening as Rafael’s words hung in the air between them. She swallowed, her throat dry, and nodded slightly—a mixture of relief and tenderness settling over her.

He was right, of course.

Jumping into bed together probably wasn’t the best idea right now. For starters, her body was still sore, and she wasn’t sure how grunting in pain would play out as sexy. On top of that, she was vulnerable—between being greenlit by BX9 and having to send Noah away, she felt like she holding by a thread.

But Rafael always seemed to know when to give her space and when to stay close.

After a few moments, warmth spread through her as she felt Rafael kiss her cheek softly. The simple intimacy of it caught her off guard. It wasn’t rushed or charged with urgency like the moment she felt when knocking on his door—it was grounding, comforting, as if Rafael was quietly assuring her that she didn’t have to carry everything alone anymore. That he was there for her, and she didn’t have to worry about him leaving.

“Let me get you something to wear,” he said gently, giving her hand one last reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “You can change in the bathroom. There’s a new toothbrush under the sink.”

He offered her a soft smile, full of understanding, a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. As he moved toward the closet, Olivia felt a mix of emotions surge in her chest. Her body was sore, her mind heavy, but there was also a surprising lightness—like the first deep breath after holding it for too long. She still wasn’t used to this—the idea of someone seeing through the walls she had so carefully built. Rafael had always understood her in a way she didn’t even acknowledge.

She talked such a big game about letting people in, accepting help, loving yourself, but it was hard to take her own advice. She’d spent so long believing she didn’t deserve to be happy.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her shoulders relaxing as she finally allowed herself to step fully into this moment. It wasn’t about rushing or pushing forward—it was about trust. Trust in him, trust in herself. She had spent so long doubting herself, protecting her heart, fearing that letting someone in would mean losing control, but with Rafael, it felt different. She didn’t feel out of control.

As Rafael rummaged through his closet, pulling out one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, Olivia let herself take in the quiet comfort of being in his space. His bedroom wasn’t grand or flashy, but it was warm, lived-in. A few pieces of Cuban art decorated the walls, lending it a personal touch, and his closet took up half a wall, organized but practical. It felt like him—steady, reliable, familiar. Just like the man himself.

“Here,” Rafael said, handing her the clothes with a soft smile. “It might be a little big, but I figured it’d be comfortable.”

Olivia took the clothes with a small nod of gratitude, her fingers brushing his for a brief moment. The simple contact made her heart skip, but she didn’t pull away. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but there was no need to say more.

He understood.

She turned and headed toward the bathroom, the weight of the day still lingering on her shoulders, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was also a lightness. As she shut the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, letting out a slow exhale as she looked at herself in the mirror. The bruise under her eye was still there, a stark reminder of the physical and emotional battles she had been fighting, but tonight—here, with Rafael—those battles didn’t feel so insurmountable.

Olivia splashed cold water on her face, letting the refreshing sensation wake her up a little, easing the tightness in her skin. She washed away the stress and grime of the day, watching the water run clear before patting her face dry with a towel. Her reflection stared back at her, tired but a little lighter than before.

She opened the cabinet under the sink and found the new toothbrush Rafael mentioned. The simple act of brushing her teeth, of taking care of herself in this quiet, safe space, felt oddly grounding. As the minty taste settled in her mouth, she realized how much she had needed this—just a moment to breathe, to let herself feel normal again.

After rinsing, she changed into the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants, the fabric soft and comforting against her skin. For a moment, she paused, looking at her reflection again. The clothes were too big, but somehow that made her feel more secure, as though she could let her guard down, just a little. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking off the lingering tension in her muscles, trying to release the weight of the day.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Rafael was standing by the bed, adjusting the pillows with quiet care. He glanced up when he saw her, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression warm and tender. Not for the first time that night, Olivia found herself wondering what his lips would feel like under hers. The thought made her shiver, a rush of warmth spreading through her. But she knew she’d have to wait a little longer to find out.

“You look comfortable,” he said, his tone light, teasing, but full of affection.

Olivia smiled back, her heart fluttering at the playful gleam in his eyes. “I am,” she replied, her voice softer now, more at ease. She moved closer, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. She hadn’t felt this at ease in a long time, not since before he’d left. “Thanks again, for everything.”

He shrugged, his smile widening slightly. “You don’t have to thank me, Liv.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I just want you to feel at home here.”

She nodded, her heart swelling at the simplicity of his words. Home. The idea had always felt so elusive to her. She’d thought Elliot was her home once upon a time, but he’d never been her.

Olivia moved closer to the bed, pausing just beside him, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, the tension between them not one of uncertainty, but of quiet understanding. This was new, uncharted territory, but it was theirs to explore. Together.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Rafael said softly, gesturing toward the bed. “you’ve had a long day.”

She nodded again, the exhaustion from everything she’d been through finally catching up to her.

As she climbed into the bed, the softness of the sheets and the warmth of the room wrapped around her like a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. Her aching body seemed to melt into the mattress, the tension in her muscles slowly easing. Rafael climbed in on the other side, leaving a respectful distance, but close enough that she could feel the subtle warmth of him beside her.

It was grounding, reassuring—a quiet presence she hadn’t known she’d missed so much.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the sound of their breathing syncing between them comforting.

Olivia shifted slightly, turning to face him in the dim light. Her eyes traced the contours of his face, noticing how the silver in his hair and beard seemed to catch even the faintest light, giving him an almost ethereal glow in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Rafa,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of sincerity.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his eyes meeting hers.

“I’m glad I came here tonight.”

His expression changed subtly, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He reached for her hand beneath the covers, his fingers gently intertwining with hers.

“So am I, Liv,” he whispered, his voice thick with quiet emotion. “So am I.”

Chapter Text

Olivia stirred slightly, her body instinctively seeking the warmth beside her. As consciousness slowly pulled her from the depths of sleep, she realized something was different. She was no longer curled up alone on one side of the bed.

She was wrapped in Rafael’s arms.

She blinked her eyes open; the room was still dim in the pre-dawn light. Her head rested against Rafael’s chest, his steady heartbeat thrumming softly beneath her ear. His arm was draped protectively around her, holding her close, while their legs were tangled beneath the covers. They had gone to bed apart, the only contact between them had been their hands. But now, she was completely enveloped in his warmth.

Her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of his well-worn t-shirt, her senses filling with him. His scent— clean , crisp , with a subtle hint of coffee and something uniquely Rafael—calmed her. It grounded her, and for the first time in what felt like years, she felt truly safe. She hadn’t realized just how much she had needed this— needed him . The weight of his arm draped over her waist felt like an anchor, holding her steady in a world that so often left her adrift. 

She closed her eyes, breathing him in. 

They had gone to bed carefully, each on opposite sides, unsure how far to push the fragile line they had just crossed. But sometime in the night, they had unconsciously found each other.

Olivia couldn’t have been more content to be surrounded by him—his warmth, his presence. She didn’t want to move.

For the first time in what felt like a year, she realized she had truly slept. Not the restless tossing and turning, not the half-hearted attempts at sleep while her mind spun endlessly. But deep, restful sleep—the kind that left her feeling lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. It was more than rest. It was peace. The kind of peace she hadn’t realized she’d been yearning for until now.

She shifted slightly, her uninjured cheek brushing against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. She didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to break the quiet comfort of the moment, but she couldn’t help but savor the warmth of being wrapped up in him. It felt right, so achingly right, in a way that made her regret all the time she’d spent resisting this—resisting him. Why had she held back for so long? All those years of worrying about conflicts at work, or that they couldn’t make it work, seemed so silly now, so utterly pointless. Here she was, in his bed, surrounded by him, and nothing had ever felt more natural .

Her eyes fluttered closed again, unwilling to break the spell of this rare peace, but her mind was already beginning to stir. She’d have to get up soon, get back to her apartment, shower, and head to Bronx SVU. She regretted agreeing to help McGrath, even if it had been an excuse to get closer to the BX9 investigation. She had nearly been killed, beaten in front of her son. She’d shot a kid in the knee. She still wanted answers, still needed them. But a selfish part of her, just for a little while longer, wanted to stay here, wrapped in Rafael’s arms, feeling protected in a way that went far beyond the physical.

She shifted again, turning her head to glance up at him. His face was relaxed, the faintest hint of silver in his hair catching the dim light. He looked peaceful, and it struck her how much she had missed this side of him. The quiet, unguarded Rafael. The man who had always been there for her, even when she’d pushed him away. 

Olivia let out a quiet sigh, her fingers instinctively tightening slightly against his chest. She was done pushing him away. Even tangled in his embrace, she didn’t think she could ever get close enough. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Rafael’s voice was low, still thick with sleep, but there was a knowing warmth to it. Olivia froze for a moment, unsure if she had disturbed him. But when she glanced up, his eyes were barely open, watching her with that familiar, soft gaze.

She ducked her head shyly, suddenly hyper-aware of just how close they were—legs entangled, her fingers on his chest. "Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you."

“You didn’t.” He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around her, pulling her just a little closer. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” His voice was tender, as if suddenly remembering her injuries from the night before.

Olivia shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No,” she whispered, her voice soft in the stillness of the room. “You’re not hurting me.” She meant it. She barely felt the soreness from yesterday, the pain had become a distant ache.

Rafael’s thumb brushed lightly against her back, the contact sending a wave of warmth through her. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m tired of us hurting.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying a weight far deeper than just her physical pain. Olivia could feel it—the years of unspoken hurt between them, heavier than anything she could heal overnight. He wasn’t only talking about her injuries. He was talking about all the times they’d hurt each other over the years. Her dating Tucker. Him orchestrating her transfer. Him leaving. Her not asking him to stay. Stabler. Wheatley.

The thought of how much pain they had caused each other felt suffocating, and it stung even more to realize how much of it was preventable. Why hadn’t she been honest? Why hadn’t she fought harder for him? For them? God, she had hurt him so badly. That day at Forlini’s, when she told him she felt betrayed—it haunted her. She could still see the devastation in his eyes, the way his face had fallen, as if her words had broken something in him. And in that moment, she hated herself for making him believe there was ever anything he could do to make her lose faith in him.

She swallowed hard, her fingers gripping his t-shirt a little tighter, anchoring herself to the present. "I think..." Olivia began, her voice trembling as the weight of their history threatened to overwhelm her. "I think we’ve hurt each other enough. I don’t want to keep doing that. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Her words, vulnerable and raw, hung between them like a fragile thread, binding them to the unspoken truths they had avoided for so long.

Rafael’s eyes softened as the weight of her confession settled between them. He let out a slow, deliberate breath, as though finally exhaling the years of unvoiced pain they had both carried. His hand, still resting on her back, began to trace gentle, soothing circles, grounding them both in the moment.

“I don’t want that either,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you, Liv. Not then, not now.” He paused, swallowing as if trying to find the right words. “But I know I did.”

The sincerity of his words tightened something in Olivia’s chest. They had spent so much time circling their feelings, avoiding the raw truths that were now surfacing. But here, in the quiet of the morning, there was no more hiding. No more avoiding the inevitable. It was just them—stripped bare, with nothing left but the truth.

Olivia took a slow breath, resting her cheek against his chest once more, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm her. “I know,” she whispered, her voice quiet yet resolute. “But I hurt you, too.”

For a moment, Rafael’s hand stilled against her back, and they lay there in silence, the gravity of their shared history pressing down on them both. She closed her eyes, steadying herself as the memories rushed in—all the missed chances, the unspoken words, the misunderstandings that had kept them apart. They had been standing on opposite sides of the same aching void for years, both too afraid to make the leap.

“I was angry,” Olivia admitted, her voice barely audible, but she knew he could hear her. “But no matter how angry I was, I should’ve never let you believe you were unforgivable. You weren’t. You never could be.” She hesitated, her heart tightening as she finally allowed herself to voice the words she had buried deep inside for so long. “Because there’s nothing you could do that would make you unforgivable to me, Rafa.”

Rafael’s breath caught at her words, and she felt the tension in his body slowly ease, as if a weight he had carried for years was finally being lifted. His hand, which had paused moments before, resumed its gentle motion, stroking her back in slow, calming circles. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse with emotion.

“I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly.

She shifted slightly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “I should’ve said it a long time ago,” she murmured, her voice steady. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Rafael’s eyes searched hers, and in them, Olivia saw the same vulnerability she felt deep within herself. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was looking for something. Some reassurance that what she was saying was real. That this time, they could finally begin to move past the pain and the misunderstandings that had driven them apart. Her heart clenched at the thought of how much she had made him doubt her words, how much she had hurt him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life making up for it.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly, but with a certainty that made her heart flutter. “We both made mistakes. We both hurt each other.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing against her skin as if to reassure them both. “But if we can forgive each other, Liv… maybe we can stop hurting. Maybe we can start healing.”

She nodded, her throat tightening with emotion. “I want that,” she whispered, her voice thick with feeling. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want to move forward. With you.”

His lips curved into a small, tender smile. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the warmth of it lingering on her skin. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he murmured against her. “Together.”

“Together,” she echoed, her voice a quiet hum of agreement as her eyes drifted shut. She let herself bask in the moment—the warmth of his lips, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the promise that, this time, they would find their way.

Rafael’s lips lingered for a moment on her forehead before he pulled back slightly, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Olivia’s eyes fluttered open, her heart swelling at the tender gesture that filled the quiet room with a comforting warmth. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to disturb the delicate peace between them.

“What time do you have to leave?” he asked, his thumb tracing light circles on her shoulder.

Olivia sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Soon,” she murmured, though she made no effort to move. The thought of leaving this quiet haven, this bubble of safety, was something she wasn’t ready to face yet. But reality was waiting for her outside these walls, as it always did.

Rafael frowned, a flicker of disappointment softening his features. “Why so early?” he asked, frustration lacing his voice. It was clear he already knew the answer but hated hearing it all the same.

“It’s this case I’m working... well, technically, the case I’m not supposed to be working,” she admitted with a weary sigh, the weight of it pressing back on her shoulders. She glanced at the clock—barely past four in the morning. Too early, too much weighing her down.

Rafael’s eyes darkened with concern as he gently brushed his thumb beneath her bruised eye. “Is that how you got this?” he asked quietly, his touch delicate, as if he was afraid to hurt her even more.

The tenderness of his touch sent warmth through her, but the memory of that night gripped her tightly. The flash of lying on the street, the pain shooting through her body, and Noah’s terrified cries—it all rushed back with a force she couldn’t push away. Her breath hitched as she tried to keep it together, but the fear she had buried for so long clawed its way to the surface.

She felt the sob rising, and though she tried to swallow it down, it came anyway, shuddering through her. The terror of that night felt too raw, too overwhelming to suppress any longer. “Rafa…” Her voice cracked, splintering with emotion. “I thought—” But the words wouldn’t come. The weight of it all caught in her throat, choking her.

Rafael stilled, his thumb resting gently beneath her eye, as he leaned in closer. His gaze softened as it met hers, filled with a quiet understanding that tugged at something deep inside her. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice steady and sure. He cradled the back of her head, pulling her gently against his chest. “You’re safe now, Liv. I’ve got you.”

The flood of emotion spilled over, and Olivia let herself collapse into his embrace, feeling the solid comfort of his arms wrap around her. It was in that moment, with Rafael holding her, that she allowed herself to let go, knowing that for once, she didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, the tears spilling over before she could stop them. She hadn’t let herself break down before—not in front of Noah, not at work. But here, in the quiet safety of Rafael’s arms, surrounded by the familiar comfort of his scent, the fear she’d buried so deeply finally surged to the surface. The sobs came, raw and unrelenting, shaking her body as she fell into him, surrendering to the warmth and protection of his embrace.

“I thought I was going to die,” she whispered into his chest, her voice so fragile it barely held together. “I was lying there... and Noah, he came back outside.” Her breath hitched, and a fresh wave of tears burned in her throat. “They attacked me in front of my son, Rafa. Right in front of our apartment. The one place he’s supposed to feel safe.” Her voice broke, the last word nearly swallowed by her anguish.

Rafael’s grip tightened, pulling her trembling form closer against his chest as if he could shield her from the pain that haunted her. Every sob that wracked her body felt like it was tearing a piece of him apart. He hated that she had been forced to endure this—that she had been left so vulnerable and terrified in a place that was supposed to be her refuge.

His hand gently rubbed soothing circles on her back, but inside, a storm brewed. “Jesus, Liv...” His voice was soft, though the fierce protectiveness was unmistakable. “Who?” The question barely came out, strained and rough with the anger he was struggling to hold back. He wanted to unleash that fury, but she didn’t need his rage right now. She needed his strength, his calm, and that was what he gave her as he held her tighter, silently promising her that she was safe now.

“BX9,” she spat, the bitterness in her voice unmistakable. The name left a sour taste in her mouth, like something vile she couldn't quite get rid of.

Rafael gently pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes, his expression hardening with recognition. “BX9?” he asked, his voice low and edged with barely contained fury. “The same gang that sent Felipe Heredio to threaten me?” His eyes searched hers, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but it was his concern for her that stood out the most.

“I worked a case with the Bronx Gang Unit that put away two of their members, and two others died. I was greenlit.” Her voice trembled as she continued, the memory searing into her mind like a permanent scar. “A group of them were standing on the street when Noah and I got home. There was graffiti next to the building... I told him to go inside immediately, but I was outnumbered. One of them clipped me on a bike, the others had machetes.”

Rafael's jaw clenched, but he kept his touch gentle, his thumb brushing soothing circles along her back as if he could somehow erase the horror. He could see how deeply the fear had scarred her, how much she had endured just to survive. If he could, he would take away all of it—the terror, the violence, the pain.

“They were just kids, Rafa,” Olivia whispered, her voice breaking. “Fifteen, maybe. Just a few years older than Noah... and I had to shoot one of them in the knee. If I hadn’t, he would’ve killed me.” Her tears were falling harder now, her body shaking with the weight of it all—the guilt, the fear, the helplessness of that moment.

Rafael’s heart clenched painfully at the thought of her, terrified and vulnerable, having to make that choice. His hand moved to cradle her head, pulling her closer to him, his lips brushing against her hair as he whispered, “You did what you had to, Liv. You survived. You protected Noah. You did everything right.”

He didn’t know what else to say, how to make it better, but his arms tightened around her, offering her the only thing he could—his unwavering presence. His thumb continued to stroke her back in slow, rhythmic motions, grounding her as she cried against him.

Olivia let herself cry, for herself, for Noah, for the kids she’d shot, for all the kids who’d been caught up in something they never should’ve had to deal with. She’d been so focused on making sure Noah was alright and working the case, she hadn’t truly let herself just feel. Feel the fear, the guilt, the pain.

“I know,” she whispered as she cried, but the guilt was there, hidden in the lines of her face, lingering beneath the surface. “But it doesn’t change how it feels, Rafael. I had to make a choice. In front of my son.”

The pain in her voice broke his heart. He hated that she had to carry this weight, that she had been put in a position where there was no good outcome, only survival. And he hated even more that this was her life—constantly walking the razor’s edge between protecting others and sacrificing pieces of herself. He could see it in her eyes, the torment she couldn’t quite voice, the trauma of it all etched in every line of her body.

Rafael’s hand moved to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer so that her forehead rested against his chin. “I’m so sorry, Liv,” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You and Noah.” he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment, offering what little comfort he could.

“Is that why he’s with his half-brother?” He asked once he’d pulled back.

She nodded, sniffling, “it’s not safe for him in the city right now. They live in a quiet suburban town in Woodstock, they’re normal .”

Rafael’s heart clenched at her words—the exhaustion and longing in her voice when she said the word normal. It was something Olivia had never really had, not in all the years he’d known her. Normal wasn’t her life. It wasn’t her world. She had spent so much of her time fighting, sacrificing, and protecting others that normal had become a distant concept, something always just out of reach.

He stroked her cheek softly, his gaze steady on hers. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said quietly, his voice full of conviction. “Keeping him safe... making sure he’s away from all this.”

Olivia gave a small nod, her lips pressing together tightly. She knew it logically—of course, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t stop the ache in her chest, the guilt gnawing at her for sending Noah away. He was her world, and not having him close felt like losing a part of herself. Her brown eyes welled with fresh tears, her voice trembling as she spoke. “It just... it feels like I’m failing him. Like I’m letting him down by not being able to protect him here .”

Rafael’s hand moved to cradle her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that slipped down her cheeks. “You’re not failing him, Liv, not by a longsho t,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but insistent. “You’re keeping him safe. You’re doing everything you can for him. That’s not failure—that’s love .”

She let out a shaky breath, his words slowly sinking in, but the guilt still clung stubbornly to her. She’d sent Noah to the McCanns because it was the right thing to do, to keep him safe, but it didn’t make it any easier. The McCanns lived that normal life—the kind of life she had always wanted to give Noah. The quiet suburban town, the stability, the sense of safety that seemed so far from the violence she dealt with daily. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t offer that to him herself. She’d been so focused on protecting him, on keeping him out of harm’s way, that it felt like she was missing out on giving him what he truly needed: normalcy.

She rested her forehead against Rafael’s, seeking comfort in his closeness. “I just want him to have a chance at normal,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “With the McCanns, he’s got that. They live in this quiet little neighborhood, with Christmas lights, and backyard barbecues, and... it’s the kind of life I can ’t give him. No matter how much I want to.”

Rafael’s thumb stilled on her cheek, his expression softening. He understood her fears, the endless weight she carried as a mother trying to do what was best for her son. “You’re giving him something just as important, Liv,” he murmured. “You’re keeping him safe... you’re loving him . That’s more than enough.”

Olivia let out a shaky breath, trying to let his words comfort her. But even though her head knew Rafael was right, her heart still ached. She had spent so long fighting battles, both personal and professional, that she wondered if Noah would ever have a life untouched by the chaos she carried with her.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to get out of the city too,” Rafael suggested softly, his voice careful, as if he already knew how she’d respond.

The moment the words left his mouth, Olivia stiffened . She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and he could already see her answer written in her. She couldn’t leave, not now. The city was her battlefield, and she had a responsibility to finish what she started in the summer. To walk away would be abandoning everything she’d fought for—and Olivia Benson didn’t walk away .

“I can’t , Rafa,” she whispered, her voice firm but filled with unspoken fear. “I have to see this through. I can’t tell you everything right now, but—” Her eyes flickered with determination, even as they brimmed with a mix of anger and vulnerability. “I can’t just leave.”

Rafael nodded, his fingers still gently caressing her cheek. He didn’t need her to explain. He knew the weight of her duty, her need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. She wasn’t just fighting for Noah—she was fighting for everyone caught in the crossfire of her world. “ I know ,” he murmured, his thumb tracing light circles against her skin. “But promise me you’ll be careful. You’ve already been through too much.”

Olivia nodded, her heart swelling with the weight of everything they weren’t saying. They’d just gotten each other back. She knew he was scared for her, and part of her was scared too. But this was her fight. She had to protect the people she loved, even if it meant putting herself on the line.

“I will,” she promised softly, leaning into his touch. “But I need you to know... I’m not running from this either. Not from you , and not from us. Not anymore .”

Rafael’s green eyes gleamed, his fingers tightening around hers as he pulled her closer. “I’m not going anywhere either, Liv,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got your back. Always .”

Rafael had made her coffee and graciously let her use his shower before she slipped back into her clothes from the day before. As she hailed a cab back to her apartment, her thoughts swirled—Barba, Noah, BX9, Bronx SVU. It felt like her mind was running in a dozen directions at once.

But despite everything weighing her down, she felt lighter than she had in months. Spending the night with Rafael—wrapped in his arms, safe and warm—had settled something deep inside her. It almost made her blush to think about it. Nothing had really happened between them, but it was the most intimate moment she’d shared with anyone in a long time. Just being with him had been enough.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way—so grounded, so sure. Things had been heavy for so long. Since the pandemic, really, even before she and Barba became estranged. And then Stabler’s sudden reappearance in her life had shaken her to the core. His grief, his loss—it all became entangled with hers, pulling her down into the weight of it. She hadn’t even realized how much it was affecting her, how much she had been carrying.

Rafael had helped alleviate some of that weight. His presence, his steady support, had lifted some of the burden she hadn’t known was crushing her. It wasn’t gone entirely, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t unbearable. She had hope. And that hope gave her the strength to push through the exhaustion and the soreness still lingering in her body as she waded through Manhattan traffic, making her way back to the Bronx.

Bruno’s white whale had taken a deadly turn when a deaf teenage girl had been found assaulted and murdered. The autopsy report had been delayed, and when she was told to go home last night, she hadn’t planned to end up outside Rafael’s door. But she had, and she was grateful for it. It turned out to be exactly what she needed—a reprieve, a moment to breathe.

Now, though, it was time to return to reality. She had to head back to Bronx SVU, back to the case that had consumed her. She could only hope that the M.E. had found something—anything—that would give them the break they so desperately needed in this investigation.

McGrath and the Feds were breathing down her neck, despite their reluctance to even reopen the deaf school case in the first place. Despite Detective Bruno’s insistence that the real rapist had never stopped targeting deaf girls. His superiors had refused to listen. Well, now it was Olivia’s job to clean up the mess they had made, and she wasn’t going to stop until they got justice for all the girls who had been ignored.

“You look rested ,” Fin commented as she walked through the precinct doors. His sharp eyes didn’t miss the slight shift in her demeanor—the way her shoulders weren’t as tense, her steps lighter than they had been in weeks. He joined her as they made their way toward the bullpen.

Olivia offered him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes but carried a touch more warmth than before. “Got a little sleep,” she replied, keeping her tone casual, though her mind was already shifting gears back to the case. She could feel the familiar weight settling in again, but this time, it wasn’t as suffocating. There was a sense of purpose driving her forward now. She could solve this case and then finally focus on the real reason she’d agreed to help Bronx SVU—taking down Oscar Papa and BX9 .

Her night with Barba had given her something to look forward to, a light at the end of the tunnel that softened the overwhelming sadness she’d been carrying. For the first time in a while, she felt like there was something more than just the weight of the job. Something personal. Something worth fighting for beyond the cases and her son. 

Fin gave her a sideways glance, as if he didn’t quite believe her, but he shrugged it off. “About time,” he muttered, shuffling a folder in his hands. He wasn’t one to pry, but Olivia had been running on fumes for so long that seeing her like this—rested, almost grounded—made him wonder. Wonder what had changed between the time he sent her home and now. Whatever it was, he hoped it would last.

As soon as they reached the bullpen, Bruno had news for them.

“Lab pulled DNA from Renee Perry’s body.”

“That’s good news.” “Great,” she and Fin echoed, stepping over the vestibule into the bullpen.

“Have the lab put a rush on it,” Olivia ordered, walking closer to Bruno, who was perched on the edge of his desk.

He shook his head, frustration clear in his voice. “Well, it’ll take at least a few weeks.”

Olivia’s patience was wearing thin. She knew Bronx SVU was underfunded and understaffed, but the inefficiency was starting to grate on her. She shook her head. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

“With our killer still on the loose?” Fin chimed in from behind her. She waved both men off, her mind already moving ahead. 

Gesturing for Bruno to follow, she said, “All right, grab your coat. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Bruno asked, grabbing his coat without hesitation.

“To help motivate them,” she replied, her tone brooking no argument.

“As I already explained, our backlog is long,” the crime tech, Eddie, said, his voice steady but dispassionate. “I can’t prioritize testing.”

Olivia sucked in a shallow breath, willing herself to stay calm. She threw her hands up in a non-threatening manner, trying to keep her frustration in check. Eddie was just doing his job, after all, and maybe she could reason with him. He seemed reasonable, even if a little by-the-book.

“All right, so...” she began, perching herself at the edge of his desk to make eye contact. “Eddie, right? Look, I understand there’s a protocol, and I get it.” she didn’t wait for him to confirm. “But all we need is the DNA from Renee Perry’s autopsy to be run just a little quicker than normal.”

Eddie’s expression remained unmoved. “I’m not authorized to unilaterally make that happen.”

Olivia glanced back at Bruno, biting her tongue to hold back her growing irritation. She turned back to Eddie, her voice laced with urgency. “But you understand that we’re trying to track a serial rapist?”

“I’d like to help, but the gears of bureaucracy don’t grind any faster just because you batted your eyelashes at me.”

Olivia blinked, momentarily stunned by the casual dismissal. She had expected resistance, but not such a dismissive, almost flippant response. The frustration boiled beneath her skin, but she forced herself to smile—a tight, controlled smile, as she removed herself from his desk. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with Eddie like this, and if she stayed close any longer, she might actually punch him.

Bruno, sensing the tension, took the opportunity to step in. “Hey, Eddie. That’s a nice watch.”

Olivia’s curiosity piqued as she stepped back, crossing her arms as she observed the scene unfold.

“Oh, it’s just a Seiko,” Eddie replied, glancing at his wrist. “My wife teases me because every phone’s got a clock, but this never comes off my wrist.”

“Nonetheless, a fellow horologist.” Bruno raised his arm and casually shrugged his coat sleeve off to reveal his own watch. “You know what that is, don’t you?”

Eddie looked up from his work, his eyes lighting up as he saw the watch. His voice was almost reverent as he asked, “A Patek. Is that real?”

“I splurged a little after my settlement,” Bruno said nonchalantly, removing the watch from his wrist with a shrug. “Got this and a couple of Sea-Doos.” He held the Patek out for Eddie, who stared in awe. “It’s yours, if you rush that DNA.”

Olivia’s mouth fell open as she watched Eddie quickly scramble away with the watch in hand. She was flabbergasted, pushing herself away from the wall where she’d been silently observing the exchange.

“You can’t do that,” she said, her voice firm, her hands on her hips.

“Because it’s bribery?” Bruno asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because I’m a police captain,” she retorted, trying to keep her cool.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Bruno shot back with a grin.

She opened her mouth to argue— that wasn’t the point —but before she could respond, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She reached for it, still reeling from the audacity of what had just transpired. Barba’s contact flashed across the screen for the first time in almost a year, and her heart lurched. For a moment, the chaos of the case faded into the background. It was a text message. Despite herself, Olivia felt her lips spreading into a grin as she opened it, her pulse quickening at the unexpected timing.

“Just checking in, hope you’re doing okay. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but if you need another safe place, my door’s always open.”

Olivia’s smile softened, her thumb hovering over the screen as she re-read the message. She hadn’t expected him to reach out after last night— at least not so soon —and certainly not with the same level of care that had enveloped her just hours ago. It was a simple offer, but coming from him, it meant so much more. She went to reply when Muncy’s contact flashed across her screen.

Her smile dropped, the weight of the case crashing back down onto her shoulders. She could suddenly hear the blood pounding in her ears. 

Muncy and Velasco had been tasked with finding the kid she’d shot. 

This had to be an update. 

Her mind spiraled with possibilities. If they hadn’t found him yet, what were the chances he could survive another night without medical care? What if he was already dead? The thought sent a chill down her spine. What if the call was to tell her they had found his body?

She turned away from Bruno, taking a steadying breath as she answered the call. " Muncy ," she breathed, walking toward the exit of the crime lab, Bruno trailing behind her. Her pulse quickened, anxiety threading through her as she waited for the younger detective's response.

"Captain, we found the kid. The one you shot." she almost couldn’t believe it.

Olivia tightened her grip on the phone. "He's still alive?"

"Yeah. A few of his buddies dumped him in some basement up in Tremont," Muncy replied.

"He's septic, feverish," Duarte’s voice chimed in from the background.

She let out a breath she'd been holding ever since she pulled the trigger. Relief coursed through her, but it was short-lived. "Make sure he gets to Knickerbocker."

"EMT says your bullets in his leg. They're prepping him for surgery," Duarte added.

"Good. Let me know when he's out—I wanna talk to him."

She needed answers— answers about who had greenlit her. She suspected it was Oscar Papa but if she was going to take him down and put a stop to BX9 once and for all, needed confirmation. The kid was her only lead, and while she hated that it had come to this, she knew he was key to unraveling the gang’s network. If she could get him to talk, to help her understand the inner workings of BX9, she might have a chance at stopping them.

It wasn't just about her case anymore—it was about protecting her city , protecting her son , and stopping the violence from destroying more lives.

But beyond that, a deeper, heavier guilt gnawed at her. He was just a kid, caught up in something far bigger than him. She could only imagine the kind of life that had led him to that street, to that moment where she had been forced to make a choice. He needed help, and she was probably his only shot at a way out .

Chapter Text

She’d meant to text him back, to thank him for the offer, to tell him how much she missed him—because she did. Miss him. After months apart, it had only taken a day—hours, really—for her to start missing him all over again. She missed the way he smelled, the way he held her, the way he soothed her when her own thoughts became too much. The peace she’d felt with him had been like a drug, and she desperately needed another fix.

But there just hadn’t been time. After she got the call that the kid she shot had been found, everything moved too fast. The case swept her away like a tide, and before she knew it, the hours had blurred into days, and she hadn’t been able to catch her breath, let alone reach out.

They’d traced a partial DNA match from a genealogy website to the half-brother of the perpetrator. He’d been adopted and had no idea about his biological sibling—the rapist. They finall y closed the deaf school case and freed an innocent man, but there hadn’t been any time to breathe. 

As soon as that case was resolved, another call came in: the kid she shot was out of surgery. 

And she was back in the thick of it, throwing herself into the case that had actually brought her to the Bronx.

Olivia had barely managed a quick FaceTime with Noah, making sure he was okay with the McCanns, before diving right back into work.

Albert Diaz , also known as Fugazi , the fifteen-year-old she’d shot in the knee, had been forced into BX9. He had come to the States to find his mother, but when he did, BX9 came for him. They tried to recruit him at first, but when he refused, they raped his mother. He didn’t refuse again . When Olivia looked into his eyes, all she saw was self-hatred and fear. He hadn’t wanted any of this. None of them had. 

His story wasn’t the only one like it. Sexual assault was a common recruitment tactic for BX9. They would target young, teenage boys outside of school, and if the boys refused to join, then BX9 retaliated by attacking their mothers, sisters, aunts, any woman in their family. There was a tree in the woods, its limbs weighed down by dozens of pairs of underwear—a sick shrine to BX9’s depravity, a haunting testament to the victims they’d left in their wake. And Duarte had known about it.

Olivia had screamed when he showed it to her—a raw, bloodcurdling scream that tore through her—but it had done little to extinguish the rage boiling inside her. She’d wanted to throttle him, to lash out for all the lives that had been destroyed while he kept quiet about the tree in the name of surveillance. All those victims, all those women, and girls, violated while he stood by, collecting information.

Now, Duarte expected her to leverage Fugazi—use the assault on his mother against him to get him to talk, to give up Oscar Papa and the members who attacked his family.  And it wasn’t just Duarte pushing this; the feds, Fin, even Carisi couldn’t seem to grasp why she had so much sympathy for the kid. None of them understood how much she could relate to him—to be fifteen , feeling unwanted , being a living reminder to his mother of the worst thing that had ever happened to her . He was lost , drowning in guilt and isolation , and he felt like he had no one to turn to.

When he had looked her in the eye and said he wished she had shot him in the head instead, it had shattered something inside her. Those dark, glassy eyes haunted her. Even now, as she agreed to go back to the hospital to talk to him again, telling Muncy and Velasco to bring his mother down too, Olivia couldn’t shake the weight of it all.

How was she supposed to work him? Use and discard him, just like the gang had? It went against everything she believed in.

Olivia sat in her car outside the hospital, her head resting against the steering wheel as the weight of everything pressed down on her, tightening her chest until it felt hard to breathe. The moral line she was being asked to cross—no, forced to cross—gnawed at her. Leveraging Fugazi’s pain, his mother’s trauma, to flip him against BX9 …?

It felt wrong. 

But the pressure was relentless. 

Everyone wanted results, and this was the way they saw fit to do it. She had to play the game.

But it wasn’t her game. It never had been.

She needed a lifeline. Needed to hear a voice that wasn’t pushing her in directions she didn’t want to go.

Without thinking, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her recent texts. Barba’s message from two days ago flashed on the screen, the one she hadn’t responded to. The one that had made her smile despite everything. She hadn’t had time to text him back, but now, her thumb hovered over his name, and she didn’t hesitate. She hit the call button.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the phone rang, each second stretching longer than the last. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear his voice, needed the calm that only he could bring. When the call finally connected, her breath caught in her throat.

“Liv?” His voice was soft, but the concern was there immediately, cutting through the distance between them.

“Hey,” her voice came out more strained than she intended, and she had to swallow hard before continuing. “I, uh… I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. It’s been... crazy .”

“I figured,” he replied, his tone gentle, not a hint of judgment. “How are you holding up?”

Olivia closed her eyes for a second, the familiar warmth of his voice making her feel just a little more grounded. She wanted to say that she was fine now, it was on the tip of her tongue. She’d just needed to hear his voice, and she could do what she needed to do, but the guilt gnawed at her. “Honestly? Not great,” she admitted, her voice softening. “I … I have to do something I don’t want to do. Something that feels wrong. But everyone’s expecting it from me.” She shrugged as if he could see her.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, but she knew he was listening, weighing his words before speaking. He was methodical like that, always weighing every option, preparing for every scenario.

“Then don’t do it,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “It’s not that simple, Barba. They’re all pushing for it—Duarte, the feds, even Fin . They think it’s the only way to get this kid to turn. To take down BX9.”

“Olivia,” Barba’s voice was firmer now, but still threaded with understanding. “You’ve never been one to have your hand forced. If it feels wrong, don’t do it. Do it your way .”

His words sank in, and for the first time in days— maybe even years —something inside her unclenched. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, to be reminded of who she was and that she didn’t have to compromise her morals for the job. Ever since Stabler had reappeared in her life, she’d felt out of control , like she was at war with her own ethics, torn between justice and crossing lines she never thought she would. He had clouded her sense of morality. She’d reverted to that junior detective, his partner in their "wild wild west" days, taking on his attributes. Increasingly, she found herself resorting to violence, manipulation—anything to close a case.

But that wasn’t who she was. Not anymore.

“I’ve always done it my way,” she murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, though her heart still felt heavy.

“And look where that’s gotten you,” Barba teased lightly, but his tone was soft, comforting. “You’ve made it this far because you know how to fight, how to stand your ground. You don’t let anyone push you into a corner.”

Olivia closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. Barba always had this way of centering her, cutting through all the chaos and reminding her of her strength. She’d been so lost lately, tangled in emotions and the weight of her decisions, but with him, she didn’t have to pretend or be anyone other than herself.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to thank me, Liv.”

"I don't do anything I don't want to do, remember?" Olivia teased, her lips curling into a soft smile. There was a lightness in her voice, a fleeting moment of ease in the middle of the storm.

He chuckled on the other end of the line, the familiar warmth in his voice making her smile widen just a little more. "Touché."

“I don’t have to, thank you, but I want to,” she stressed, her voice softening as the smile faded slightly. “Not just for your reassurance today, or the other night,” she added, her chest tightening as her words grew more sincere, “but for every time you've been there. For the way you’ve been reassuring me throughout our friendship. Even when I didn’t know how much I needed it."

Her heart swelled with the unspoken gratitude between them. It wasn’t just about the present moment or his support the night she showed up on his doorstep—it was about the years of understanding, the way he had always known when to push her and when to simply stand by her side. Barba had never tried to change her, never tried to force her hand. He had always believed in her, even when she struggled to believe in herself.

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome, Olivia.” He said her name so fondly, with such warmth, that she couldn’t help the way her heart seemed to leap. The sound of her name on his lips was like a tether pulling her back to a calmer place.

“I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll let you go,” he added softly, even though she'd called him, “but please, take care of yourself.”

“I will. I promise.” she said before she heard the line go dead.

She held onto the phone just a little longer, reluctant to sever the connection. Rafael’s voice alone could steady her in ways she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Hey there,” Olivia called out as she stepped into the sterile hospital room, Duarte trailing behind her. Fugazi sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off the side, his bandaged knee a stark reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Olivia couldn’t help but wince at the sight.

Fugazi huffed the moment he saw her, rolling his eyes. “You know what your street name would be if you were in BX9?” His tone was sharp, dripping with disdain. “Aspirin... ’cause I get a headache every time you’re around.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his attitude. “Well, I’m basically a member now, considering you and your buddies jumped me in,” she shot back, her voice calm but edged with a touch of sarcasm.

She wasn’t here to coddle him, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him push her away with some cheap insults . Barba had been right —she didn’t let anyone corner her, not Duarte, not the feds, and definitely not Oscar Papa. She was determined to get through to Fugazi, and not just for the sake of the case. If he had any chance of healing , of building a life , it started here — with her . She needed him to trust her, to see that she wasn’t like everyone else who had used and discarded him.

“Talk to us, Albert,” Duarte cut in, his tone less patient than Olivia’s. “This way, we don’t have to keep coming back.”

“I already told you everything I know,” Fugazi snapped, his voice harsh, his gaze darting away from both of them. “You’re just here to use me, and throw me out, just like everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” Olivia countered, her voice soft but firm. She moved to sit on the empty bed across from him, making sure she was at his eye level. “ Look at me ,” she said, waiting until his dark eyes finally met hers. “You’re not disposable anymore .”

Fugazi’s face crumpled with pain, his defenses starting to crack. “My life is over,” he said, his voice thick with despair, his eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it nearly broke her.

“Why?” Duarte cut in, his voice gruff, almost careless. “Because a monster raped your mother?”

“Albert, your life is just starting,” Olivia quickly interjected, trying to redirect the conversation back to her. Duarte wasn’t helping, his bluntness only making things worse.

Fugazi’s hands clenched into fists, his anger bubbling over. “He was right there, laughing at me!” he yelled, his voice shaking as he pointed to the space behind him, as if the memory was too fresh, too raw.

“Sacrilege won’t be laughing for long,” Duarte added, his voice cold. “He’s going to prison.”

“And you’re going to help us put him there,” Olivia said, her voice steady but filled with urgency. She leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “You want to soldier up? This is how you do it.”

“This is your chance to be a hero,” Duarte chimed in, but Fugazi was already shaking his head.

“Yeah, a dead one,” he muttered bitterly, his eyes cast down.

“We can put you in Witness Protection,” Duarte offered, his tone matter-of-fact.

“You and your mother. Together,” Olivia added, her voice gentler, but carrying the same urgency.

Fugazi scoffed, his expression hardening again. “My mom? Are you stupid?” His voice cracked as he looked up at them, the weight of his mother’s rejection hanging heavy in the air. “I told you; she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Olivia stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her eyes softened, but her voice remained steady. “I'm not stupid, Albert, but I am a mother. And I know what that kind of love is like. It’s a lot tougher than you think.”

She thought back to the phone call she’d just had with Rafael, and the conversation they’d shared about Noah a few mornings ago, tangled together in his bed. Barba had been quick to assure her that sending Noah away wasn’t failing him—it was the opposite. She was keeping him safe because she loved him, and that was what a good mother did. And just like with Noah, Rafael had reminded her that she didn’t have to manipulate Fugazi into doing the right thing. She could tell him the truth, and approach him with honesty. Rafael was right again ; she could do this her way.

Olivia stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and Fugazi. Her eyes glistened, but her voice remained steady, unwavering. “I'm not stupid, Albert,” she began, her tone measured but full of compassion. “But I am a mother. And I know what that kind of love is like. It’s a lot tougher than you think.”

She held his gaze, her words coming from a place of raw truth, her heart in every syllable. “When you came to kill me the other night, I would’ve died for my son. But I wanted to live for him more.” Her voice softened, the weight of the moment heavy between them. “That’s what your mother wanted too . She couldn’t be around because she wanted to live for you. It wasn’t about not caring—it was about surviving , for you .”

Duarte, always the rougher edge in any situation, chimed in, his tone gruff and blunt. “Your mom got hurt once. That’s why she had to stay away.”

Olivia immediately raised a hand, signaling for Duarte to back off . This wasn’t the approach Albert needed right now. 

Her gaze never left the teenager’s face as she spoke again, her voice softer , yet more direct . “ No. What Captain Duarte is trying to say,” she continued, choosing her words carefully, “is that she wanted to be there for you when you got out , when you grew up . She wanted to see you become someone . That’s why she stayed away—it wasn’t about not loving you .”

Her words hung in the air, the raw truth settling in between them. She watched as Albert’s hardened expression faltered, just for a moment. This was what he needed: the truth, not manipulation, not a strategy. Just a mother speaking to a son.

Fugazi’s eyes darted between them, pain etched deeply into his young face. “You don’t know that ! You two are just playing me to get me to talk . She doesn’t want me.”

Olivia stepped back slightly, her gaze shifting past Fugazi toward the glass wall of the hospital room, where Muncy stood waiting with his mother. “Why don’t we let her be the judge of that?” she said quietly, her tone gentle but sure.

At her words, Fugazi turned, his breath hitching as he saw his mother stepping cautiously into the room. “ Albert? ” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

His tough exterior cracked, his eyes welling up with tears he could no longer hold back. “ Mommy ?” His voice broke as he stumbled into her embrace, collapsing into her arms. Sobs wracked his body as he clung to her, his voice choking out through his tears. “ I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. He made me do it. Maestro —he forced me. He told me to kill her.”

His mother held him tighter, whispering words of comfort as he finally let it all out— the guilt, the fear, the unbearable weight he’d been carrying alone for too long.

Olivia stood quietly as she watched Fugazi break down in his mother’s arms, the rawness of the moment tugging at something deep inside her. The tension that had been hanging over the room seemed to dissolve as the boy, barely more than a child, finally allowed himself to be vulnerable . She’d managed to get through to him, but it wasn’t because of some clever tactic or manipulation—it was because she’d been honest.

Barba’s words echoed in her mind. ‘You don’t let anyone push you into a corner. You do things your way.’

And she had. She didn’t pressure him or try to coerce a confession out of him by guilting him about what happened to his mother. She had simply told him the truth —about his mother, about herself, and about the choices that came with loving your children so deeply. Her thoughts drifted to Noah, her heart tightening with an ache she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now.

She missed him. Desperately.

The past few days had been such a whirlwind of cases and violence that she hadn’t had time to properly sit with it, but seeing Fugazi, Albert , and his mother together brought everything into sharp focus. It made her think about her own son, about the life she wanted for him. She had said it to Fugazi, and she meant it with every fiber of her being—she would die for her son. But more than that, she wanted to live for him.

That meant more than just surviving . It meant being happy , not just for herself but for Noah , too . He deserved a mother who wasn’t constantly weighed down by guilt, grief, and fear. He deserved a mother who could find joy in life. Olivia exhaled softly, her thoughts drifting back to Rafael.

She had spent so long pushing people away, believing that carrying her burdens alone was the only way to protect those she loved. But maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself a chance at happiness with him. The thought brought a small, bittersweet smile to her lips. It wasn’t about escaping the darkness in her life—it was about finding someone who she could share it with. And with Rafael , she could see that possibility .

But that would have to wait. 

There were still too many loose ends to tie up. BX9 wasn’t going down without a fight, and she had a responsibility to see this through. 

Her happiness, whatever shape it would take, would have to wait until after the job was done.

Olivia let out a slow breath, her eyes softening as she watched Fugazi cling to his mother. This was the first step toward something better for him, something safer . It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had a long road ahead of him, but at least now he had a chance. She turned her gaze away, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over her. 

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

They got him. Oscar Papa.

After leaving the hospital, Olivia and Duarte received a call from Muncy about Maria Garcia , the sister of a deceased BX9 member and a victim of their brutal recruitment tactics. Maria had changed her mind about testifying. She wanted to talk at her parents’ restaurant. It seemed like the break they needed.

But the moment they arrived, Olivia knew something was off. 

The air was thick with tension , and it didn’t take long for her instincts to kick in. Oscar Papa was there— along with his crew. He didn’t need to say much; the message was clear . He was trying to intimidate them, showing up in public with his posse like they owned the place. There were a few pointed jabs exchanged between them, but Olivia knew what this was. It wasn’t a conversation. 

It was a show of force, a reminder that Oscar still had power. 

He didn’t confess to anything, of course. 

He was too smart for that. 

But Olivia could see right through him. He was getting scared, desperate even. They were closing in, and he knew it.

After that encounter, Olivia went straight back to Albert. She needed him to give up the name of his Maestro, his teacher—the person who had ordered the hit on her. She pleaded with him, laying it all on the table. Albert was broken, lost, but he wasn’t a killer. He hadn’t wanted any of this. 

In the end, it was Velasco and his desperation to see the stars again that made him break.

He gave up the name: Benny Barros, Oscar Papa’s driver.

It didn’t take long for them to get Benny into custody, and once they did, the walls began to close in on Oscar. 

Benny started singing the moment they got him in an interrogation room. He wanted a deal, citizenship, and witness protection. 

He had proof— audio recordings of conversations between himself and Oscar. Conversations about gang business, hits, drug deals ... and the order to greenlight Olivia .

Her blood had run cold hearing her name on those tapes. Oscar Papa had made it personal, “Get some principiantes to chop her little bastard son, right in front of her.”

But Olivia wasn’t celebrating yet. 

The fight wasn’t over—not by a long shot. 

They had Oscar, but there was still so much left to unravel. They had to prep for trial, bolster what little witness testimony they had, and try to flip others. 

Oscar was already spinning the story, claiming that Benny had ordered the hit. It made sense —Benny’s cousin was one of the bangers Olivia had put away last summer, and he'd been killed in prison. It was a convenient narrative, and one that Oscar’s defense was pushing hard.

The first few days of trial had been rough. Carisi was doing his best. He’d managed to get Oscar remanded, but Maria Garcia, who had initially agreed to testify, tanked on the stand. 

She looked intimidated , as though the weight of the NYPD hung over her every word. 

Then there was Duarte—he hadn’t fared any better. His testimony made him look like a dirty cop willing to go too far for results, and the defense was tearing him apart.

Then things took an even darker turn. Benny, their key witness, had been poisoned —rat poison slipped into his food while under protection. 

He was dead. 

Their best shot at taking down Oscar Papa was gone, just like that.

With Benny’s death, Dia , Albert’s mother, refused to let her son testify. Olivia couldn’t bring herself to argue with her. She didn’t want to put Albert through more trauma, and the thought of subpoenaing him made her stomach turn . He’d already been rushed back to the hospital due to complications with his knee—the gunshot wound she’d inflicted. Olivia had spent a night at the hospital with him, trying to offer some kind of comfort to a kid who had been caught in the crossfire of a world he never wanted any part of.

After a heated argument with Carisi, where he subtly reminded her that the kid she should be most concerned about was Noah, Olivia felt utterly defeated. She hadn’t seen her son face to face in over a week, only through the small screen of her phone. The weight of it was suffocating.

 And then there was Rafael —she hadn’t spoken to him in days. 

She missed him. 

Missed his voice, his steadiness, the way he could make her feel like she wasn’t alone in all of this. She wanted him back in her life, wanted that peace she’d felt in his arms, and not just for a night.

But this case had stolen all of that from her. 

She hated Oscar Papa, hated how much he’d taken from her—her time, her peace, her son . 

She’d already threatened him in a moment of pure desperation, telling him that if they couldn’t use Benny’s tapes in court, she’d make them public. If he wasn’t convicted, every gangster would know his inner dealings—every safe house, every connection, and every hit. 

It was a verdict. A desperate one. 

But even that hadn’t made her feel any less defeated.

That’s where Duarte found her. Sitting alone at a dimly lit bar, the weight of the world on her shoulders, a drink untouched in front of her as she scrolled through pictures of Noah at the McCanns. She was done. Defeated. And she hated that feeling more than anything else.

“Never good to drink alone,” Duarte said, approaching from behind, placing his arm casually on the back of her chair.

“ Well , it beats sleeping in my house that way,” Olivia shot back, her eyes still on her phone as she tapped through a photo of Noah and his half-brother sharing a brownie.

Duarte smirked, leaning in slightly. “ Is that an invitation?”

Olivia chuckled, glancing up at him and rolling her eyes. “ You wish,” she teased, before gesturing toward her phone. “I was talking about my kid.”

“What she’s having,” Duarte said, sliding his arm off the back of her chair and leaning against the bar next to her. He still wouldn’t sit down—his hardened NYPD Captain persona never seemed to let him fully relax. Olivia noticed it, but didn’t comment.

“Oh, that’s defeat, on the rocks,” Olivia replied dryly, taking a sip of her drink. It was just tonic water with lime now—she’d switched after her one glass of wine. She wasn’t looking to get drunk. She was too old to drown her sorrows in alcohol, and besides, she needed to stay sharp. Oscar Papa could walk at any moment, and if he did, she knew he might send one of his principiantes after her. Hell , he could still send one after her, no matter what happened in court.

Duarte raised an eyebrow, but his tone stayed casual. “Actually, I’ll have a bourbon,” he told the bartender, then turned back to Olivia.

“So, Carisi is going to subpoena Fugazi,” she said, placing her drink down on the bar.

Duarte gave a half-smirk. “What, you didn’t crack him in the head with that bleeding heart of yours?”

Olivia shook her head, meeting his gaze with tired eyes. “It’s all out of blood.”

“Oscar Papa will do that to you. Guys like a bedbug,” Duarte replied, his voice darkening, a haunted look flashing in his eyes.

She studied him for a moment, finally understanding why he carried himself the way he did. “You know, I finally get it... why you are, the way you are.”

“He’s ruined hundreds of lives,” Duarte muttered, his accent thick with bitterness.

“Not to mention taking me away from my son,” Olivia added softly, her gaze dropping to her phone. A picture of Noah lit up the screen—her boy, with his face gleefully covered in brownie crumbs, eyes glowing with pure joy. Duarte leaned over to get a look, and Olivia couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight. The happiness radiating from Noah was undeniable.

“He’s never looked so happy,” she murmured, her heart swelling with both love and longing as she smiled fondly at the image.

“They look really... normal,” Duarte commented, his voice losing its usual edge. It was softer now, almost wistful.

There was that word again—normal. Olivia wished she could give Noah that. A simple, stable life. A two-parent household, a home in the suburbs with Christmas lights strung along the roof and inflatable decorations in the yard. Maybe even a dog. She wanted Noah to have a life where he didn’t have to worry about his mother being hunted by gang members or caught up in the dark, dangerous world she faced every day at work.

Maybe ... just maybe, if she and Rafael could figure things out.

If they could love each other through the pain and the baggage they both carried. 

Rafael could be that for Noah. 

Olivia knew how much Rafael had struggled with his own father, how deeply it affected him. She’d seen how hard it was for him to hold on to his faith in himself, especially after the baby Drew Householder case. But she had faith in him . She believed he could be a father figure to Noah—if he would just allow himself to try . He had always been in their lives, in one way or another. And now, he was good with Noah— better, even, now that Noah was older, more able to talk, to understand.

Maybe , if a day came when she felt like she’d done enough—when the desire to be a cop, to fight every battle, started to fade—maybe then, they could move somewhere quieter. The suburbs, maybe Woodstock, or even Queens. She could give Noah the normal life he deserved. 

She would do anything to make that happen.

But that familiar voice still whispered in the back of her mind, casting doubt over the picture-perfect dream. The same doubts she’d tried so hard to ignore for years. Telling her she was too broken , too scarred . That chaos was woven into her soul, something she carried with her everywhere like a storm cloud . 

And that was why people kept leaving. 

That’s why they walked away. Why no one ever stayed. 

She pushed them away. 

How could anyone truly love her —with all the damage she carried? Why invite someone into her life, into Noah’s life, only to watch them walk away too?

But Rafael… he’d shown her something different . Not just on the night she’d shown up at his apartment, broken and vulnerable , but throughout their entire relationship. His devotion , his care —it had been unwavering, unconditional. 

That night, though, it stood out in her mind. The way he held her, so tender and certain, when she felt like everything was falling apart. He didn’t need to say anything; she felt the truth in his embrace. I’m here. In that moment, Rafael had made her feel something she hadn’t felt in years: loved. Not just needed or tolerated, but truly loved.

She wanted to feel that again. Desperately.  

She wanted to believe that love could be steady, real —something she could hold onto without fearing it would slip away . She could almost see it — Rafael , Noah , and her , together, a family . The warmth of that vision spread through her, a glimpse of a future she had been too afraid to let herself imagine. But if she was going to try with anyone, if she dared to build that dream with anyone, it would be Rafael. 

He wouldn’t leave her. He hadn’t left her. And she’d given him plenty of reason to. 

Her heart tightened, the bittersweet ache of imagining a life that once seemed so far away… but now, with Rafael, it felt possible. Not a distant dream anymore. Not with him.

“Yeah ,” Olivia agreed softly. “They do.” Her smile was bittersweet as she glanced down at Noah’s joyful face glowing on her phone screen. The sight tugged at her heart, a reminder of everything she wanted to give him—the sense of peace and normalcy she craved for them both. But she pushed the feeling aside, turning her phone face down on the bar with a quiet sigh, ready to shift the conversation.

“ So… ” she said, letting out a small breath. “I hate to say it, but you were right. We should’ve gone after Oscar Papa right after the subway case this summer.”

Duarte raised an eyebrow, sensing the rare admission. “Does that mean you're sorry for reducing my five-year whale hunt—one of the biggest scourges this city’s ever seen—into a simple rape case?” he asked pointedly, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Olivia took another sip of her drink, savoring the citrus notes as she met his gaze squarely. “Don't push it,” she warned, though her eyes held a flicker of amusement.

Duarte smirked, raising his glass. “No. If that’s as close as I’ll get tonight, I’ll sleep a happy man.” They shared a toast, clinking their glasses before finishing their drinks in companionable silence. A few moments later, they left the bar together, the cool night air greeting them as they stepped outside.

Olivia wouldn’t say she felt better, but she felt a little more grounded . She’d been chasing Oscar Papa for what felt like an eternity, and Duarte had been doing it for five years. The road ahead was still daunting , but at least now, they were closer than ever.

“Thank you,” Olivia said as they walked side by side toward her rideshare. Her tone was genuine, and not just about him walking her out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Duarte shrugged it off. “ What, picking up the check?” he asked, playing it cool and she didn’t press the sentiment, knowing he wasn’t the type. “What can I say ? Ever since you got jumped, I’ve been racking up the overtime,” he teased, a playful glint in his eye as he opened the car door for her.

She let out a genuine laugh, pausing before getting into the car. “Are you sure we can’t drop you off somewhere?”

“No, thank you,” Duarte said, shaking his head. “I think I’m gonna walk.”

“Okay.” Olivia settled into the car, offering him a small smile. “Good night, Mike.”

“Good night, Captain ,” he replied, closing the door behind her with a nod before stepping back, watching as the car pulled away into the night.

She got the call that he’d been attacked thirty minutes later.

“Bobby Santos, Jose Cruz, Carlos Lopez, ” Carisi listed off as he placed photos in front of Oscar Papa, who sat cuffed on the other side of the table, clad in the orange jumpsuit he’d be wearing for the rest of his life. “You recognize them?” Carisi asked, his voice sharp.

Olivia stepped forward, her gaze locked on Papa. “You should ,” she added, circling around Carisi with purpose. “They’re three of the five principiantes you ordered to kill Captain Duarte, and they’re willing to testify .” Her voice was steady, though beneath the calm exterior, grief simmered . Duarte had been attacked just thirty minutes after she last saw him, outside a bodega, mere blocks from the bar they’d shared a drink at. Three BX9 members had ambushed him with machetes , leaving him bleeding out in the street. The doctors tried, but he’d lost too much blood . He’d succumbed to his injuries in surgery. 

“Testify to what?” Papa’s attorney asked, picking up one of the photos, eyeing the young bangers who had taken Duarte’s life.

“Unlike Fugazi, they say they got their orders to kill Duarte from a prison call,” Olivia continued, her eyes never leaving Papa. He made the call himself. 

“Which are all recorded,” Carisi added pointedly.

“You had to know that,” Olivia said, her voice laced with restrained anger. She couldn’t understand it. A man like Oscar Papa— calculated , methodical — should have known better. So why take the risk? Why target Duarte in such a brazen way? 

Papa leaned back slightly, his smirk unmistakable. “I’m not denying anything, Captain,” he said coolly, amusement flickering across his features. “You got me dead to rights.”

His attorney shot up from his seat. “I need to confer with my client—”

“No, you don’t,” Papa cut in, waving him off with a dismissive hand. “Sit down .”

“We’re listening,” Carisi said, leaning forward as Papa’s attorney reluctantly sat back down.

 “I just wanted to say, I know how much you respected Captain Duarte,” Papa said, his tone almost casual.

Olivia squinted, cocking her head slightly. What did that have to do with anything? “And that’s why you killed him?” she asked incredulously, unable to mask her disbelief.

Papa shrugged, throwing his hands up as if the answer was obvious. “You know the rule. ”

“Blood for blood,” Olivia repeated, her voice flat as she recited the gang code from memory.

“He wanted to take away everything I’ve built. I couldn’t allow that to happen,” Papa continued, his tone as calm as ever.

Realization hit her like a punch to the gut. “You knew you could run your organization from here,” she said, the pieces finally starting to fall into place.

“Most of my crew is in here,” Papa agreed, his smirk widening. “And like I said, you can’t kill an idea .”

Olivia took a step back, folding her arms as she considered his words. He knew exactly what he was doing when he made that prison call. He knew the consequences. But why ? If all he wanted was Duarte dead, he could’ve sent a message through someone on the outside. So why take the risk? Why orchestrate everything from behind bars, effectively sealing his fate?

“The question is... why ?” she asked, tilting her head with a shrug, genuinely curious now.

Papa leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “The truth? I’ve got a soft spot for you, Captain.” His words took her by surprise, and Olivia felt a flicker of confusion. “I see the way you look at me. Most women say they’d kill for their kid, but not many of them would go toe-to-toe with a guy like me for them.” His voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability. “ You’re a better mother than I’ve ever had. ”

Olivia blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected confession. Whatever sentiment he was trying to convey didn’t change the fact that he was a murderer. But still, there was a flicker of something—humanity, maybe—that caught her off guard.

Before she could respond, Carisi stepped in, his voice cutting through the tension. “We can talk about your childhood later. What I need to know is, is your client going to plead guilty to murder?” He looked directly at Papa’s attorney, waiting for a response.

Papa nodded, still looking at Olivia. “But not the rapes.”

Carisi glanced at Olivia, silently asking for her approval. After a moment, she gave a reluctant nod. Carisi stood, preparing to leave, but Olivia wasn’t done yet.

“Hang on,” she called, her voice firm as she gestured for him to wait. She then took the seat across from Papa herself, locking eyes with him. “I need you to assure me that my son is safe.” Her voice was steady, but her heart raced as she waited for his response. 

This was the one thing she needed to hear.

Papa held her gaze for a long moment before speaking. “He won’t be harmed. I got what I wanted. So... we’re even now.”

Even? Olivia didn’t feel like they were even at all. But as she stared into Papa’s cold, calculating eyes, she knew this was as close to a resolution as she’d ever get.

Olivia didn’t know how to feel. 

The weight of the past week and a half felt massive , like a tidal wave she’d barely managed to ride out. Her mind was spinning, torn between the relief of having finally caught Oscar Papa and the lingering grief over Duarte’s death. Everything had happened so fast— too fast —and now, sitting behind her desk, she felt utterly drained .

Ever since she'd been attacked, it felt like she’d been running on fumes, barely keeping herself together. Spending that one night at Rafael’s had been a quiet reprieve— a moment of peace before she was thrown back into the belly of the beast. 

She’d navigated the chaos of Bronx SVU, closed the deaf school case, taken down Oscar Papa, and solved over a hundred active sexual assault cases in the process. She had stopped BX9's use of sexual violence to recruit members. 

But now, standing there in the aftermath of it all, it felt like she’d lived a thousand lives in such a short span of time. And she wasn’t sure what to do next . 

Throughout the entire ordeal, there had been two constants pulling at Olivia’s heart: her son and Rafael.

Every moment she wasn’t working, her thoughts drifted to Noah. She had longed to see his face, to hold him close, to feel that reassurance that he was safe. And then there was Rafael. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him either—the promise of something more , something real between them. That night at his place had given her a glimpse of what life could be if she let herself lean into it, if she allowed herself to embrace something other than the chaos that always seemed to follow her.

Now that the case was finally over, Olivia knew what she wanted most— those two constants . Noah’s innocent laughter, the quiet steadiness of Rafael’s presence. Both of them had kept her grounded through the darkest moments, giving her strength when she felt like she had none left.

The hard part was over. It was safe for Noah to come home. She just had to find the courage to break the cycle—to reach out instead of retreating into her solitude like she always did. 

With a sigh, she pulled out her phone, her fingers hesitating over Rafael’s contact. It had been a few days since they’d last spoken, and the thought of hearing his voice again brought a wave of warmth through her exhaustion. He had offered her peace, and right now, that was all she wanted. She just hoped he still meant it—that they could move forward, together.

Taking a deep breath, she dialed his number.

It rang for a few moments, the sound filling the silence as in Olivia’s office, her heart racing with anticipation. 

And then she heard his voice— steady , familiar , and laced with warmth . “You got him ?”

She felt a rush of relief wash over her at the sound, her lips curling into a small, tired smile. “ I got him, Rafa. I finally got him.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, as if he was processing the weight of her words, then a soft chuckle. “I knew you would.”

The warmth in Rafael’s voice was like a balm to the exhaustion that clung to Olivia. She closed her eyes, letting it sink in for a moment. For the first time in days, she felt like she could finally breathe. Yet even with the relief came a lingering sadness—the ache of what she’d lost, and the exhaustion still heavy in her bones. Duarte had paid the price for Noah’s safety with his life, and she knew she could never repay that debt.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the last few days—the cases, the grief, the weariness—hanging between them like a fog. Olivia wanted to tell him everything, but she didn’t know where to begin. She knew one thing for certain, though—she wasn’t going to go backward with him. She had been through too much, learned too many hard lessons, for them all to be in vain. She was ready to be happy. She was ready to claim what she deserved, and she wasn’t going to let any doubts or fears get in the way.

"Rafael," she began, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "I know it’s been a few days, but I meant what I said. I don’t want to miss you anymore. And I hope... I hope you meant what you said about moving forward together."

There was a beat of silence, just long enough to make her stomach twist with nervousness. She wanted so badly for him to mean it, to be ready for what came next. Then his voice came through, soft but sure.

"I did, Liv. I meant it."

Of course he did. Rafael had always been deliberate, careful with his words. He didn’t say things unless he was sure of them. And yet, hearing him say it out loud settled something deep within her, something she hadn’t even realized was tangled up with fear.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, relief washing over her. "Good," she said, her voice steadying. "Because I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I want… what I deserve, especially since I was attacked." Her voice wavered, but she pressed on, determined not to let the sadness overtake her. Not this time.

"And life’s too short, Rafael. This case taught me that. Duarte taught me that." She paused for a moment, realizing she’d have to explain who Duarte was later, but right now, she needed to get these words out before her nerves took hold again. "I don’t want to waste any more time."

Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t from fear. It was the weight of everything she was admitting to herself, to him. "I deserve to be happy. I want to be happy," she said, her voice soft but firm. "And I want to be happy with you ."

As soon as she said the words, her pulse quickened, a flicker of vulnerability catching her off guard. The nervousness was there, threading through her certainty—like the fear of hoping for too much, of daring to believe she could really have this, could really have him . But underneath it all, she was sure. She wasn’t taking this leap lightly. This was what she wanted. What she was ready for.

“I’m ready, Rafael. To try. I just hope you are too.”

There it was, laid bare. The future she could almost see—the one where Rafael was there, beside her, with Noah. It felt both so close and so fragile.

There was a heartbeat of silence, a flicker of vulnerability that caught her off guard even as she spoke. She had laid it all out there, her voice soft but determined, telling him the truth she hadn’t allowed herself to admit for so long.

She could picture him on the other end of the line, quiet but thinking—processing. Rafael always thought things through, every word chosen with care, deliberate. He never rushed into anything, never said more than he needed to. It was something she had always admired about him, but in this moment, the silence made her chest tighten. His certainty had soothed her moments ago, but now, the small knot of nervousness twisted inside her.

What if this was too much? What if her readiness to move forward overwhelmed him?

She’d hurt him before, broken his heart when she cast him aside after the Wheatley case, made him believe she was choosing Elliot over him. And even though they had talked, even though she’d apologized and he had assured her he was ready to move forward, the doubt lingered. What if he only wanted to move forward as friends? After everything they had been through, it was possible that he might not want more. She would accept that. She would accept whatever role he decided to play in her life because having him in any capacity was better than losing him altogether.

But deep down, she knew they could be more. She could feel it in the spaces between their words, in the way her heart raced when she thought about him. She wanted that life with him—Noah, Rafael, her. Together. If they could both just take that chance, she knew they could make it work. But what if he didn’t want to take that leap with her?

Olivia bit her lip, her hand trembling slightly as she switched her phone to the other hand. She wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, especially not with him. For years she’d built up walls, kept her emotions in check, hiding behind that armor of strength and independence. But now, it was just her—unshielded, open, hoping he was on the same page.

“You deserve to be happy, Liv,” Rafael finally said, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “And I want that for you. I want that with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the tension loosening, unraveling just a little. His words washed over her like a balm, soothing her in ways she hadn’t expected. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, the steadiness she had always relied on.

“I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way, or…” He trailed off for a moment, his voice quiet but so full of emotion. “But God, Liv, I’ve always been ready. I’m ready for this... for us.”

Her breath hitched, and she let out a small, shaky exhale she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The weight of his words settled over her, warm and comforting, like an anchor in the middle of the storm that had been her life these past few weeks. He meant it. He had always meant it. And now, he was standing here with her, willing to take that leap.

A soft smile tugged at Olivia’s lips, almost shy, as if the weight of everything they were saying made her feel both lighter and more exposed all at once. She didn’t want to be presumptuous, didn’t want to assume what came next between them, but the longing was there, sitting quietly in her chest, waiting for her to give it a voice.

“When can I see you?” she asked, her lips twisting into that shy smile as she finally let the words slip out. There was no pretense now, no walls between them. Just the simple, unguarded truth of wanting to be near him, to feel the same warmth she had felt in his arms that night. “I know it’s been a long few days… but I’d really like to see you.”

Her voice softened, almost tentative, and she could feel her heart fluttering in her chest, waiting for his answer. She knew there were still things they needed to figure out—conversations about how they would move forward, the lingering weight of the past, the complications that came with her life. But in this moment, all she wanted was to close the distance between them. To just... be with him.

“I’d like that too,” he said, his voice warm with affection that made her heart feel lighter. “How about tonight? I could grab a pizza, come over, and we could just... relax. You, me, Noah—maybe a movie if you’re up for it.”

The thought of him there, in her space with Noah, made her chest ache with a mixture of longing and relief. It was exactly what she needed, the simple comfort of being together. “That sounds perfect,” she said softly, but then hesitated, her smile faltering just a little. “But Noah’s still at the McCanns—his half-brother’s adoptive parents. I was too tired to make the drive to Woodstock tonight, so I was going to pick him up in the morning.”

Her heart sank a little at the thought of not having her son home with her, not being able to share that night with both him and Rafael.

“Then how about I drive up and get him for you?” Rafael offered, his voice slipping into that practical, thoughtful tone she knew so well. “I could have him home by the time you get back from the precinct.”

She blinked, touched by his offer, a warmth spreading through her chest that made her want to cry. “You’d really do that?” she asked, the surprise clear in her voice.

“Of course,” he replied, like it was the easiest decision in the world. “Anything for you, Liv. You know that.”

Her smile widened, the shy curve of her lips giving way to something fuller, something real. “Thank you, Rafael,” she whispered, her heart swelling with emotion she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.

“Just text me the address and make sure the McCanns know I’m coming to pick Noah up,” he said.

“Okay,” she replied, the grin on her face impossible to hide. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to look forward to something—someone.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“See you soon,” she echoed softly, her heart full.

After her phone call with Barba, Olivia sat at her desk, trying to wade through the paperwork she’d neglected after a week of being up in the bronx. She was usually disciplined when it came to this part of the job, but today, her mind was elsewhere. It was swimming with possibilities, memories of Rafael's voice still echoing in her ears, and the excitement of what lay ahead. She found herself counting down the minutes until she could clock out and go home—to her boys.

Her boys. The thought brought a quiet smile to her lips, but the nervous energy buzzing in her chest wouldn’t let her focus. Eventually, she gave up on the paperwork altogether, opting instead to sift through the photos of Noah scattered across her desk. Pictures of her curly-haired boy, his infectious grin lighting up every frame. She’d missed him so much—it was the longest they’d been apart, and the ache of it sat heavy in her chest.

That’s how Carisi found her, eyes glassy as she absently stroked one of the photos, lost in the weight of missing her son.

"Liv," Carisi’s voice was gentle as he stepped into her office. He held a file in his hand, but the look in his eyes said more than any paperwork ever could. "We got him. 25 years for the attempted murder on you. 25 to life for Duarte. He’ll be eligible for parole in, what, 2096?"

Olivia shifted her gaze from the photo, her eyes meeting Carisi’s with a mixture of relief and sadness. It was over, at least the legal part was. But justice never fully restored what had been lost. She let out a soft exhale, feeling the weight of it all settle in her chest.

"And the five principiantes?" she asked, her voice steady but carrying the burden of everything they’d endured.

"We’re gonna go after them all," Carisi assured her, his tone firm. He knew it wouldn’t fix everything, but it was something. Justice, in some form.

A beat of silence followed, the room thick with the tension of the past few weeks. Then Carisi’s gaze shifted to the photos on her desk. "Noah headed home?" he asked, his voice softening.

"He is," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Barba’s driving him down." She glanced away, pushing back from her desk and beginning to gather her things. She was the Captain—she could clock out a little early. "And I’m going to meet them at home. I didn’t want to drive after the day we’ve had," she added, feeling the need to explain herself.

She hadn’t mentioned to anyone that she and Barba had reconciled. There hadn’t been time. After leaving his apartment, she’d hit the ground running, thrown right back into the deaf school case.

"Barba, huh?" Carisi asked, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Olivia felt a flush creep up her neck, instinctively raising a folder to shield her face, still avoiding his gaze. She didn’t know why she felt embarrassed—it wasn’t like she was some schoolgirl with a crush. "We talked. We’re talking," she admitted with a sheepish smile, finally meeting Carisi’s eyes. "Besides, there’s nobody I trust more to bring my son home in one piece than Barba."

"Well, in that case, tell him I said hi," Carisi said with a soft chuckle as he turned to leave.

"I will," Olivia replied, her smile returning, more genuine this time.

"And I’ll give Amanda your love," Carisi added, tossing a grin over his shoulder.

"Please do," she called after him, her heart feeling a little lighter as she watched him walk away.

Olivia leaned against the closed door of Noah’s room, a small smile tugging at her lips as she glanced back toward Rafael. "He's out, like a light," she whispered softly, her voice warm with the quiet pride and tenderness of a mother. It had been a long day—one that felt like it stretched on forever—but now, with Noah safely tucked into bed, a rare sense of calm filled her home.

Rafael sat on the couch, his eyes following her as she approached. A soft, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. They had spent the evening in quiet companionship, side by side, sharing slices of pizza, watching a movie while Noah nestled between them. But beneath the surface, there had been something more—a quiet, unspoken tension. Electric. All night, they’d exchanged stolen glances, soft smiles, and fleeting touches. When their hands brushed against each other while reaching for the same slice of pizza, or when their knees just barely touched—it was subtle but charged.

It felt different . Different from the countless nights Rafael had spent in her apartment as a colleague, a confidante. But they’d never really been just friends, had they? There had always been something more—a deeper connection, an undercurrent that had lingered between them for years, always just beneath the surface.

Now, with Noah asleep and the house quiet, the air between them seemed to shift. The tension, once unspoken, hung in the space between them, undeniable. Olivia moved slowly toward Rafael, her expression soft, but there was a flicker of shyness in her eyes—a quiet vulnerability she rarely allowed others to see. Yet Rafael had always had a way of drawing it out, of making her feel safe enough to let her guard down.

As she reached him, her heart began to race, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.

“He’s had a hard week,” Rafael murmured, his voice low as Olivia settled beside him on the couch.

“Yeah,” she agreed, the word heavy with exhaustion.

“So did you,” Rafael added, his eyes searching hers, as if he could see the weariness she hadn’t spoken aloud. His hand brushed against her arm in that familiar way, soft, grounding. But it was the way he looked at her—like he could see everything she’d been trying to hide—that made her chest tighten.

She tried to smile, the gratitude rising up in her. “Thank you, Rafael. Thank you for picking him up.” But it wasn’t just about driving to Woodstock. He had been there throughout this entire nightmare—steady, patient, checking in without crowding her, giving her the space she needed even when she hadn’t asked for it. He had been her quiet strength, and it meant more than she could express.

“You know I’d do anything for you... for both of you,” Rafael replied, his voice gentle, full of warmth. His hand lingered on her arm, the touch light but meaningful, like a promise he didn’t need to say aloud.

Olivia’s breath hitched at his words. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. So much had been left unsaid between them, so many feelings held back for far too long. She had always been careful with her heart, always guarded, but tonight... tonight, she felt like she could let some of that go. She leaned in slightly, her heart swelling as her eyes softened, finding comfort in just being close to him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Rafael’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining as his thumb gently brushed over her knuckles. “There’s no place I’d rather be,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight she hadn’t realized she needed to hear.

The tension that had been coiling inside her began to ease. She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him, the steadiness. For the first time in days, maybe even weeks, the storm that had been raging inside her seemed to quiet down, just a little. But the air between them felt different now—charged. There was something unspoken hanging there, something they had both been skirting around all night. The fleeting touches, the stolen glances—it had all led to this.

Olivia shifted closer, her heart picking up speed as her lips hovered just inches from his. She wanted to close the gap, to finally break the silence between them in the most intimate way. But before she could, Rafael’s hand came up gently, cupping her cheek. His touch was tender, but his eyes, though warm, held a seriousness that made her pause. He didn’t want her to kiss him.

“Liv,” he murmured, his voice steady, but filled with emotion. “I want this... I want us.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. “But if we’re going to do this, I want to do it right.”

Olivia blinked, pulling back slightly, confusion flickering across her face. She’d told him she didn’t want to waste any more time—so why was he stopping her? She could feel that urgency from the night she showed up at his apartment rising again, that desperate need for something solid, something real.

“You’ve had a tough week,” Rafael continued, his voice soft but resolute. “Hell, a tough few months. If I’m being honest, it’s been a tough few years.” He gave a small, sad smile. “I don’t want this to be a reaction to all of that. You deserve more than that. We deserve more than that.”

Her heart ached at his words. He wasn’t just stopping her for the sake of it—he was making sure that whatever they had wasn’t born out of exhaustion or desperation. He was making sure it was something real. He wanted to give them a fighting chance at something that could last.

“I’m not saying I don’t want this,” Rafael added, his voice softer now, but no less sincere. “Because God knows I do.” His eyes locked with hers, the emotion behind them clear. “But the first time I kiss you, I want it to be after a beautiful night, not weighed down by everything else. You deserve something special.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled, understanding him completely. He was right. He was always right.

“You’re right,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m just...”

“Tired,” he finished for her, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, without a trace of judgment in his voice. “You’ve been carrying too much for too long.”

She nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. He was right—again. And then, with a hesitant smile, she looked up at him, her voice soft and almost shy. “Will you at least stay the night?”

His eyes softened even more, and she could see that he understood the weight of her request. “Of course, Liv,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing her hand in a soothing rhythm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A wave of relief washed over her, a soft smile blooming on her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered, resting her head back on his shoulder, letting herself relax fully for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I’ll be right here,” Rafael promised, his voice steady and sure.

They drifted into a comfortable silence, the warmth of their closeness wrapping around them like a soft, protective cocoon. But Olivia wasn’t ready to leave it there, not tonight. Lifting her head slightly, she caught his gaze, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “So, when exactly are we going to have this ‘ beautiful special night ’?” she asked, her tone playful but sincere. She wasn’t ashamed of her impatience—she had spent far too long denying herself happiness, and she wasn’t going to let that happen anymore.

Rafael chuckled, a deep, warm sound that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. It was the laugh she had missed so much. “Are you that eager to kiss me?” he asked, a smugness creeping into his voice, reminiscent of his courtroom victories.

She shrugged, unapologetic. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “Maybe,” she said with a playful tilt of her head, fully aware of the ego boost she was giving him, but not caring.

He let the question hang between them for a few seconds, savoring the moment. Then, with quiet certainty, he answered, “Soon,” bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a quick, tender kiss across her knuckles. His free hand moved gently to trace the fading purple mark just below her eye, his touch delicate, as if to remind her that she deserved time to rest, to heal. 

“Maybe after you’ve taken some time off,” he said softly, “spent some one-on-one time with Noah... and after we’ve talked.” His voice was understanding, filled with the weight of everything they hadn’t said. “I know there are things you haven’t told me—about this case, about what’s been going on since we’ve been apart. About Stabler —” He faltered slightly at the mention of her old partner but pressed on. “But you don’t have to get into everything tonight. The hard part is over, Liv. We’ve got nothing but time.”

Olivia’s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from fear or uncertainty. It was the overwhelming sense of being seen . She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words until now. They had time. She wasn’t alone in this anymore, and they could move forward at their own pace, together .

A smile tugged at her lips, a hint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “Counteroffer, counselor—could we make some of that one-on-one time with Noah, a little two-on-one? Have our favorite attorney join us?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

“So what if I am?” she shot back, her grin widening. “You don’t like having your ego stroked?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Captain,” he said, leaning back slightly, still holding her hand. “But I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice softening as the teasing gave way to something more genuine.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his smile widening, that familiar warmth in his eyes grounding her in a way that felt both new and reassuring.

Her heart warmed at the thought of the three of them together—her, Noah, and Rafael. It wasn’t some distant, unattainable dream anymore. It felt real, like something she could have, something within reach. She’d spent so long believing normal wasn’t for her—that she was too broken, too scarred to have a simple, happy life. But here she was, daring to believe in that future. A future where Rafael wasn’t just someone she missed, but someone who could share in the little moments. A Saturday morning with Noah. A quiet dinner at home.

For the first time, normal didn’t seem so impossible. It seemed like something she could have. And she was ready to reach for it.

“Then it’s a date,” she murmured, the quiet certainty in her voice showing just how much she meant it.