"OBJECTION"

The first gasps break through the peace like warning bells. The screams do not follow immediately, instead all goes quiet as a dark red shadow overtakes rooftops and then passes above roadways. The creature’s spiny tail brushes against chimneys as it passes by. Only when the heat it produces can be felt in the air of the streets and the deep grumble in its chest vibrates stone structures do the screams tear through throats and into ears.

"Dragon!" Shrieking voices overlap in warning as the small folk run for cover. They were quite used to the dragons of the ruling house, but this one was unknown and new. After yesterday’s display, fear still lingered. The dark colored dragon moves higher into the air. The shadow moving up enough for the unease to slowly fade, it doesn’t last long. The next dragon, just as new and unrecognizable, comes right behind the first, nose diving beneath it and towards the city.

"Another!" A high pitched scream alerts the rest of the small folk once again. Bodies drop to the ground as the fear of being crushed by the second dragon takes over. Thick midnight blue legs hang limply, long black clawed feet hit the top of a building, knocking over red shingles that shatter upon impact with the ground. The sound it releases is too close to a laugh to bring any comfort, it comes from deep in its spiky chest and chuffs within the dark blue neck. And then, it rises into the sky, following after the other until they fly side by side as they move towards Rhaenys’ High Hill.

Vaerax’s shadow announces him before anything. The shining sun is hidden from more than half of the city as the massive black dragon flies overhead. The Cannibal does not need theatrics or noises to spook the citizens of King’s Landing. The warm air turns into a dry heat as the large spiny body flies above the city effortlessly. The people of King’s Landing watch as the dragons fly to the dragon pits in a ‘V’ formation.

The three of them fly around the high hill twice, before they begin to make their descent down. Vaerax lands on the ground first, hefty legs thud down with a force that shakes the ground around them. The notorious beast stretches its neck before shaking it side to side as it settles. Baenys lands next, perching on one of the edges of the dragon pit. Her obsidian claws scarp against the stone of the large structure as she finds comfortable stability. Daegon keeps flying in the sky, doing circles around the building.

From high above, perched on top of the infamous dragon, Valaena spots Rhaenys and her children. She affectionately hits Vaerax’s thick coal color skin twice, hard enough for it to be felt. The dragon slowly lowers itself until its belly and chest brush against the dusty ground below them. One of its scarred sides drops and a tattered wing folds back. The Princess upon Vaerax’s back crawls across the expanse of the wide back she had been in the middle of. Valaena sits on her bottom before pushing herself to slide down the ramp made of warm scales and folded wing.

Her black boot covered feet hit the ground with a soft thud. The coal colored leather riding coat she wears sweeps against the ground she stands on. The buttons are done all the way from the high neck to the waist, where the coat splits in the front. The U-shaped cutout shows off the matching trousers she wears, fitted and tucked into her boots, which stop just below the knee. The shoulders of the coat are exaggerated, long and pointed like wings that look like scales closer up. The embroidery trick goes along the top of her chest, meeting in the middle.

Her silver-gold hair is braided all the way around and the rest of the length of the braid is pinned down along the width of the nape of her hair. Her big amethyst eyes shine brightly as she turns to her mount. Along the back of her coat are more buttons that look identical to the spikes all over Vaerax. Her glove covered hands lovingly rub along the Cannibal’s side. She can feel the vibrations of satisfaction beneath her hands as she moves closer to the massive dragon head.

Vaerax was huge, nearly as big as Vhagar, who was close to outgrowing the Black Dread. The Cannibal’s head was bigger than a carriage, jaws wide enough to snap dragons in half. The scaly skin around the dragon’s maw was greatly scarred, the coal scales were stripped away, revealing the pink of gums and the beginning of teeth. Speaking of teeth, large jagged, uneven, sharply pointed teeth spouted out. The top of the Cannibal’s head was covered in multiple small spikes along the sides of the head. Two large horns curled from the middle of the creature’s head and on the outside of the head two more smaller ones curled outward. The smallest of the horns stood up straight, coming from right above his eyes. On the chin were two long and thick spines. Around the bottom of Vaerax’s head and around the neck were shorter spines that warned people from getting close, but not her.

The dragon who had eaten hatchlings and terrorized the people of Dragonstone preens under the attention of its rider. The smile Valaena wore on her naturally curled lips was pure and authentic as she gave Vaerax affection mostly she withheld from everyone else. The sound of feet shuffling closer makes both dragon and rider look over. Rhaenys has stepped closer, but hasn’t walked up to them, knowing better than to approach the Cannibal without an invitation.

"The keepers are still dealing with Syrax, the spoiled thing, they are just now starting to prepare Meleys and Seasmoke to be brought out. It should not be much longer." The elder cousin explains after the younger one turns towards her and comes a little closer. Valaena’s soft angled, medium, blonde brows arch deeper than normal as she moves to look towards the pit. She could just make out the distinctive sound of dragons growling and chirping from deeper within the pits. Slowly her head nods as she relaxes her brows and turns back to Rhaenys.

“Very well.” She shrugs with a smile. Her eyes squint against the sunlight when she looks up at Baenys, who looks more than comfortable. Daegon still flies in the sky, more than happy to do tricks and flips. Rhaenys turns, looking where her little cousin does.

“They are gorgeous.” She compliments, making Valaena smile proudly. Before she can reply a screech very familiar to both Princesses cuts through the air. They both watch as Baenys and Daegon’s attention snaps below.

Daemon walks out, dressed in a bright red riding coat and black gloves. He’s walking Caraxes out of the caves, all on his own, no doubt because of his impatience. His straight hair was pulled together, the white strands hanging between his shoulder blades in a tail. The smirk on his face is visible from where she and Rhaenys stand, the latter is less than entertained by her little cousin and he hasn’t even gotten started.

"Sȳz morrow ry. Mandia, ao jurnegon gevie hae va moriot." He projects his voice louder, his usual leveled cocky tone has been swapped for a preppy voice full of enough excitement to share with the few kids inside the Keep. His upturned eyes briefly glance over at Laena and Laenor, when they move to look at Rhaenys, they sparkle with their normal mischievous glint. His thin lips spread into a wide smile as he watches his cousin roll her eyes at him before walking back over to her children. Lilac eyes find her next, not daring to move away from her, even as he and his mount come to a halt. The compliment slides off his silver tongue like water over a wet stone. (Good morrow all. Sister, you look beautiful as always.)

"Lēkia." Valaena offers, her chin lifting higher as she meets his gaze. The smirk on his face grows as she begins walking closer. Vaerax’s green eyes roll off of his rider and her brother, and onto the red dragon, who’s own yellow eyes were completely focused on Daemon. (Brother.)

He expects for her to fall into his arms, to preen under his affection, and give him the attention he so eagerly seeks. Surprise pinches at his features when she walks right past him. Rhaenys, who had been watching from the sidelines, snickers at the pout on Daemon’s lips. Lilac eyes turn, scanning the open area around until he finds his sister again. Valaena walks with an extended arm, the palm of her hand opened as an offering.

"Sȳrī rytsas konīr issa raqiros." His head perks up when she speaks to him. His body worms closer without hesitation. He pushes his snout into her palm, nudging it gently before clicking with happiness. (Well hello there my friend.)

"Hmm skorkydoso emagon ao issare? Emagon issa lēkia issare sȳz naejot ao?" Valaena smiles brightly as she engages with Caraxes after many years. Her smile only deepens when Caraxes’ roar clicks low in the back of his long throat. His scaly skin is rough and warm against her hand, which he nuzzles into with as gently as he can, just as he’d been told many many years ago. She nods at his noises like they were having a conversation in the same language. Her hand moves against the underside of the red dragon’s head. She hears the boots crunching the dirt, smells the familiar scent of leather and sage, and if that didn’t give him away, the way his dragon’s eyes followed his every move did. (How have you been? Has my brother been good to you?)

"Emagon ao issare sȳz naejot zirȳla?" She asks the Blood Wyrm in regard to his Prince. A deep and low grumble comes from deep within Caraxes’ chest, like keeping up with Daemon has been more work than war. His sister is less than surprised by the notion of her brother being too much even for a magical fire breathing dragon. (Have you been good to him?)

"Va moriot." Said man’s smooth voice reaches her ears as he crowds the space beside her. His right hand reaches around Valaena’s body, unnecessarily so, to pat his mount’s scaly snout. Slowly, the Princess turns toward the tall man beside her. The top of her head only reaches the top of his shoulder, meaning she has to look up to meet his gaze. Unsurprisingly, Daemon stands with curved lips that say everything his voice hasn’t. (Always)

There was a loud rumble followed by an unexpected crash above them. All heads snap upward. Rhaenys protectively wraps her arms around her children, slightly pushing them behind her. Daemon takes half a step forward, the cage his arm had made around Valaena becomes a shield as his head moves to assess the situation. She looks over as well, amethyst eyes landing on the dragonpit. She hears Baenys growl before she sees her, no longer lounging on the corner she’d perched upon and instead she’s sat at attention. The source that holds the dragoness's attention is her brother, who clumsily landed on part of the pit's ledge. Bricks are knocked out of place by the force of heavy and powerful hind legs. The couple bricks slide down the side of the structure before shattering upon impact with the ground.

All eyes are on Daegon. They stare at the royal blue dragon, whose piercing pink eyes glare directly at Caraxes. The same deep sound Vaerax displayed yesterday is now coming from the Blue Fury, but lower and lighter than the Cannibal’s. The Blood Wyrm begins to growl, his long lean legs drag him forward. Sharp claws dig into the dirt and gravel, pushing and pulling it around on the ground around his front legs.

A sharp and drawn out whistle strikes through the air and is soon followed by a high pitched screech that comes from higher up. Baenys flares her wings out and her hind legs push her up as she roars in her brother’s direction. The smaller of the two slowly cowers away, to his credit Daegon tried to stand his ground, but it was clear who the alpha was between the two.

Four pairs of various shades of purple turn away from the twin dragons to the one who had somehow managed to tame them without ever taking a seat upon their backs. The Princess watches Baenys snap at Daegon, who snaps back with less conviction than his sister. Soon both dragons relax atop the dragonpit, perched against the ledge as they wait for Valaena’s next move. Her hand moves to rest on the side of Caraxes’s head. She gently strokes his bright colored scales and hums quietly as she lulls him back to contentment.

It is the sound of another dragon coming from behind that catches everyone’s attention next. Large and yellow like the sun at its brightest peak, Syrax walks out with leisure steps like time was hers alone. The ground beneath them shakes and trembles as Vaerax plops down onto the ground. Valaena huffs a laugh over her shoulder, eyes meeting the green ones of her partner. With a heavy huff of smoke that puffs into the air, the Cannibal looks at Syrax with dragonlike annoyance.

"Sorry everyone, Syrax was not happy with her breakfast. Meleys and Seasmoke are being brought up now." Princess Rhaenyra announces her entrance, pulling the attention to herself. The young girl is dressed in a long black leather riding coat with dark golden embroidery along the outer lines of the coat. Etched into the dark leather were dragon scales. On her hands were gloves that matched the dark yellow of Syrax’s scales and the embroidery on Rhaenyra’s coat.

Laenor lets out an exasperated sigh of relief as he approaches the mouth of the pit to wait for his mount. His mother and sister follow him with more patient steps. Daemon and his true other half reluctantly watch Valaena move away from them, her attention on the other Targaryen and their dragon. With slow and steady steps, she begins to walk towards Syrax, who stares her down while taking a cautious step back.

"Rytsas Syrax." Valaena calls out softly. Her hands rest firmly by her sides as she takes attentive steps toward her niece and the dragon slowly. Syrax’s skittishness does not not disappear, but it does give way to curiosity. It was not everyday that a random stranger, who looks so much like Rhaenyra, approaches her like it’s nothing. (Hello Syrax)

"Take care aunt, she is not exactly people friendly." Rhaenyra warns as she steps forward, trying to be a buffer between her dragon and aunt. It doesn’t deter Valaena at all, instead she raises a hand into the air between her and the dragon. Syrax looks at her with uncertainty and when the approaching Targaryen’s hand raises the yellow creature takes another weary step backwards.

Valaena lightly wiggles her fingers in the dragon's direction. Her steps are measured with confidence and respect. Loud enough for the dragoness feet away to hear, the Princess begins to hum. Syrax’s head tilts with interest as the melody seeps into her bones and stirs something ancient in her very being.

"Bona iksos paktot issa raqiros, māzigon, gīda hāedar, gīda." The smile that pulls at Valaena’s lips is one of prideful satisfaction. This time the hesitant step the she-dragon takes is forward. Rhaenyra looks up at her mount with a confused expression before looking over at her aunt. Once close enough, Valaena holds her hand out flat, allowing Syrax to make the next move. Slowly, the yellow Dragoness presses her elongated snout into the outstretched hand. (That is right my friend, come, calm girl, calm.)

Rhaenys stands to the side with an arm wrapped around her daughter’s back as they watch Syrax purr at the contact. Awe lights up Laena’s face just as it had when she’d done this with Seasmoke and Meleys after arriving on Driftmark. Valaena smiles at the dragon, the melody falling to a halt as grey eyes meet amethyst. Daemon watches unsurprised, after all she was the same girl who’d sit and read to The Black Dread and sang with Vhagar with no riders around. The woman who now had three dragons under her own metaphoric wing had once been a young lady who personally fed Vermithor and kept Silverwing company during long days.

"Nyke daor umbagon naejot ūndegon ao isse se jēdar." Valaena tells Syrax before turning to Rhaenyra, who looks impressed despite the sharp way her features are set as she stares at her aunt - who’d charmed many upon her return, even the dragons so it seemed. Without hurry, one Princess looks to the other with a smile full of a soft joy. With a wink and a nod, the elder signifies she isn’t just speaking to the dragon alone, but her rider as well. (I cannot wait to see you in the sky.)

Rhaenyra blushes under the attention. Her lips work into a smile small enough to be noticed by only those close enough. She brings a hand up to stroke Syrax’s neck as she turns away from the attention. Behind them, Daemon begins to move, his feet carrying him towards them. The sound of his riding boots scraping against the gravel makes both Princesses turn to look over the elder’s shoulder.

The smile that grows upon Rhaenyra’s lips this time is less guarded and wide enough that her excitement can be seen by all. Valaena’s eyes briefly flicker to her brother, but quickly move away when Meleys’ low roars announce her exit. The smile on her face grows larger as her eyes land on the Red Queen in all her glory. Behind the red she-dragon, the youthful Seasmoke could be heard grumbling in a way that portrayed his excitement and restlessness. The Velaryon children and their mother move towards the creatures they have been waiting on since they arrived after breaking their fast together.

"Meleys, issa dāria." Valaena says as she moves towards Meleys with more giddiness than she had Caraxes and Syrax. The difference between the sureness of her ability with the other dragons and the innocence of her admiration for the Queen - both Queens - was glaringly apparent. Meleys purrs in response, her head bowing as she eyes the familiar figure approaching. Rhaenys catches the exchange from the sides of her eyes as she checks her mount over, making sure the brown and copper leather saddle was secure. When her young cousin catches her gaze, she teasingly curtseys making her older cousin playing roll her eyes with a quiet chuckle. (My queen)

Once close enough, Meleys allows Valaena to lean her small head against her much larger one. Both of their bright eyes close and the two relax into the contact with sighs. Greenish-yellow eyes open at the sound of rambunctious growls. Her neck turns so she may catch sight of the unruly younger dragon behind her.

"Rytsas Seasmoke!" Valaena calls, raising her hand to wave with as much excitement as the pale grayish-silver dragon. Seasmoke reacts to her attention with a long deep chirp as he pushes up on his hind legs before thudding back down. (Hello Seasmoke.)

"Now, are we all ready? May we finally take to the skies?" Laenor asks, the tone of his voice a pleading one as he looks around at the present members of his family. Valaena laughs, head thrown back and arms wrapped around her waist, completely amused by the young boy. Laena playfully rolls her eyes at her brother, who has already begun to climb atop the blue and silver saddle perched upon Seasmoke’s back.

"Who will you fly with?" Valaena asks Laena as the two of them walk over to Rhaenys, who stands by waiting to mount Meleys. Somewhere behind them Rhaenyra has climbed upon Syrax’s gold saddle and Daemon has walked back to Caraxes, who is just as eager to fly high above the ground. Laena looks between her mother and her cousin. Since the Princess’s return, other than the day of arriving in the capital, the lady had been riding along with her cousin.

"Mother and Meleys." Today though, she wished to be alongside her mother. Valaena smiles, tipping her head in understanding. Turning, the Princess makes her way to her own saddleless mount. On her way to Vaerax, she passes Daemon, who leans against Caraxes as he watches his sister walk by.

Vaerax’s chest rumbles when she approaches. A large spiky shoulder lowers, allowing her the ability to climb onto her mount. Aged legs move with learned patience as the Cannibal pushes off the ground slowly. The creature shakes its body, large tattered wings stretch as they prepare for takeoff. Everyone seems to agree that letting Vaerax go first is for the best. Upon his back Valaena is nearly impossible to see, completely blinding in, except for the small dot of white on the creature’s gigantic body.

Strong scarred legs push against the ground. The large, lean body moves upwards, slithering through the air as it pushes the large wings up before pulling them down. The area of the pit darkens as the dragon’s shadow rises into the sky. From the top of the dome, Baenys and Daegon rise, following Vaerax as they fly over the city in a straight line formation.

Seasmoke takes off next, a flurry of youth and growing power. Caraxes’ lean legs stomp against the ground as he worms his way into the air, long wings flapping multiple times in a row for momentum. Once Rhaenys is sure she and her daughter are secured, she gives Meleys the go ahead. Syrax, taking her time as per usual, graces the sky last.

From the ground below, the smallfolk watch as all seven dragons, the most they’d seen at one time, fly overhead. The sight fills the bodies in the streets with awe as shadows of all different sizes pass above. Daegon and Baenys have pulled ahead of Vaerax, who flies a few feet below them. Syrax has maneuvered through the others until she’s beside Caraxes. Seasmoke, still full of joyful energy, is doing spins and loops around Meleys, who grumbles when the young dragon flies too close.

The sound of wings flapping echoes through the walls of the city as the creatures of Old Valyria enter the edge of the King’s Woods. Daegon lets out a loud roar before he turns in a half circle and shoots up higher. The leaves on the trees beneath him shake due to the force of wind his wings emit. Baenys releases a high pitched roar that sounds like a whistle, before folding her wings in. The Targaryens behind her watch as the red she-dragon is dragged back by the wind. Caraxes turns his neck and chirps loudly as he looks through the clouds for her. His dragonfly features shift into the closest thing he can muster to concerned confusion.

Valaena laughs from atop of Vaerax, who gives a sharp dragonly smile as they both watch the rest of the riders look around for the other two dragons. Baenys and Daegon have disappeared from sight, no shadows, no outlines, not even a grumble amongst the clouds. With a heavy pat, Vaerax grumbles lowly for a second before stopping, only to do it again a second later. When they all look ahead again, they notice the Cannibal and their rider are nowhere to be found as well.

Rhaenys has a feeling where this is going, and while she knows they have nothing to worry about, she still leans over to tighten the strap around her and Laena. Suddenly the sound of a shrill roar catches their attention. The sky above them turns a beautiful bright pink color with red along the edges. Daegon’s dazzling flames dance above them before his wing spreads out, casting a purple tint over the others as he keeps pace from above.

Out of nowhere, Baenys shoots upwards through the smoke. Her shrill calls roar through the air as she levels ahead of them a few feet down. Her large maw spreads apart and bright red flames burn through the sky. A deep low rumble bellows through the air around them. Rhaenyra looks up expecting to see storm clouds rolling in, but the sky is as clear as it was when she woke that morning. The dragons, minus Baenys and Daegon, begin to grow uneasy as the sound grows closer.

Vaerax suddenly dives down, nose first right in front of them. The sound of wings opening and wind settling over them echoes in the sky like a clap of thunder. The Cannibal stays in the position they dove into for a few yards before they begin to flap their wings, whipping the wind around as they do. Upon the dragon’s back, all Valaena can be seen as a speck of white. Her hands grip tightly onto the spikes that serve as handles and reins. Her grip tightens as her mount does a spiral upwards. Green flames bleed into the sky causing the rider’s family to gape in awe.

In the bright colored flames and dark smoke, Baenys and Daegon glide through. The twin dragons zigzag across each other and do looping swirls together. Seeing the fun in front of him, Seasmoke chortles deeply as he nears the two youngest dragons. Laenor laughs loudly from the top of his mount as the silver and grey dragon rolls and flips through the air. Daegon matches the energy, spinning upside down before looping through one of Seasmoke’s flips.

The two energetic he-dragons soar higher and higher as they fly together.

Baenys, pulls back for a calmer ride. It doesn’t take Meleys long to catch up. The red she-dragons fly side by side, every once in a while one will pull in front of the other before they are then passed by. The back and forth continues, entertaining the mother daughter duo. Behind them, Valaena watches upon Vaerax with a bright smile on her face as she does. Beneath her, the Cannibal vibrates as a growl slips from their throat. Her hand rubs soothing circles against the scales next to her. She feels the two of them drift to the left and when she looks over she sees why.

Caraxes is doing full flips in the air above them. When the Blood Wyrm levels out next to them, they look over. Secured in the saddle, Daemon sits with his arms spread wide and a confident smirk on his face. Valaena rolls her eyes at her brother, who is far from done with his little show. Caraxes veers closer, causing Vaerax to grumble. Green eyes slide over to the dragon, who flies over the massive creature, whose eyes follow. Valaena’s head tilts towards the sky, watching as her brother and his mount dive underneath her and hers. Without missing a beat, Vaerax dives after Caraxes, who is flying towards Dragonstone.

"Jikagon Vaerax, hae adere hae ao kostagon." With a smirk Valaena leans forward, her grip tightens, and she shouts in order to encourage her other half. The two of them disappear into the clouds, once more disappearing from sight as the thick white blobs in the sky cloak them. Wind whips around them with each flap of the dark colored wings. (Go Vaerax, as fast as you can.)

When Vaerax and Valaena break through the clouds they can see Baenys, who has left everyone else behind. Rider looks back, eyes squinting as she tries to spot the familiar blue shape. When she sees Daegon, he is flying near the water. His wings are spread out completely and his feet cut through the water. She giggles loudly as she watches.

Vaerax lets out an expected roar, loud enough to echo across the sky when Dragonstone comes into sight. The sound is raspy and scratchy, but deafening loud, so much so that they can feel it in their bones. The Cannibal veers to the left before disappearing into the clouds once more. Valaena leans over as much as she can without falling. Her neck stretches as far as it can so she can see over Vaerax’s horns. Her amethyst eyes spot Dragonstone and a warmth she hasn’t felt in years fills her whole being.

When Vaerax lands, they do so with a heavy thud, shaking the island beneath them and altering all to their presence. Baenys lands more gracefully than the older dragon beside her. The shrill click of her own roar splits through the air. From behind them, Daegon has flown up the side of the cliffs surrounding Dragonstone. His roar, light with youth, spills across the mass of land in a less intimidating way than his elders had. Clumsily, the younger dragon steps onto the ground, his legs shakily run until he stumbles to a stop. Valaena watches as she stands between Vaerax and Baenys, who look less than impressed as they look at the youngest with low eyes. Vaerax’s head is tilted to the side, mouth parted just barely. Baenys stares at him straight, maw snapped shut so completely that the longer teeth all the way in the back of her mouth did not peek through. Valaena chuckles, turning away from the sight in time to see everyone else’s arrival.

Meleys lands first, with all the capability of a Queen like herself she settles on the sandy shore near the castle. Syrax and Seasmoke arrive neck in neck, but Syrax lands first. The Princess’s Princess lowers herself down, very mindful and with care. Seasmoke on the other hand is a spectacle of chaos. His body crashes to the ground, shaking the saddle on his back and his rider sitting in it. Laenor’s laughter can be heard as Saesmoke slides a few inches across the sand, before using his front legs to steady himself.

Shaking her head, Valaena chuckles again, unsurprised to see Daegon making his way closer to Seasmoke. Rhaenys’ sigh can be heard as she too shakes her head before turning her attention to making sure Laena got down safely. The sound of Caraxes landing makes everyone look over. Syrax and Caraxes turn to each other, chirping in greeting as their riders dismount.

“Where did you go?” Rhaenyra asks her approaching aunt, hands. Valaena smiles as she comes to a stop beside her niece. From the corners of her eyes she can see Daemon walking towards them.

“I was with you all the whole time.” She answers, arm behind her back and lips twisting into a smirk. Rhaenyra’s gloved hands settle on her hips. Her brow curls with bafflement as she tilts her head to the side a little. Her aunt chuckles at the sight and when Daemon comes to stand next to them, a smile pulls onto his lips.

“Vaerax is a hunter, going unseen is a mastered skill.” She further explains at the sight of the look of confusion crossing her niece’s features. All three Targaryen’s turn to look at said dragon, green eyes already settled on them, as if knowing who the dragon of discussion was. The knowledge was terrifying, to know that cannibalistic beast could move through the sky so stealthy.

“Syrax is faster than I thought she would be.” Valaena speaks again as she looks over at Syrax, who has moved around the sand to stand closer to her rider. Rhaenyra looks over at her yellow friend, a prideful smile beaming on her face. The she-dragon had managed to not only keep up with Seasmoke, but she’d beaten him here.

"Can we go inside?" Laena asks loudly as she looks at her cousins while pointing back at Dragonstone. Aunt and niece look over to the uncle, who is quick to meet the eyes of his sister. She turns to face their cousins, her hand coming up to block the sun from her eyes.

“Of course we can, this is our castle after all.” She announces happily, a smile tugging on her face as she follows their cousins inside. It had been years since she stepped foot on Dragonstone, let alone walked the walls. She briefly looked back to see if Daemon and Rhaenyra were following before she stepped seaside doors of her childhood home.

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

All eyes turned to her and watched as she walked through the room nonchalantly. Her silvery-golden hair, that had been pulled back by two braids on either side and tied off at the nape of her neck to leave the ends loose and free, swung with each step she took. Her feet moved towards the far end of the table. An unwavered gaze set on the most important man in the room as she walked to him with grace.

"Ao ikso daor se tembyr." The Old King Jaehaerys spoke, their mother tongue moved past his lips with expertise. When she reached his side, she curtsied with a respectful nod. She raised up straight, her feet once again moved until she came to stand by her grandfather's right side, between him and her father. (You are not on time.)

"Nyke ikso se Mumuña." She informed him before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her attention then turned to her father, who nodded in acknowledgment. Her hand settled on his shoulder, to which he responded by gently squeezing the limb. (I was with grandmother.)

"Iksos ziry sȳrī?" Jaehaerys asked his granddaughter as he watched her walk towards the table where the decanter of wine sat. The young lady nodded at the words as she picked up the wine and turned back to the table. Her legs moved back towards the King and she poured his wine first. (Is she well?)

"Kessa, ziry iksos ēdrugon sir,  īlon ūndan silverwing tolī īlva geron." She told him as she turned to fill her father's cup. Her father, the Hand of the King watched her move around the table with silent pride in his eyes at the lady his girl was growing into. His father, pleased by his granddaughter's words, smiled tightly as her tardiness slipped away from his mind. (Yes, she is sleep now, we saw Silverwing after our walk.)

"Sȳz." The conversation is wrapped up, just like that. The King moved on, motioning for matters to be spoken again as his cupbearer does her job. As Valaena worked, she silently listened and took notes of all the things she'd ask her father, grandsire, or Corlys. The little girl who had been prone to moments of long quiet had become a young lady curious about more than those closest to her could keep up with. (Good.)

"The City Watch is once again in need of a new commander." The King's half brother, Lord Boremund Baratheon of Storm's End, spoke up. His loud voice flowed through the room like wind through the leaves of a tree. Valaena noted that this would be the third commander in less than a year. She had no doubt that the instability in leadership would mess with the effectiveness of the City Watch in the long run.

"A list has already been prepared, I plan to go over candidates this evening." Baelon responded quickly. Valaena stopped pouring for a few seconds and looked up at her father. His fingers tapped the top of the table as he looked away from his uncle, his eyes caught her as he did. Her eyes turned back to her task as she moved on to the next cup.

"The matter is very well handled." Baelon said when he turned to his father. Jaehaerys inclined his head towards his son before he turned to his half-brother and raised a brow. Boremund nodded in understanding that the matter would be settled.

"I have no doubts, the next matter, please." Jaehaerys spoke with no room for argument in his tone. His lavender eyes moved across the men of his council as he bid them to keep the meeting moving swiftly. From the other end of the table, Lord Corlys Velaryon shifted in his seat until he leaned closer to the table.

"My seamen speak of a rumor in the Free Cities. Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh have seemingly formed an alliance." The Lord of Driftmark chose his words carefully as he picked up the cup Valaena had just filled. Across from him, the King sighs, his head fell forward just enough to display his thoughts on the matter already. The Princess's ears perked up and her attention got caught. Normally she'd listen to boring accounts of trade or harvest stocks, nothing this interesting.

"To what end?" Her grandsire sighed, her father drank from his chalice, Lord Baratheon the Master of Law chuckled at the notion. Valaena watched the man across from him, Grand Maester Mellos looked over to the man beside him, Otto Hightower the Master of Whispers. She eyed them as they shared a look, nonetheless she poured into the last chalice, Lord Lyman Beesbury the Master of Coins, before she moved towards the side table off to the left of the council table.

"I am told they have temporarily settled their disputes, it would seem their attention has moved from just land to the seas." The Seasnake's answer sent a pulse of skepticism through the room. Those three cities had been fighting amongst themselves for so long that the idea of ceasefire was pretty much outlandish. And if those claims had some truth to them it could mark an ending in peace.

"More sea tales, like the pirates?" Ser Otto Hightower, ever the realest, piped up. Humor could be heard in his voice and an annoying tilt of pride in his tone. Valaena peaked over her shoulder, eyes immediately found that of her cousin by law as she waited for his response with a bated breath. Truthfully those two men were more alike than either of them would wish to admit. The Lord's jaw ticked and his eyes slowly moved to the other man.

"It could be ambition and with ambition comes conviction." Valaena always found herself impressed with Corlys, she admired the man and his strong determination, she also adored how he could be so petty in such classy ways. Anyone with half a brain would understand the thinly veiled warnings that came from the Lord of Driftmark. It was no secret that Otto Hightower, second son of Oldtown, was more ambitious than most - after all ambition is how he ended up at that very table.

"It would be in our best interests to ensure these are just whispers and if there aren't, then we must rip this ambition out by the roots." Sea blue eyes shifted away from the Hightower man to the King. The irony wasn't lost on Valaena, a Master of Whispers who doesn't like whispers that aren't his own. Slowly, the Princess turned around for a better view. She looked at her grandfather, who sat with a pondering look, before she looked at the stiffness in Otto's posture. She couldn't see her father's face, but she could see him pick up his chalice and finish off the contents in one drink , something he often did when her brothers bickered during meals.

"He is right, why worry over a problem that it is directly in front of you, when you may be able to stop it before that even happens?" Valaena spoke up, unable to stop herself. It didn't take long for every pair of eyes, including those of the King's Guard Commander Ser Ryam Redwyne, to look at her.  The young girl shifted on her feet as her eyes flickered to every expression directed at her; Boremund stared with a raised brow and pursed lips, Lyman looked at her thoughtfully as the crease between his brows deepened, Mellos' eyes glared at her up and down, Otto looked thoroughly annoyed and ready to scold. Corlys is the only one who looked pleased with her, his blue eyes shined bright with satisfaction and pride. Her grandsire looked at her thoughtfully before he turned with a light shake of his head.

"Or not." She mumbled to herself as she turned back to the table. The Princess didn't even glance at her father, she just knew he'd had that look, the one where his mouth drooped with worry and eyes blinked slowly like he was shook to his core by her. She instead focused on filling the decanter with more wine from the cupboard underneath the table.

"Lord Corlys is correct." The Old King's voice was a leveled neutral tone as he spoke. His right hand held his head as he used his propped up arm to lean against the arm of the chair. The man being spoken of sat up straighter, his head held high in confidence as he became filled with pride.

"Otto is as well, we cannot chase ghost stories, but Lord Corlys I would like for you to monitor this. I trust you will handle it accordingly." Princess Valaena watched as the first part of the words spoken by her grandsire caused the once cocky Lord to deflate a bit when not the sole recipient of praise. Corlys grew less tense as the King went on, he leaned back in the chair and let his shoulders relax as he was vindicated enough to be appeased. It was also enough to put the chip Otto Hightower carried further onto his shoulder.

"It would be my honor, your grace." Corlys agreed with a tilt of his head. He sat back in his seat as his eyes left the King and turned to the man two seats away. The pull of Otto's lips hinted at a satisfied grin and it only made the glare he received turn sharper. The young Princess watched the interaction and stored it away in her mind with all the other instances of the Hightower butting heads with someone - mostly her older brother Daemon and cousin Rhaenys.

"Might we now go over the accounts now, your grace?" Lord Beesbury asked, unintentionally cutting through the tension. Valaena began to move around the table again then, decanter in hand as she peered into each cup. The first she refilled was her father's before she tipped the container of wine towards her grandfather, who raised his left hand to wave her off.

"We may." Jawhaerys replied with a tired sigh. His granddaughter kept on, she'd stopped only to refill the Masters of Law's chalices. Corlys turned to her with a polite head shake, to which she nodded in response before she continued on to the other side of the table.

"We were under budget this moon, the leftovers, as her grace Queen Alysanne instructed, have been placed towards city upkeep." Lord Beesbury spoke steadily as he went over the sheet in front of him, she was careful not to spill any of the red on his papers as she poured more into his chalice. Valaena had caught a glimpse of the numbers and a few names when she had passed by his side of the table earlier. She knew the numbers off the top of her head, after all it was she who helped her grandmother compile them for the coin master.

"The allowances for next moon have been put to the side, they are ready for distribution whenever you see fit, your grace." The Lord went on as the Princess topped off Mellos' wine. Her interest was less than peaked, she always saved most of her allowance. Unlike her brothers she had no reason to splurge like royalty, no family to care for or brothels to visit. She didn't have expensive armor that would need fixing or the need for touching up a dragon saddle. Her grandmother commissioned most of her clothing and she'd been gifted more than enough jewelry to fund the whole North 

"Oh, Prince Viserys has asked for a slight increase, on account of Princess Rhaenyra." Her ears twitched at the mention of her brother and niece. She wasn't surprised, Rhaenyra was spoiled more than anyone she knew - on account of being Aemma and Viserys' only living child, it was understandable, to a certain point at least. This would be Viserys second time asking for an increase, but Valaena said nothing as she began to pour wine into Otto's cup. Part of her did wonder if her grandsire would approve, their grandmother had only agreed after she talked to her own son. Given that he hadn't blindly increased Daemon's she doubted it. There was no way Jaehaerys wouldn't ask dozens of questions that would lead him to realize it was unnecessary.

Her mind continued to wander as the council meeting droned on. Her great uncle spoke of border disputes and trade agreements soon to go into place. The Master of Ships updated them on the increased numbers to the Royal fleet. The Hand of the King went over agriculture logs and transports soon to come. The other men piped in when they felt it necessary, but the Princess did not speak again. She recorded everything of consequence in her mind.

As she stood by the side table, she did what she always did, people watched. Her eyes moved around the room, briefly settling on each man for a while before she moved on. Her grandfather was the last one she found her eyes upon. She could see exhaustion slowly creep upon him. His head leaned further into his hand and his arm lightly shook in response, only getting worse as the seconds ticked by. His face began to drop tiredly, his posture no longer as poised as in his younger, more rested days. His eyes told it all, drooped low when not blinking to stay open.

Her feet have moved before she can even stop herself. She positioned herself between her grandsire and the Hightower man. Her hand slid onto his shoulder and she gave it a light squeeze before her hand slid across his back. She carefully pressed at the tension in between his shoulders that he always complained about. Jaehaerys sighed gratefully, low enough to not draw attention away from the speaking Maester and to himself. It was then that Baelon began to pay closer attention to the tells of tiredness in his father.

The council meeting ended on the note of upcoming petitions and desires for an audience with the King. With the help of his granddaughter, the old man stood and soon the rest of his council followed. He was the first to leave, he'd hobbled out as the Commander of the King's Guard followed closely behind. The other Lords did not wait around, haste had been made to leave the room as soon as the King had. As part of her duties, Valaena began to take the cups over to the table on the wall for the servants to gather later. Her father watched as she moved between the two tables, both hands held chalices until all seven were collected.

The young Princess stared out the window that overlooked the city as she placed the seventh cup down. Behind her, her father's gaze had not left her as he began to speak to her. None of his words actually went into her ears or set into her mind, which was far away in thought. The question he posed to her, an invitation to come help him with matters in the Tower of the Hand, went unanswered which caused his feet to inch closer to where she stood.

"Valaena." The girl flinched when her father placed his hand on her arm. She looked up to see him watching her with a careful look in his lavender eyes. He sighed softly, his hand joined the other, both folding behind his back as he stared down at his youngest. She looked away from him again, this time her eyes focused on the tabletop before them. She studied the marble pattern and eventually moved on to drag her eyes over the intricate details on one of the council chalices.

"One of these days I'll have to tie you down so we do not lose you to the clouds." His musing gave less than its intended and desired effect. Raising her, technically alone, had been no easy task, this she knew. She was more opinionated than most young ladies, as strong willed as five Targaryen Princes, too smart for her own good, and when she wasn't ruffling feathers or stepping outside of the box, she was in a place no one could reach. Valaena had the tendency to get lost in thoughts and daydreams - at least that's what it looked like on the outside.

"I reckon I would still float up anyway." She warned, not wanting to disappoint her father yet again. Beside her, Baelon observed. He saw the way her shoulders sagged down and lost their earlier tension. He paid attention to the way her thumb rubbed at the skin of the finger next to it. He noticed the way she nipped at her cheeks and how her foot lightly tapped against the floor beneath it.

"Just, do not float too far." His voice was steady and soft, tone warm and light. His daughter looked up on instinct when he leaned in closer. Her lips parted, reply ready when the door opened and her brother walked in with his daughter in his arms. Their father turned on instinct while her head stayed as it was, but her eyes did move enough to catch her brother from her peripheral vision.

"Someone, could not wait any longer." Mirth coated Viserys' voice like honey on bread. His sister fought the vexation that she still couldn't quite understand why she got whenever he was close. She focused instead on her excited niece, the young Princess of three wore her silver-gold locs pulled back high with a baby blue bow. The dress she wore was the same color with long sleeves and flowers embroidered all over, courtesy of her mother, who also added a few birds here and there. The older Princess only noticed those Arryn birds when her niece came charging towards them.

"Kekepa!" Rhaenyra shrieked as she ran to her grandsire, those little chubby legs of hers moved with priority. Her father watched from near the door, lips spread so big and wide his cheeks looked like they ached. The elder Prince smiled a great smile that nearly matched his son's exactly. (Grandfather!)

"Byka zaldrīzes!" Baelon was quick to call her nickname as happily as he caught her in his arms. His own daughter watched for a few seconds, eyebrows scrunched up just a tad. Her niece giggled as she accepted the affection from her father's father. Valaena used the distraction to leave, walking past her brother, who ignored her in favor of taking the spot she once held. (Little dragon!)

"Where to, Princess?" Ser Westerling asked, his feet on the move as soon as she crossed the threshold. She shrugged at first. Silence joined them as they walked through the halls. Servants stopped to bow as she walked, something she hated and voiced enough to get in trouble with her grandmother. Lords and Lady no longer bothered to try and stop her to speak, they simply nodded their heads in greeting if they caught her eye - she'd gotten really good at avoiding eye contact.

"Has my brother returned from his flight?" She inquired as she sent a glance over her shoulder as her sworn shield. Ser Harrold Westerling had been in her service for four years now, hand picked by her own father after what some may have deemed, over the top and obsessive. Baelon had not cared, only wanting the absolute best when it came to his youngest. He had watched sister after sister disappear to the world around them, he wouldn't, he couldn't see his daughter succumb to the dark shadows in every corner of the realm nor could he have her turn into a long lost Princess. After Valaena disappeared for a whole day and most of the night, Baelon set out for a knight to keep Valaena safe - even if she needed to be kept safe from herself and all her quirks as her father would call them. Ser Harrold had been chosen and after a full year of a job well done, he was given a stop in the King's Guard as soon as the opening was available.

"I am afraid not Princess, he was last spotted over the Blackwater." The deep timbre of the knight's voice flowed through the air between them. The Princess clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth before she went quiet again. She hadn't been paying any attention to the halls around them as they walked, she rarely did anymore, she knew these walls nearly as well as she did the ones of Dragonstone. They passed through the corridors of court, lined with beautiful tapestries and artwork, into those of Maegor's Holdfast where Targaryen portraits and tapestries that were more guesses than pure Old Valyria fact took over the walls.

Unlike the previous corners they'd turned, these were guarded more heavily. Stoic men stood, ready to take action if needed. Ser Westerling soon realized where they were headed, only sure after Valaena did not turn towards her Grandsires apartments. She moved until the familiar doors of her apartment came into view. Her rooms sat beside her brother Daemon's, both of them were down the hall from their father, who occupied the Heir's apartment.

"I shall be just a moment Ser." Valaena went inside, leaving Ser Harrold to stand outside the door she'd flung open. Once inside, the Princess was on a mission. She walked over to the table by her bed, the silver posts shined with the sun's light, reflecting it all over the room. Her royal purple bedspreads were freshly made, tucked up by the steady hands of her handmaidens and no doubt overseen by Greta.

Her hand reached for the book by her bedside, the one she had started last night and fallen asleep on - The Legend of the Wall and Beyond. She tucked the book under her arm and spun around as her eyes started to search for the appropriate thing for where she was going. Eventually she found what she had been looking for, draped over the chaise by the window was the green cloak she'd borrowed from her father ages ago. The cloak had once been his favorite to wear whilst riding, he had leant it to his daughter when she'd gotten cold during a flight with Vhagar. Coldness was not the only thing that gripped her that evening, tiredness snuck in as well. She'd fallen asleep wearing it and refused to take it off when she'd been tucked in. It had been some time since then and somehow it became hers more than his.

Cape slung around her shoulders and book in hand, she had what she came for. She'd walked back to the door and walked right out. Ser Harrold's feet moved like shadows behind hers as she started down the familiar hall towards the back staircase, which was always less crowded than the front one. Their walk was a long one, one of many turns and lots of stairs until the lowest level of the keep greeted them. Valaena spent a lot of her time down there, tucked right under the alter where Balerion's skull now resided. It was quiet and peaceful there, no one bothered her, not even her thoughts.

Candles lit the area, they shined against the impressive bone of the once fearsome Black Dread. Ser Harrold took guard by the door they came through, his body positioned to see the archway and the rest of the room around them at the same time. While her guard stayed on alert, what if scenarios and all the ways to combat them ran through his head.

"Relax a little Ser, you will make me antsy being all tense." She beseeched him as she crawled under the last piece of the last creature to see Old Valyria. She pulled the cape around herself better before finding a comfortable position curled up with the book laid beside her. She could hear the knight give a reply, but the exact words were lost to the ones on the page before her.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

[110 AC]

"Are you nervous?" The question is whispered right against her ear, earning a few looks from bystanders, really nosey nobles dying to get a closer look at Princess Valaena Targaryen. She rolls her eyes, already wanting to be anywhere other than these walls. The one thing she hated most about being Royal was the constant presence of others, just watching and waiting for her to give them something to talk to each other about, good or bad - preferably bad.

"Is it bad if I say yes?" Her voice is a low mumble as she leans in closer to Arthur. He smiles small, despite trying to stay stoic around all the nobility. Getting through this circus would be interesting for everyone.

"Been six years since you left and we can't forget why you left." He reminds her gently. Valaena doesn't really want to remember, if anything she'd like to forget, to wash those memories away. It was easier to do when people did not know the whole of the story, but he knew everything.

He could still vividly remember the day she crashed down in his backyard, his impulsive younger brother leading her into their lives like it was nothing - the something it turned out to be. For the past six years Arthur had been by her side, watching as the base her house created was built upon by more than what royalty could provide and in some cases what it couldn't or simply wouldn't. She was no longer the small tower House Targaryen tried so hard to keep under lock and key, she was now a budding kingdom with pillars willing to fall just to keep her standing.

Big oak doors standing tall behind silver and white armor catches their eyes. When the commander sees her, his face brightens. Changed out of the purple riding gear she arrived in, the Princess now wears a silk, white, off the shoulder dress. Going along the outline of her shoulders and across her waist is silver metal fashioned to look like scales. The lower portion of her hair has been released from the braids she wore while flying there and two medium sized braids crown each side of her hair keep the curly strands behind her ears and going down her back. Her slender neck holds a dragon choker, the sharp metal tail curls towards the center of her chest.

"Princess." Ser Westerling offers a courtesy bow before he and the other guard push the doors open for her. She smiles widely at him as they get closer. Beside the Princess, her protector stares ahead. His hand moving back to his sword as he glares into the room with the awaiting Targaryen.

"Thank you Ser." Valaena says softly. Her eyes sparkle brightly as she looks from one sworn sword to the other. She gives Arthur's arm a gentle squeeze, pulling his attention away from her brother and to her. The conversation they have is silent, all eyes and looks that concludes with a nod from Arthur and Valaena leaning further into his side.

"The Princess Valaena Targaryen." Ser Harrold announces as Arthur walks her inside. It doesn't take long for him to disappear and the doors to thud shut, leaving her with Viserys. She looks around at the servants who bustle about to set up the rest of the meal. The room smells lovely, a mix of cooked herbs and spices with a dash of flower scented candles. Enough food to feed a tiny army covers the table.

"Sister." Viserys greets as he walks up to her, arms extended for a hug that ends up being awkward and tense. She isn't sure where to put her hands, they clumsily settle on his arms, just under his shoulders. She pats him softly as she stares at the wall, willing time to speed up. One of his arms wraps loosely around her waist, making her body wiggle backwards less than subtly, but his other arm rubs her back and keeps her closer than she'd like.

"Brother." Valaena forces the word out and tries her hardest to keep her tone from turning cold. She pulls away first, hands pushing him back as she moves her body backwards. Viserys' arms fall awkwardly at his sides as he looks at her, lips pressed together in what looked more like a grimace than the smile he was aiming for.

"Where are the others?" She questions after looking around and noting the absence of the rest of their family. The table was set with enough seats for them and the Velaryons, thankfully. Memories of dinners in this hall fill her mind. If she concentrates hard enough she can still see her father, sitting at the end of the table, right across from his own father. Viserys and Aemma sat on one side, while Daemon and her were placed on the other - divided even then.

"They will join us soon, I wished for the two of us to have a few moments." That was the last thing she wanted to hear. She thought over her options. She could say no, take a seat and wait for the others, but she was here for a reason. Nodding, her eyes urge him to continue. This time the way his lips curl better resembles a smile than before.

"May we sit?" He asks, motioning towards the table and chairs. His feet are already moving before she can even give an answer. The crown on his head signifying his status within these walls more than words ever could.

"Of course." She tells him as she closes her eyes for a few seconds. Her lips press tightly together as she sighs, but she wills her feet move. Viserys is kind enough to pull a chair out for her, his hand motioning towards it before he moves to his own chair at the head of the table.

"Wine." He calls out, the order clipped, but followed with haste. Valaena watches as a young serving boy rushes to the table, he moves two cups toward them and then pours the red liquid into them. Viserys picks his chalice up and waves the boy away.

"Thank you." Valaena calls out before the young brunette boy can get far. It stops him in his tracks, taking him aback. He still nods, polite and grateful to the Princess.

"It is truly good to see you again. I had feared this day would never come." Viserys tells her after taking a drink of the red arbor from the golden cup. She hums at his words as she brings her own cup to her mouth. He watches as she drinks, taking in how much his sister had changed. Her hair was shorter, just past her shoulders instead of down her back as their grandmother had kept it. The soft curves of childhood morphed into sharp lines of womanhood. Her skin was tanned, a shade darker than the usual snow pale complexion he was used to. Her eyes seemed brighter, they'd always been sparkling jewels, but now they gleamed like stars.

"I must admit I did all I could to avoid it." She tells him honestly as she looks into her cup. Her fingers brush against the cool metal she holds. She notices Viserys shifting uneasily, which makes her look up.

"Does he know?" She asks, head titling to the side as she studies her elder brother. He cracks a weary smile. She realizes he means to play the ignorance card - something he was truly good at.

"Know what?" Viserys asks as he barely meets her eyes. His head moves just a little as he leans into the confused act. It sets a spark of annoyance through her and like the flame she is, she begins to ignite that spark into something more.

"Viserys do not treat me like I am a fool. Do I look like an invalid to you?" She snips, voice short and tone stern. A dish clatters at the end of the table as one of the younger serving girls goes wide eyed and red cheeked. Valaena looks around, taking note of the servants trying not to eavesdrop as they stand around the King and his sister.

"Why do you think I left? Surely you and Aemma talked. Or did neither of you care enough to address what was going on?" She kept on, uncaring of who heard what. She was sure the rumor mill had run rampant, just like it did with all things her family did. Viserys looked around nervously, his body fidgeting uncomfortably in the chair. Even his own actions left him in a state of unease - good she thought as she watched, he deserved to feel something other than content.

"Everyone, leave us." The King speaks and his subjects listen. Valaena watches as everyone scatters to do as they've been told. When the doors open and red pours out, Arthur peaks inside, his eyes set in a hard squint as he looks from Valaena to her brother. His hands tightens around the hilt of his sword, making his knuckles flash white before he's forced to bite it all down as the doors close again with a heavy thud.

"I heard you, in the tower of the hand. It was pathetic to watch you be influenced so easily." She hisses out over the thudding door and her cup rattling against the tabletop from how hard she puts it down. Viserys flinches at his sister's voice and choice of words. His eyes move downward like a scolded child and not the king he was as he thinks back on the conversation.

"I had no plans to go through with it, not after thinking it over." He murmurs, his head shaking lightly as a sigh leaves his chest. She scuffs at that, her own head shaking along with her hands. Her fingers twist at the rings on her right hand, fiddling with them as she tries to calm herself.

"Let us agree to respect each other enough to at least be truthful." Valaena spits as she turns her nose up at him, not in the mood to play cat and mouse with him. Viserys looks at his sister in contempt. He knows he's wrong, but he'll use his resentment to justify anything, including lying to her as if they both did not know her intelligence saw through it. Even as a young girl, lying to her was hard to get away with. Valaena was observant and curious, she asked questions about things that might seem mundane in the moment, but become major later on.

"Very well." He agrees, a flash of Targaryen arrogance danced in him - always directed at her and not where it truly belonged. He reaches for his cup and takes a generous sip before sitting up straighter. She relaxed her posture enough to make him feel like she was more open than she truly was.

"She told me you left a few day after. I sent men out looking as soon as I knew. When we learned you had a dragon, Rhaenys and Daemon went looking." It was laughable, the way he explained it all. Rhaenys had told her, he didn't send for them until it was far too late to be able to track her properly. Daemon. Did he know? Did he really know? Rhaenys and Corlys hadn't, a fact she was more than happy to share.

"Does he know? The truth, the whole of it?" It has been the only question she's had this whole time. During the day she would think of Daemon, of what he could be doing, of the thoughts he might be thinking, and what he may be feeling. At night when she couldn't sleep, she'd lay awake and wonder if he'd been thinking of her too. On the days where things were the hardest, she'd pray to the gods that he was okay out there, that he didn't forget about her.

"Yes and I have already faced the dragon's rage for it. I am still trying to fix it, if I am to be honest." Viserys sighs deeply, his eyes going to a faraway place as he slumps backwards. The chair wobbles in place when his back flips against the cushioned backrest. It was notable that the eldest of Alyssa and Baelon's children favored his younger brother more than their younger sister. Where there was a bond built between him and his brother, he barely tried with his sister. Viserys loves Daemon deeply, cherishes him as much as he can with snakes hissing in his ear.

Where the brothers were close enough to seem like the family they were, the eldest and youngest were more like rivals than anything. It was the complete opposite for the second oldest and youngest, Daemon and Valaena were like two peas in a pod. They were so close it would be easier to cozy up to a dragon than it would be to come between those two. From the moment Valaena was born, she had become Daemon's favorite person, and he hers. Truthfully their elder brother had always envied it, though he could never figure out who he envied more between the two.

Before the conversation can go on, the big oak doors open again. Mother and daughter stand in the doorway. One dressed in a baby blue, long sleeved, silk dress and the other in a pink short sleeve, silk dress. Valaena stands, the excuse welcomed as she begins to put space between herself and Viserys.

"Queen Aemma Arryn and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen." Ser Harold introduces her cousin and niece. She smiles brightly as she meets them halfway. Aemma doesn't wait, her arms pull her good sister in as close as she can, the two properly hugging for the first time in six long years.

"Valaena." The close contact is a lot for her, but she accepts it. Her eyes move to the corner of the room and she quickly regrets it. Her lids fall shut as she ignores the hauntingly familiar face speaking words she can't hear.

"Thank the gods that you are okay and thank you for coming back." The Queen mumbles as she rubs her hand along the Princess's upper back. The skin on skin makes her shiver so deeply she can feel her bones shake and rattle. She pulls back, eyes opening to find Aemma's sparkling blues, and smiles as genuinely as she can.

"Yes, of course. I believe congratulation is in order." Valaena's attention turns down to the bulge of her cousin's stomach, full of the promise of life. It pulls the younger woman out of the moment, now no longer able to ignore the lingering feeling of eerie dread that washes over her like a sick baptism. Aemma smiles brightly as she looks down to her bell, her hands cradling the bump lovingly.

"Thank you, we are hopeful this time." She tells the Princess as she sinks into her husband. Valaena eyes her brother as he comes to stand beside his wife with a boastful smirk. It makes his sister sick, how he's still so giddily desperate for a son, so much so he's willing to kill their cousin for it. Then to be so prideful as if the ten minutes he put in could compare to the time Aemma sacrificed for his desires. Valaena can not bring herself to respond, instead her eyes move to the younger Princess.

"Rhaenyra." Greeting said girl, Valaena gives a little curtsy. Her niece smiles a small barely there smile before returning the gesture of courtesy to the senior Princess. Aemma watches them interact with a wide smile that shows almost all of her teeth, as well as makes the apples of her cheeks bigger and rounder than usual.

"Aunt." The word tastes unfamiliar on Rhaenyra's tongue. She didn't remember much of her aunt, she was still young when Valaena disappeared. Most of what she can remember is fragments, most of their time spent together was when Rhaenyra was younger and before Daemon took over a larger focal point in Valaena's life.

"You have grown. I remember when you were born, look at you now." As she looks over her niece, pride blooms within her chest. A fine valyrian beauty the young Princess had become. A record breaking dragonrider with fire in her eyes. It was very clear that Rhaenyra had grown to be a fine young woman and as she grew she'd have the potential to become a great example of Targaryen royalty. Valaena would give it to her brother, mostly Aemma, for how the surviving daughter turned out.

"It seems like it was just yesterday, does it not?" The reminiscent tilt of the Queen's voice makes Valaena smile. It did seem like only days had passed since their family had sat outside Aemma's chambers, listening to her birth yet another babe, only this time the cries weren't full of grief as they had been before. The news of the newest Targaryen babe was like a shining light in the darkness that had swept through their lives as of that time. A Princess, not the Prince that was hoped for, but a living breathing Princess was a miracle just as worthy of the praise. Their grandmother had been the most excited, second to Aemma of course. Their grandfather had been pleased enough to smile softly, but the weight of being King and securing heirs sat deep in his eyes, an ever present burden. Baelon rejoiced at his granddaughter in a way that would never leave his daughter's mind, even now - thirteen years later, half of which she missed.

Looking at the small family, Valaena can see the love her brother and good sister have given their daughter. While Viserys was desperate for a son, a rightful heir in his mind, he hadn't loved Rhaenyra any less. Loss after loss is a hard thing to endure and his sister would never downplay that pain, but as she thinks back to all the pain and suffering Aemma had been put through on the path of duty, her sympathy wanes into nothing. She feels the most for Aemma, a large hole full of sadness, pity, and uselessness sits deep in her being. She wishes Aemma had experienced more than this life, wishes she could have helped make it happen without it being at her expense. Before she can fall into her head, the doors open yet again.

"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and her Lord husband Corlys Velaryon. The heir to Driftmark Laenor Velaryon, and his sister the Lady Laena Velaryon." Ser Harrold stands against one of the doors, his booming voice introduces the ones Valaena wants here most. The family of four enters, each dripping in Valeryon blues and bronze with pearls of the sea to decorate them. She relaxes enough to look genuinely happy being here for the first time tonight. It's a strike to the face for Viserys and a harsh reality for Aemma as Valaena practically floats towards the Velaryons.

"Valaena!" Laena giggles loudly as she throws herself into Valaena's embrace. They squeeze each other tightly and not long after Laenor joins them, wrapping his arms around them both and squeezing with all his might. The three of them laugh with the close familiarity that might make one mistake them for true born siblings. Rhaenys and Corlys watch with a deep and warm feeling of love from their spots near Viserys, Aemma, and Rhaenyra. When they pull away, Valaena looks over to their parents with a smile. Valaena whispers something to the twins before taking the few steps towards their parents.

"Rhaenys. Corlys." Valaena greets them both with bright smiles and tight hugs. Corlys' fatherly smile extends to her as he squeezes her tighter than his son had - the strength of a seaman. Rhaenys pulls her cousin in next, keeping her hold for longer than the others had. Silent understanding passes through them as Valaena wraps her arms around the elder Targaryen Princess and pulls her closer. Corlys guides his kids to give proper greetings, as well as give the two cousins a moment.

"Dõna riña." Rhaenys whispers as she rocks them side to side. A stuttering breath leaves Valaena and her cousin squeezes her once. Slowly the two pull away, no words are exchanged, a look simply says a thousand words. Rhaenys didn't know it all, but she knew enough to understand. (Sweet girl)

Again, the doors swing open, both Targaryen women look over. The servants Viserys had dismissed earlier were back now. They move with the efficiency that only repetition can build over time. Before the doors can shut, the last missing member comes into view.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen." He doesn't even wait for the knight to properly introduce him to strut inside. His black surcoat is decorated by red sleeves and silver stitching made to look like wind around the neck and bottom of the shirt. His silver strands were pulled back, pulling even more attention to his face - sharp angles mixed with delicate features, the kind of beauty Valyrians were held on pedestals for. His lilac eyes didn't need to search for her, they'd already been on her from the moment he entered.

His vision tunneled on her like she's the light at the end of it all. His eyes slide over her like water on rocks, taking in each feature he'd have to memorize once more. All the nights he spent drawing her in his mind using only memories had been for nought, his sister had changed in ways he would have loved to witness first hand. The soft curves of her face that came from youthful innocence were now chiseled, sculpted by life lived and the claiming embrace of maturity. Her silvery hair shines with a golden tint that paints an ever present halo around her. The brightness of her eyes was the only thing that hadn't changed. The amethyst orbs shine brighter than any jewel, just as he remembered. Those same eyes keep him captive as he draws closer and closer to her.

Rhaenys and Corlys herd their children towards the table, following the royal family's lead as they give Daemon and Valaena a moment. Settling at the head of the table, Viserys watches as his brother and sister exchange words. On his left, his daughter tries to listen in to what they're saying, but it's no use - those two mastered the art of whispers long ago. Across from her daughter, Aemma watches both scenes.

Daemon's forehead falls softly onto Valaena's. The distance between them does not exist as Daemon makes her space his. At some point her brother's arm wraps around her waist while his hand seeks hers out. Their fingers intertwine as their eyes find each other. At the other end of the table Corlys sits with Rhaenys to his left, their eyes finding the others before moving to the scene across the room.

"I have a gift for you." Valaena whispers to Daemon, her eyes on his face, taking the chance to admire him without his teasing as he keeps his eyes close. Her brother hums, his body inching closer as his lips begin to curl. Slowly, his eyes peel open, meeting her alluring gaze immediately.

"Oh?" The Prince smirks suggestively. The Princess shyly smiles, a dusty blush creeping onto her cheeks as she looks away. Her brother's forehead softly knocks against hers and his other hand squeezes her hip, his arm wrapping further around her waist.

"It is nothing of that sort." She playfully scolds as her other hand lightly pushes his arm. His chuckle fades into a hum. Very slowly, the two of them pull back just enough so that they can look at each other.

"I will take you to it after supper." She informs him, her head moving slightly towards the table behind them. His eyes flicker over her shoulder, finding the poorly hidden snooping their family was up to. Viserys doesn't bother to hide his gaze from them, his eyes squint in the same way they'd done years prior whenever his younger siblings were too quiet for comfort. Aemma's eyes flicker between her daughter and the scene, knowing how close the girl was with her uncle and how seeing him give such adoration to another must be strange. Rhaenyra's eyes jumped away from her uncle and aunt as soon as they turned. Rhaenys and Corlys are no doubt gossiping about the sibling duo as they murmur to each other.

Valaena turns, causing Daemon's hand to fall to the small of her back. Together, the two of them walk towards the table, with him doing as much as he can to keep the space between them minimal. Laenor sat by Corlys' right side, with Laena next to her mother on the left. Between Laena and Rhaenyra was an empty space for one. Aemma and Laenor were on the same side with two empty spaces between them, naturally that's where Daemon maneuvers them to. Growing up they always sat next to each other - lessons, dinners, celebrations, scoldings.

Daemon pulls out the chair beside Laenor for his sister, who gives his hand a squeeze of thanks before sliding into the chair. He places a long kiss on Valaena's head before taking his own seat. Servants move as soon as he lowers onto the plush cushion of his chair. Chairs are pushed in further, drinks are poured, and meats are cut before they start to fix their plates. An awkward silence passes through the room, with only utensils clicking as background noise.

Valaena looks up from her plate, she finds Rhaenys and her family first, they all talk to each other quietly. Though it is tense, they don't let the environment hinder their supper time together. She thinks about how easy it would be to join their conversation. When Valaena looks over, she finds her niece staring at her own plate with an unreadable expression. She finds the girl's parents next, a conversation passes through their eyes and expressions. When she looks at her brother she is not shocked to see him watching her, but she is shocked that he is so quiet - it is truly unlike him. The silence was killing her slowly.

"I met our aunt while I was in Volantis." She speaks, loud enough to be heard and hopefully start conversation amongst everyone. Viserys and Aemma look at her with confusion, not understanding who she was talking about at first. Daemon quickly figured it out and it makes his heart skip a beat before dropping to his stomach. While it is news to her brothers, good sister, and niece, it isn't to the others down the table.

"Saera. She is a joy, truly." When no one speaks the Princess continues as she stabs a roasted potato with her fork. She finally looks up as she pops the root vegetable into her mouth. She chews slowly watching the realization settle in the King and Queen's faces. Rhaenyra's eyes are wide, stories of Princess Saera were used as cautionary words by her septa, she finds herself unsurprised that her aunt would keep such company - after all there were stories of Valaena as well. Valaena sneaks a glance over at Daemon as she tries to gauge his reaction to the revelation.

"Is she still, um-..." Valaena smiles as she listens her brother stumble for the appropriate words. Raising a brow, she looks up. Instead of answering, Viserys leans forward as if he wishes for her to fill in the blanks herself.

"A brothel whore?" She quips, just to see that face. His lips press together as an exhausted sigh leaves his lips. Daemon snickers, despite the many thoughts running through his mind. Aemma gasps out, softly calling Valaena's name in distress. Corlys coughs before picking up his cup. Rhaenys can only shake her head as her eyes close for a brief moment.

"She is living the life she wants and that is all that matters." She tells them, more seriously this time before she goes back to her plate. The smile on her lips is full of amusement and when she looks over, her niece wears a similar smile as she stares at her aunt. The elder Princess winks at the younger, making her smile grow wider.

"What did you do in Volantis?" Rhaenyra asks, her food temporarily forgotten. A sly smirk tugs at Valaena's lips as she pushes the mixed vegetables around as an excuse to not look up. She'd had the whole trip here to think about what she'd tell them and what she'd keep to herself, but as she sits there she's wondering again.

"Lived a little." The smirk is set upon her lips when she says the words. The chair holding Daemon creaks as he shifts towards her, his body nearly turning all the way around. Her head tilts back a smidge as her brow raises, like she's posing a challenging question.

"Six years, lot of living one would think." Daemon mutters before reaching out to grab his chalice. She watches her brother take a drink, his brow raises identically to the way her had. Valaena smiles and her eyes flicker away from his.

"I bought land, it came with a manse and I built a tower." She decides to go with a version of the truth that leaves out main missions and focuses on the side ones. This makes Viserys look up from his plate as his lips spread into a smile. Daemon's posture relaxes as he settles back against the chair, but his eyes stay on his sister.

"That is where you are living?" Viserys asks. He sounds more excited than necessary and Valaena is pretty sure she knows why. Looking away from one brother, she looks to the other.

"No, not often anyway. We went after Tyrosh and before Myr." Volantis was more like a seasonal home, a place to go when the weather was just right and a break was needed. Volantis was meant to be a quick stop on a long mission, but when the opportunity to take over the manse and buy up extra land around it came, she couldn't pass it up.

"I spent most of my time traveling, I stay wherever I land." She lets Viserys know after he seems to visibly deflate at the news. She wasn't a simpleton, she knew her brother was hoping Volantis was her permanent home, so that she didn't have to return to this one again. She wasn't sorry to disappoint him, but she did agree with him, staying in King's Landing shouldn't be a long term thing.

"Syrax grows beautifully Rhaenyra, she favors her mother though she has her fathers coloring." Valaena's compliment makes the Princess's eyes shine. Rhaenyra leans forward, her body practically lounging on the table top. Aemma lightly scolds her daughter as much as she can from across the table, though her attempts are hardly stern enough as she's happy to see her niece interacting with the only aunt she can be close with.

"Thank you. She grows more and more each day." Valaena's openness breaks the tension in the room just enough for the family to sit with conversation, instead of silence. Rhaenyra gushes and that makes Valaena beam. Aemma and Viserys watch their daughter with all the pride and love a true parent can give. Daemon is busy admiring Valaena, he still had questions, but that could wait.

"Is she fast?" Of course the first conversation aunt and niece would have after years would be about dragons. Excitedly, Rhaenyra nods as a smirk slowly crawls upon her lips. Her eyes turns to the man between them with the jest on the tip of her tongue.

"Faster than Caraxes." The young Princess brags as she eyes her uncle with a teasing smile. Daemon scoffs playfully, his head shaking lightly as he looks at his niece and then back to his sister, silently denying the claims. Valaena chuckles at the pair, amused and intrigued.

"I must see her in action, I am sure it is magnificent." Valaena compliments with a genuine smile. It was common knowledge that the Princess preferred the dragons to people, often in the dragonpits or with the skulls beneath the keeps. She knew more about dragons than anything else, something she prided herself on. Her aunt Jocelyn once joked she'd become a dragon keeper one day - she hadn't been all too wrong about that.

"Is that really the Cannibal?" Rhaenyra asks, her voice full of disbelief. Valaena gives a proud smile and a humble nod. Her bright eyes close for a moment before opening again. Again all eyes turn to her, everyone more than ready for more information about Valaena and her dragon after she mumbles a small 'yes'.

"Vaerax, for Caraxes and Vhagar if I remember correctly." Daemon speaks up softly as he informs the table, the arrogant undertone in his voice is poorly hidden as he drops Valaena lore. She blinks slowly as her lips rub together in an attempt to hide her smile. The hand closest to her moves to rest on the back of her chair as he gives her his full attention, face full of admiration.

"You do." She hums in agreement. The warmth that floods her cheeks at the way he looks at her has nothing to do with being the blood of the dragon. Across from them, Rhaenyra watches, unaware of their cousin's watchful stare. Aemma and Viserys watch as well, the conversation they share is about the worry of the mayhem these two may cause - it was sure to come knowing them.

"What made you come back?" Rhaenyra asks suddenly, her voice rising high. Her question breaks her uncle and aunt from their moment. Daemon looks over at Viserys slowly and the King drinks from his chalice immediately. Valaena on the other hand looks at Aemma first before her eyes move down the other end of the table.

"Rhaenyra." The Queen gasps in a scolding manner. Valaena startles for a split second, but quickly recovers with a chuckle. She reaches toward her own glass of wine and takes a much needed drink. A smile sits on her lips as she places the metal cup back on the wooden tabletop.

"I thought it was only fitting to meet my nephew, like I did with you niece, and what better time than during his very first celebration?" Viserys, who had been looking at his sister with a mix of curiosity and anxiety since his daughter asked the question, perks up. His lips slowly stretch into a grin as he looks over to his wife with wide and hopeful eyes to match the grin on his face. On the other side of the table Corlys shifts, his chin resting on his hand as he looks over at his wife, who is looking at her cousin like she's trying to solve a puzzle.

"So, the babe will be a boy?" Valaena doesn't answer him with words, but a hum that comes from deep within her chest. She looks back to her plate, her fork nudging the braised beef on her plate. In the back of her mind she sees the flashes of dreams, prophecies yet to happen, but futures already looming. She swallows down the lump in her chest before going for the wine once more. She winces into her cup when Viserys laughs excitedly, his hand brings Aemma's hand to his lip and kisses her ring.

"A time for celebration indeed." Corlys chimes in from the other end of the table, his wine filled cup rising. Rhaenys follows after a bit of hesitation, her feelings towards male heirs only very known and unchanging. Daemon picks up his cup, but not to toast, he sips from it without even bothering to look up. Rhaenyra looks around as if she missed something major. Her father is too busy gleaming with joy to notice, but her mother does, of course she does, she always does, always will.

"Your aunt has predicted the sex of every babe born into the family after herself. She knew you'd be a girl." Aemma explains with a soft smile, purposefully tiptoeing around the topic of the other babes Valaena predicted correctly, even when they didn't make it. Rhaenyra looks over at Valaena, who has her eyes set on a corner in the room with a far away look on her face. When Rhaenyra looks back at her parents, they've turned their attention back to each other. While Viserys basks in the joyful promise of a boy, his wife can only hope things go right this time.

"Valaena knew that Laena was a girl." Rhaenys chimes in as she looks knowingly towards her youngest cousin. If anyone understood the plight of being the firstborn, but not a son, it would be her. When she looks over to the girls mother, she feels even worse, Aemma's history was known by all, the plight of a queen. While the kingdom had lost heirs, the Arryn Queen had lost children and a great many.

"And she was right about Laenor as well." Corlys says, his words filled with pride as he further encourages Viserys' excitement. It is those words that makes Rhaenys's head shake. Conversation starts to naturally flow around them. Viserys begins to talk with Corlys from across the table, Aemma talks to her daughter about their days, Laena and Laenor talk about the lists.

"You've been busy." Daemon mutters to Valaena as he leans over in his chair until their arms brush against each other. Slowly, she looks over at him with a coy smile playing at her lips. This time it is she who lets her eyes run over him. His hair is much longer than the last time she'd seen him, a bunch of strands on either side are pulled back and tied off to keep his hair out of his face. His beauty shines, a charming and rogue aura of pure confidence that suited him more than it would any other.

"Yes." She mutters back as her eyes lock onto his. Around them, the room narrows to just the two of them. The chatter and sounds of eating do not register as they fall back into the other's orbit.

"I am eager to hear all about it." Daemon truthfully states. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip after he finishes. Valaena leans to the side away from him before her head leans on her shoulder.

"Mmm, soon I suppose." She teases before biting her bottom lip. Slowly, but surely, warm smiles slide onto their faces as they keep eye contact. A million words are shared between them with just the looks in their eyes and the few words spoken.

Some things are different, have changed in unimaginable ways, but others have truly stayed the same.

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Masterlist

Ages

Valaena : 22

Daemon : 29

Arthur : 32

Serena : 37

Ellya : 23

Ysilla : 25

Myria : 26

Elena : 19

Ariel : 10

Laena : 18

Laenor : 16

Rhaenyra : 13

Alicent : 18 (same age as Laena instead of being the same age as Valaena (in the books Alicent was born in 88 like Valaena!))

Viserys : 33

Aemma : 29

Rhaenys : 36

Corlys : 57

Otto : 54

This is basically a complete au lol. It started off as a fix it fic for all the bs that hotd messed up. I'll be using some plot points and changes from the show, as well as canon lore from the book. Dates, ages, and deaths are definitely different from the show and book, events are totally different as well. This book is purely for the vibes at this point lol and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If I hadn't dedicated so much time and energy into the idea for this story, I might've went back and changed things, but I like it so hopefully you all will love it!

“I don’t normally have a reason to.”

“And yet, is this your second or third time with me?” You were only trying to push his buttons a little bit. Judging by the sharp intake of breath, it had worked.

“I can always withdraw my offer.” His voice was stern but the twinkle in his eye told you a different story.

“No, no, I accept… And I want to apologize too.” He turned his head to you then, searching your face, waited for you to continue. “I… This was reckless. This whole thing is just so...?” You waved your hand about aimlessly, at a loss for words.

“If I had a dime for every time one of my detectives, for every time I got too close to a case, well… Noone is judging you for trying to do the right thing.” You let his words sink in. “This time things went well, next time you might not be so lucky, it’s not worth getting yourself hurt, you can’t help anyone if something bad happens to you.” He was looking at you so earnestly it made your heart clench.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were going soft on me counsellor.”

“Would you prefer it if I called you an impulsive dumbass instead?”

“There he is.” He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling. Then, he reached for your hands, enveloping them in his, the contact warmed you to your core.

“I meant what I said (y/n)” You could feel the familiar pull reinstating itself between you. Less fiery this time though, it was sweeter, more wholesome. The moment was stolen from you as the car door pulled open. You and the ADA jumped apart like guilty teenagers, it was Olivia. You didn’t miss the smug look that crossed her features.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” You also didn’t miss the way Rafael rolled his eyes either.

“No, what’s the 411?”

“The vic is Alicia Garcia, they’ve took her to Mercy General, Carisi and Rollins are with her now. We couldn’t get anything out of her though, whatever they drugged her with is hardcore, she was completely out of it.”

“And the two kids?”

“Alex Martinez and Cole Mills. They work at the Lucky Cat, a bartender and a runner.” You exhaled sharply; Olivia shot you a look. Your mind was doing hurdles. The bar staff? It made sense, you’d heard of cases in the past of bartenders caught spiking drinks, some sick power play.

“(Y/n)?” She could see the gears spinning.

“If it was the bar staff then how do you explain the spread of attacks over eight venues?” She took a moment to ponder.

“Maybe these guys are job hoppers? It’s not unheard of in the industry.” You shook your head, no, the timeline didn’t make sense for that to be the case.

“What’s your theory?” Rafael asked you.

“If these are the guys… Then either most of the rapes aren’t connected to the ones that happened here, or there’s something else going on, something bigger.” Your heart had dropped into your throat. There was no best-case scenario here.

“We can’t remand them until Monday morning at the earliest, throw them in the tombs and see what you can dig up.” Rafael said, “Call me when you find something.”  Olivia nodded.

“I will, CSU is on the way, there’s not much else for us to do here. (Y/n), I’ll drop you home, okay? It’s been an intense night; you need to get some rest.” You pulled the jacket tighter over your frame and nodded. Rest was the last thing you wanted, but you knew she was right, the adrenaline would wear off eventually and you were already running on fumes.

You didn’t remember much of the drive, distracted thoughts about the past three hours playing on loop. Everything had changed, the theories and ideas you’d had for months flipped on their head. Your body was still tingling with energy by the time you pulled up at your apartment building. Olivia offered to walk you up to your door, but Rafael interrupted, volunteering to do it himself.

“Wait here a second.” He said, when you got the front door of the building. He turned on his heel and leant through the window of the car. He and Olivia had a quick, whispered conversation, Rafael nodded and stepped back. You watched in wonder as she started the car and drove off down the street. When he returned to your side, you cocked your head in question.

“If it’s okay with you, I thought I could sit with you for a while, you’ve had a stressful night, I just want to-“

“I’d like that.” You cut him off, relishing the shy smile he shot you.

…

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he knew Liv would rib him for later, but he was only half lying when he said he wanted to make sure (y/n) was okay. The evening had veered further off kilter then any of them could have imagined. He could still feel the dull irritation in the bottom of his chest at her carelessness, but it was overwhelmed by every other emotion that had followed. The horror of what they had almost witnessed, sympathy for the poor woman who probably still had no idea what she’d been saved from, tenderness for the journalist, but also a swell of pride at what she had unwittingly led them to. Things were about to take an interesting turn, that was for sure.

(Y/n) led him up the stairs, it was almost a play for play recap of the previous night. It won’t end like last night he mused to himself. She slid her key in the lock and beckoned him over the threshold. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her corner of the city to look like, but he was surprised by how small it was. A tiny living area that was met by an even smaller kitchen, a narrow hallway off to the side that he suspected led to her bathroom and bedroom. She must have caught him staring because her cheeks grew pink.

“Sorry, I know it’s not much, but it’s rent controlled, and the neighbours are quiet so…”  He shook his head, smiled at her.

“It’s… cute.” She shoved his arm playfully.

“And where do you live? The Ritz?”

“Something like that.” She rolled her eyes, throwing her purse down on the kitchen counter.

“You want something to drink? I have bourbon.”

“I’m more of scotch guy, but I’ll bite.”

“Sorry, I would’ve asked Olivia to stop off at a liquor store if I’d have known you were going to be so picky.” He chuckled smoothly, his back to her. He was studying the room. It was small but had a cheerful, lived in quality. There were several overflowing bookcases, a colourful array of art prints framed along the walls. A plush sofa, boxed in by lamps and house plants. Everywhere smelled like her perfume. He traced the mantle with his fingers, picking up a framed photo of her and another woman who he vaguely recognised from his late-night Instagram scrolling.

“My sister.” She said, making him jump slightly. He placed the photograph back in its spot and turned, to face her. His heart stopped and he had to fight to stop his jaw from dropping open.

(Y/n) had at some point removed the bulky NYPD jacket that Amaro had given her and a small part of him was thankful that she’d been concealed beneath it for the majority of the evening. He willed himself to avert his eyes, to be a gentleman, if his Mami could see him now she’d smack him around the back of the head. But as it turned out, Rafael was a red-blooded man, and she was the most infuriating, beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. His pants were becoming uncomfortably strained, and a coil of jealousy was tightening inside of him at the thought of her being ogled in that dingey little club, by sad little boys who didn’t deserve the honour.

“Earth to Barba.” (Y/n) chided, waving the glass of bourbon under his nose. He coughed, trying to play off the fact that he had been blatantly gawking at her. He took the glass from her hand, electricity jolting through him at the brief contact her skin made against his. He took a generous swig, trying to think of the least arousing things possible. Rafael Barba was well and truly screwed.

…

There was something delicious about the way he had momentarily lost control, eyeing you like a starved man. Something even better about the mortification that settled over his features, desperately trying to save face. You resisted the urge to mess with him, just about and took a sip of the wine you had poured for yourself, moving to the sofa. You tucked your legs underneath you.

“Make yourself at home.” You said, patting the space beside you. He actually looked nervous, despite his obvious attempts to conceal it. You were flattered, big bad Barba, king of the courtroom, reduced to red faced bashfulness. You couldn’t help the little smirk that twitched at your lips. “Barba… Rafael, is everything okay?” He forced a laugh, took a gulp of his drink and settled down into the cushions.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, long night y’know” His voice was husky, the heat rolling off of his body was tangible. You reached over, placing a hand on his leg, relishing the way his breath hitched.

“Sorry, I guess I kinda blew your Saturday night up.” His eyes were staring intently at your hand, they travelled up your arm, stopping momentarily at your chest, sending a bolt of warmth to your core, before settling on your face.

“A slight hiccup, besides, I wasn’t doing anything exciting.”

“Oh? How was the DA’s finest spending his weekend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s why I asked.” His eyes glinted mischievously, part of you thought that he probably got off on your little tete-a-tete’s. He drained the last of his bourbon.

“Refill?”

“Please” When you rose, walking to the kitchen, you made sure to add a little extra sway to your hips. It was cruel and you had strayed far beyond the realm of professionalism, but you didn’t care anymore. The adrenaline was making you impulsive, it seemed. Mixed in with weeks of building tension between you and the ADA. That and his close proximity making you realize just how touch starved you had been.

You had your back turned, so you didn’t notice him as he followed you into the kitchen. But the space was narrow, and you could feel his presence behind you. You didn’t react, but your heart was hammering in your chest, a flush working its way up your neck. Rafael reached out from behind you, taking the bottle from your hand, placing it on the counter. He had caged you in between his arms and the worktop. His breath was like fire, setting your skin ablaze. Your thighs clenched desperately.

“We shouldn’t.” His words were like velvet, whispered against the delicate whorl of your ear. “It’s a conflict of interest.”

“It is.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“And if I don’t want you to?” He practically growled as he spun you around to face him, his body pressing into you. You stared at each other, the tension between you was like a wave about to crest. He buried a hand in your hair and paused, like he was waiting for permission. You nodded and then his lips were on yours, the wave finally crashing. His mouth was white hot against yours; you could taste the smokiness of the bourbon and something else, something that was uniquely him. His free hand was on you, desperately pawing at the hem of your top, skimming the exposed skin. You whimpered and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside of you. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing into you, the intensity was making you light-headed. Rafael broke the kiss.

“No tienes idea de lo que me haces sentir.” He groaned, his fingers, feather light, danced over your swollen lips. You struggled to follow his words, you weren’t fluent. His eyes were blown with lust, looking at him like this had you weak at the knees, body gently trembling. He reached down again, gently grazing your lips with his own, sighing. He pulled away, much to your disappointment. You didn’t know whether to love or hate the neediness you felt in your core.

“Raf-?” You muttered, the question evident in your tone. He took your face in his hands gently.

“I want to… but not like this.”

“I don’t understand.” Your brows knitted together, your stomach swooping uneasily. You could feel tendrils of anxiety pulling at you, had you done something wrong? He kissed the furrow, smiling at you, sincere, pure.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you (y/n), it’s been a tough night, I don’t want to do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I’m a big girl; I can make decisions for myself.” You were only half arguing. You were frustrated, of course, you wanted him to bend you over and take you right there, next to the cookbooks and wine rack. But the other part of you, the sensible part was soaring. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so noble towards you, if a man had ever respected you like Rafael was in that moment. He kissed you again, chastely. You knew in that moment that you were well and truly in deep. Fuck.

“How about, I order us some takeout, you take a shower, and we can watch TV?” He proposed, rubbing your arms gently.

“Okay, but I’m choosing what we eat and what we watch.” He looked ready to counter but thought better of it.

“Deal.”

…

The next morning, you woke up tucked into your bed, pale yellow sunshine warming your face. You didn’t remember falling asleep in your room. You searched through memories of the night before. You had showered, like Rafael said and changed into one of your nicer pairs of pyjamas, wanting to make a bit of effort. When you re-entered the main room, he was sprawled out on your sofa, a pizza box sitting untouched on the coffee table. You remembered eating with him, eventually curling into his side as you watched trash TV, his fingers combing through your hair. You figured you must have fallen asleep there and he carried you to your bedroom, ever the gentleman. You wondered if he was still in the apartment, but you didn’t need to go searching because the answer lay in a folded-up piece of paper, tucked neatly under a glass of water. His neat handwriting read:

(Y/n) I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I’ve headed back home. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you for lunch? We have a lot to talk about. Message me, if you’d like to. All my best, Rafael.

The 16th precinct was in a lull for once, officers walking around the bullpen going from place to place, keeping up on their duties. Carisi sat at his desk, mulling over paperwork as a young blond man wearing dark green scrubs walks in, a nervous look on his face.

“Excuse me?” The man asked, catching Carisi’s attention. The detective looked up from his work.

“Yeah, how can I help?” The man stepped forward to the detectives desk.

“This is SVU, right? I looked at the plaque but I wanna make sure..” he trailed off as Rollins looked over at him quickly before resuming her work.

“Yeah it is, you got a crime to report?”

“Not yet, but I’m afraid if I don’t do something it can lead to one.” Carisi furrowed his brows before gesturing the man to take a seat next to his desk, gathering up his notepad and pen.

“Tell me what’s going on? And whats your name, kid?” The blond took a seat, raking his fingers through his hair.

“It’s my boss, well more like my friend, but I think she’s in trouble.” He took a pause, “my names Andy, Andy Novak.”

“And what sort of trouble is your friend in?”

“It’s, well it’s a sort of long story. She does shifts in our psych ward three times a week, and this guy was a patient for over a year. He had a real knack for her, only ever wanting to listen to her, giving her compliments and all.” Andy spoke, picking at his fingernails.

“Not to stop you, Andy.” Carisi started, “but I’m not seeing as how this is a sex crime.” Andy took a breath before leveling his gaze.

“I’m getting to it, I told you it’s a long story. Anyways, he got released a few months ago and he keeps showing up at the ER where we work mainly. And again, only ever wanting my friend.” Again, Carisi stopped him.

“This friend of yours have a name?” That’s when Andy stopped talking, biting his lip in contemplation.

“That’s the thing, she doesn’t know I’m here.” Before Carisi could say anything, Andy continued. “I know, I know! I talked to her so many times about this, but she insists that can handle this, that’s it’s nothing but a schizophrenic man with delusions.”

“Listen, all we wanna do is talk to her, get her side of the story and see if she wants to file herself.”

“You have to listen to me, she won’t. This guy, he has pictures of her! He waits outside the hospital and takes photos of her. I’ve seen him follow her home before.”

“And has she had any reservations about this?” Andy sighed, pulling at his hair some.

“She doesn’t see anything bad about this, she just brushes it off and says that it happens with the job and to let it slide.” Carisi stood up from his desk, clearing his throat.

“Listen, we’ll take a look, okay? I understand if your friend isn’t willing about coming forward herself. How about this. You give us her first name and the guys full name, and we’ll look into it.” Andy stood up as well, nodding some, producing a folder from his messenger bag.

“I figured that at best.” He gave a folder to Carisi. “This is the guys information and my friends name and picture. Please..I don’t wanna see her get hurt.” Carisi nodded and took the folder, placing it on his desk.

“I’ll see what we can do, okay?” Andy nodded before taking his leave.

Carisi sat back at his desk, opening the folder and leading through it.

“Hey Rollins, come take a look at this.” Rollins looked up from her computer.

“What you got?”

“Just come take a look.” Rollins suppressed an eye roll before she stood up and made her way to his desk, leaning over his side, scanning her eyes over the papers.

“This man sounds like a nutcase.” Rollins started, “diagnosed with schizophrenia at 13, killed his parents at 15 and was sent to a psychiatric hospital based on his mental state.” She looked over at Carisi. “Is this what that guy was talking to you about?” Carisi gave a nod, leaning back in his chair.

“Not sure what we can do about it though, technically she never made a complaint.”

“Can’t hurt to follow up, make sure everything is okay.” Rollins stood up, making her way back to her desk. “Get clearance from Liv and let her make that call.”

“You got it.” Carisi gathered the files and his notepad, making his way to Olivia’s office.

The ER was busy as ever, the constant flow of people kept (y/n)on her feet with no break in sight. Her back was aching, but that was furthest from her mind as she saw one of the receptionists leading two officers to her. She thought nothing of it and kept monitoring her patients. The clearing of a throat broke her train of concentration.

“(Y/n) Koval?” A man spoke, and she turned around to face the two officers she saw entering.

“Yes? Can I help you two?” The shorter of the two spoke up.

“I’m Detective Amanda Rollins and this is my partner Dominick Carisi.”

“We need to ask you a few questions. You have a minute?” (Y/n) glanced around at the busy ER.

“Not really, but if it’s important I can get another nurse down here.”

“Thank you.” Carisi nodded and stepped back with Rollins as (Y/N) made her way to a phone on the wall and made a call. It took a few moments before she can walking back to the two.

“Is this a private matter.” She asked cautiously.

“I’m afraid it is, is there somewhere more quieter we can talk?” She nodded and led the two to an on call room and shut the door behind them.

“Did something happen?” She took a seat on one of the beds, folding her hands in her lap. Rollins and Carisi took a seat across from her on another bed.

“Do you know someone by the name of Dylan Anderson?” Rollins spoke first.

“I do, yes. He was a patient in our psych ward last year.” She paused. “Is this about him?”

“We have a complaint, on your behalf, that he’s been stalking you for over six months.” Rollins continued. (Y/N) heaved a small sigh, shaking her head some.

“Listen, it’s really not what you think. He has schizophrenia, and sometimes he can get too into his head. He’s no harm at all.”

“Well.” Carisi started, “someone thinks that he is harmful, to you at least.” She sighed, leaning back some.

“I can handle myself, thank you Detectives. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Well maybe you can actually. Are you in a relationship by chance? Anyone you’re close with that this guy can potentially go after?” Rollins asked and (Y/N) held back a small laugh.

“Listen, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m in a committed relationship. And trust me, Dylan won’t go after him, he can take care of himself just fine.”

“Can we have his name?” Carisi asked and she was quick to shake her head.

“He has a higher profile job, he doesn’t want our relationship to affect his work. And I’m completely fine with that.” She stood up. “Are we done here? Not to rush you out, but I have a busy ER and we’re understaffed as it is.”

“We understand, sorry for the inconvenience.” Rollins stood up and motioned Carisi to be quiet as he went to speak. “Take care of yourself.” (Y/N) left the room and the two shared a look.

Rollins and Carisi walked back into the precinct, talking over the conversation they had with (Y/N).

“I just don’t get it”, Rollins started “if she knows about his past, why wouldn’t she at least be more helpful? At least file her own complaint.” Carisi nodded along, stopping at the door.

“Maybe she actually believes he’s of no harm to her. I mean, she didn’t even seem concerned.”

“I still don’t get it, though. And the whole relationship thing? Kind of seems like she was lying there.” Carisi gave her a look.

“What makes you think that?”

“No girl wants to be hidden in the shadows, especially in a committed relationship like she said so. So, she’s either lying or the relationship isn’t as committed as she thinks.” The two made their way back into the bullpen, heading towards Olivia’s office to report their findings. Rollins knocked on the door and let herself in, Carisi right behind her. As they entered, they found A.D.A Rafael Barba sitting across from her at Olivia’s desk.

“Rollins, Carisi.” Olivia greeted, nodding to the two. “Howd everything go at the hospital?”

“Not well.” Rollins started, “(Y/N) the nurse, that Andy was worried about, was of no help. She believes that the guy is of no harm to her and can handle herself.” Olivia gave a sigh.

“Well there’s not much we can do there, then.” She paused before continuing. “Have your reports typed up by the end of the day.”

“That’s it? We aren’t gonna talk to the guy, Dylan Anderson?” Carisi spoke up, concern on his face. Olivia gave him a pointed look.

“If this guy is schizophrenic, then his word may not be good.”

“May I ask what this is about?” Barba spoke up, curiosity piquing.

“This nurse is currently being stalked by a prior psych ward patient for over six months, and she believes that he’s no harm.” Carisi spoke up.

“And,” continued Rollins, “her friend slash coworker filed the report, not herself. He really thinks that she’s in trouble and tie guy is dangerous.” Barba nodded in thought, his brows pinching together.

“Talk to the ex patient, see what his standpoint is.” Before Olivia could intervene, he continued. “And if he sounds competent, bring him in. We could have a case here.”

“Even without her filing a complaint?” Rollins raised a brow, arms crossed. “I know you’re the attorney and all, Barba, but this seems pretty useless to me.”

“Won’t be useless if she winds up dead.” He deadpanned, inclining his head to the side some. He stood up, fixing his suit and left the office.

“Well?” Carisi looked at Olivia, “we good to talk to this guy or what?” Olivia thought for a moment and sighed, nodding her head.

“Go, and if he says anything damming bring him in.” The two detectives took their leave, heading back on the streets.

Based on the reports and prior addressed listing Dylan Anderson, the two detectives found themselves standing in front of a shotty, run down apartment complex on the lower side of New York. Carisi was the first to enter the building, taking note of the broken elevator and the dingy interior. No one sat behind the desk and a small fan was buzzing annoyingly on said desk.

“What apartment does he live in?” Carisi asked, looking up the stairs.

“4d.” Replied Rollins, less than enthusiastically. Carisi heaved a sigh before shaking his head, making his way up the stairs with Rollins trailing close behind him.

“What do you think this guys deal is?” Carisi called out behind him.

“No idea, maybe (Y/N) was the first person to show him compassion or kindness and he took it as something else.” Carisi hummed in thought.

“Maybe. Honestly I don’t really know what to make of it all.”

“Guess we won’t know until we see and talk to this guy.”

A few more flights of rickety stairs the duo arrived at apartment 4d. Carisi knocked on the door firmly three times and waited for an answer. Some shuffling could be heard from inside as the door clicked open and a chubby cheeked young adult peeked through the slightly cracked door.

“Hello? Can I help you?” The man spoke in a soft manner, a slight rasp to his words.

“Hey there, we’re from the NYPD. Got a complaint and just checking off our boxes.” Carisi spoke, a tight lipped smile adorning his features. Rollins stood slightly behind him, gauging the man’s reaction. “You are Dylan Anderson, yeah.”

The man nodded, “yes, I am..” he paused. “What complaints are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to nobody.”

“While that may be true, we just have to check, get your side of the story.” Rollins spoke up and the man’s blue eyes shifted to her quickly, looking her up and down in a way that sent shivers up Rollins back. The man had bright blue eyes, but there was a dullness behind them that made Rollins uneasy.

“We just had a few questions about a woman (Y/N) Koval. She’s a registered nurse over at Mercy.” As Carisi said her name, Dylan’s eyes went slightly wide, a small spark coming to light.

“Oh I know who she is, I know her very well.”

“How well do you know her.” Rollins pressed on, flipping open her notepad and jotting down notes.

“She’s my girlfriend.” He spoke with such a casual tone that it caught the duo off guard.

“You two are together? She didn’t mention that part.” Carisi said, confusion lining his words.

“Well of course she didn’t, technically she’s not supposed to date me because I was a patient under her care.” He continued, opening the door more. Rollins casually looked into his apartment and saw the living space to be very clean with a few scatterings of magazines, books and photo albums lying on the coffee table and floor. “But she couldn’t resist, we’ve been together for two years now.” He sighed wistfully. Carisi glanced at Rollins briefly, not believing this guys story.

“Well if you don’t mind, we’d like to come inside and talk more privately.” Carisi said and Dylan hesitated for a moment before nodding, opening the door more and letting the detectives in. The two walked in and Rollins continued her observation of the small apartment, noticing how there were pictures hung up all over the place of (Y/N), but none of them had the two together. It was only (Y/N).

“What else would you like to know?” Dylan asked, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for the two to take a seat on the two armchairs. Carisi sat down while Rollins declined, instead she kept looking over at the pictures.

“For someone in a two year relationship, you guys don’t have any pictures together, why is that?” She asked, looking over at him. Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly before smiling some.

“She’s very busy, you know? I’ll take whatever pictures I can get of her. With or without me in them.” Dylan said, a bit too smugly for her liking.

“Anyways.” Carisi started, giving Rollins a look. “We’d just like to know why someone would report that you’re stalking Miss. Koval?”

“Well that’s easy; jealously.” Dylan said confidently. “Whoever accused me of that is obviously jealous of our relationship.” He crossed his arms and lent back into the cushions.

“Right.” Carisi stated.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Dylan became defensive, leaning forward now and glaring at Carisi. He held his hands up defensively.

“I’m not saying that, Mr. Anderson. I’m just trying to figure out both sides.” Dylan stood up to his full height, easily towering over Carisi as he also stood up.

“I’d like you two to leave now. I don’t like your questions.” Rollins immediately came over to Carisi’s side, the tone of Dylan’s voice concerning her.

“You’re right, we’re sorry to bother you about this, Mr. Anderson.” Rollins quickly blurted out and left with Carisi, Dylan following after them and slamming the door closed.

“He seemed a little defensive about their ‘relationship’.” Rollins stated as they made their way back down the stairs.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Well let’s head back and let Liv know.” Rollins said, slipping her notepad into her pocket.

Back at the precinct, Rollins and Carisi stood across from Benson in her office.

“So what I’m hearing is that this guy believes he’s in a relationship with Ms. Koval? And has multiple photos of her alone all over the apartment?” Benson said, glasses off, chewing on the end of the arm in thought.

“You should’ve seen him, he became so defensive when we told him that someone believes he’s stalking her.” Rollins said. “Like he couldn’t believe that someone would accuse him of that.”

“And you said that her partner holds a high profile position. Could she be lying to hide the fact that she’s with a prior patient?”

“I don’t know, Liv. The bracelet that (Y/N) had on was an expensive brand, not something that Dylan could afford looking at his housing situation. Not to mention she had a matching necklace.” Rollins continued.

“Maybe Liv is right.” Carisi interrupted, causing Rollins to shoot him an incredulous look.

“Do you hear yourself? There’s no way that type of woman is with that man.”

“Alright let’s settle down.” Benson spoke up, standing up from her desk and putting her glasses back on. “Talk to the friend again, who filed the complaint on her behalf and see what he knows about Ms. Koval’s partner.” At that, Benson dismissed her two detectives and they went back to the hospital to ask questions to Andy Novak.

The end of the day drew nearer than anybody else thought. Rollins and Carisi spent their day asking questions to Mr. Novak and other co workers who knew Ms. Koval on a more personal level and they were no more closer to finding out anything about Ms. Kovals personal life than the initial complaint filed. Rollins sat down at her desk, exhausted at all the questions asked and no viable answer given. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her face. Carisi was in no better shape, wheeling his chair over to her desk to sit closer.

“What a shit show. How can you work with someone and not know anything about their life?” Carisi said aloud, not expecting Rollins to answer.

“Look at Barba. We’ve been working with him for almost two years and we barely know anything about him.”

“Yeah.” He scoffed. “As if that man actually has a personal life. I swear he lives in that office.” Rollins let out a chuckle at that, her smile contagious to Carisi who smiled back earnestly. Speaking of said man, Barba walked into the precinct, heading towards Bensons office but stopped as he saw the duo at Rollins desk.

“Hey.” He nodded. “Any leads on that guy, Dylan?”

“No, but the woman who he’s supposedly stalking tells no one about her personal life. So we have no idea if he’s telling the truth.” Carisi said, a tired expression on his face.

“Sounds frustrating. Did you try talking with the woman again?”

“(Y/N) Koval?” Rollins raised an eyebrow, giving an eye roll. “She’s not giving us anything, she’s one of the most unhelpful persons I’ve ever questioned.” At the name, Barba tensed slightly. It would’ve been unnoticed by anyone but to the detectives, it didn’t go by unseen.

“Maybe it’s a loss cause.” He said flatly, continuing his way to Bensons office. As soon as he left the bullpen, Rollins turned to Carisi.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?” Rollins rolled her eyes and slapped his arm.

“When I said her name, he had a reaction. Like he knows this girl.”

“Oh come on, Rollins, you’re reading too much into it.”

“Hey Counsellor!” Carisi called out, his jolly demeaner only serving to make Rafael more despondent. Amaro nodded but said nothing.

“Glad to see you working hard on this case Detectives” he said, his words dripping in sarcasm. Carisi’s smile fell, Amaro scoffed.

“Really Barba? Some of us didn’t get to go home to our fancy appartement for our beauty sleep, okay? So, save it, we’re doing what we can with what we have. Nice of you to finally show up though.” He snapped back. Rafael felt a hot flush creeping up his neck. Now was not the time to start a fight, no matter how sour his mood.

“And what do you have exactly? The DA wants answers ASAP.”

“Well actually, we got something that might be interesting.” Carisi chimed in, Rafael quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Yeah, Sarge was gonna call you any second. She wants you to sit in.”

“A journalist.” Nick added. ‘Amazing’ Rafael thought to himself. Journalists, one of his least favourite groups of people. Always there, twisting facts into sensationalist stories. Anything to make money. He loathed the swarm of them that would linger on the courthouse steps, waiting like vultures for their next fix.

“A journalist?”

“Yeah, she called last night, said she had information.” Nick replied.

“Right. And what information did she have exactly?”

“Well, that’s just it, we don’t know, whatever it is she wouldn’t say over the phone. She seemed… Reluctant. She’s supposed to be here soon, so I guess we’ll find out then.” He shrugged, looking up and down the street, his gaze stopping suddenly. Rafael and Carisi both turned their heads in the direction he was staring.

“You think that’s her?” Carisi asked.

Over the road, a little up the way, a young woman was stood alone. She looked to be in her late twenties, her hair was loose around her shoulders and her expression looked drawn, nervous almost. On her shoulder was a tote bag which looked full to the brim with files and papers. She took a drag of a cigarette as she stared at the entrance to the 16th precinct. Her face was a warzone of emotions. Whoever she was, she was certainly conflicted about something.

…

You had barely slept. Normally, you could at least salvage three or four hours a night. But sleep had evaded you completely that evening. You felt sick to your stomach, experiencing the full range of human emotion. Guilt, for betraying the victims. Anger, that it was necessary. Sadness, at the suffering of these women. Determination, in finding justice. The list went on. You couldn’t shake the picture of Gemma out of your mind. Your skin prickled in the heat, sweat beading on your skin. You sat up in bed, breathing heavily, wanting to scream or hit something or throw up. Instead, you pulled on a pair of shorts, rifled through your draw until you found what you wanted and headed to the fire escape.

 You knew smoking was a terrible habit, something you only indulged in when drunk and partying in college. And then when the partying died down and drinking was something you did at home, alone, something you only indulged in when the stress of life became too much. But you needed to relax. There was no backing down now. You’d given the police officer on the phone your name, they had your number, and you were scheduled to speak to a detective at 10am the next morning.

The metal steps were warm underneath you; smoke swirled around you. ‘This is the right thing to do’ you told yourself over and over, as if hearing it enough times would soothe the tension in your heart. You sat for hours, until the sky brightened from black to an angry purple and then forced yourself to stand, head back inside and prepare yourself.

…

At 9:45am, you had made it to the address Valerie had given to you. You could feel your legs trembling as you stared at the entrance just across the street from you. The air was charged, anxiety was swelling up again, bursting at the seams, your stomach ached violently. You had lit up again, trying desperately to calm yourself and thinking bitterly that the girls would never forgive you for this, that you were victimising them all over again; but justice was never black and white, and the burden of responsibility was a heavy weight to carry. You took a long drag and then, steeling yourself, placed one foot in front of the other until you were at the steps.

“(y/f/n)?” A voice called out to you abruptly. You turned, finding the voices owner, a tall man, well built with deep brown eyes. A police badge was resting on his hip. There was absolutely no turning back now.

“That’s me.” You said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He tilted his head slightly as you stared each other down. Two other men stood either side of him. A lanky man with a puppyish expression and severely gelled hair and a shorter man, dressed in a well-tailored three-piece suit. “Do the SVU always have a welcoming party like this, or am I just special?” You blurted out, fighting the shrinking feeling you had as they moved closer to you. Gelled hair snorted at that and reached out a hand, which you took, trying to keep a firm grip.

“I’m detective Carisi, but you can call me Sonny, everyone does-“

“No one calls him Sonny.” The original detective cut in. “I’m Detective Nick Amaro and this is our ADA Rafael Barba.” Three-piece suit gave you a curt nod. “Here, let us show you in.” He gestured up the stairs.

…

You were led into a wide room with multiple desks, all a mess of files and half empty coffee cups. Gemma Belmont’s face stared down on you from a white board, and you felt the anxiety, strangely, melt away. Replaced by the righteous determination that had brought you here in the first place. Detective Amaro followed your gaze and laid a hand gently on your arm.

“Did you know her?” He probed, softly, his face a plain of sympathy. You shook your head slowly. He tilted his head again and you could tell he was trying to size you up. He changed tactics. “I’ll take you to the interview room, so you can get comfortable. Do you drink coffee?”

“I’ll just take a water if that’s okay?” The last thing you needed was the jittery rush of caffeine in your system. He nodded and took you to a smaller room, just off to the side, gesturing to a chair and left to grab your drink. Before he closed the door he turned and said, “I’ll let the Sargent know you’re here, she won’t be long.” You only smiled in response.

…

No more than ten minutes passed, before the door was opening again, you turned from your research, which you had laid out in front of you to see the Detective from the news appeal, Olivia Benson and the ADA you had briefly been introduced to.

“Good morning, thankyou for coming in Miss (y/l/n).” She placed a bottle of water down in front of you and then took a seat across from you, ADA Barba took the seat in between and nodded at you again. “I’m Sargent Olivia Benson and this is ADA Rafael Barba.” She began.

“We’ve already met.” You cut in, she nodded, sizing you up in the way Amara had. ‘Maybe it’s a detective thing’ you mused.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” Barba started, already looking bored. You felt a flicker of displeasure, you were here trying to help, the least he could do was pretend to be interested, right? Detective Benson shot him a look, as if telling him to play nice.

“You told one of our officers that you had information about Gemma Belmont?” She said, eyeing the papers on the table. You sighed, searching for the words.

“Not about Gemma exactly…” ADA Barba rolled his eyes, the frustration radiating off him was palpable, stoking the flicker into a flame. “Look, this was a mistake, clearly you aren’t interested in what I have to say, I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You snapped, glaring at him. You pushed your chair back and made to rise before Detective Benson threw her hands up in surrender.

“Please, we do want to speak with you. I apologise for my colleague; it’s been a very stressful couple of days. Barba, outside please?” They both stood, heading for the door, “We’ll just be a moment, please just hang on.” She pleaded; you folded your arms and looked down at the research in front of you. Why did you think trusting the NYPD was a good idea? Just as you were starting to gather up the files in front of you, Detectives Benson and Amaro re-entered, you paused, looking up at them.

Benson sighed, “I’m really sorry about that.” She smiled apologetically and sat facing you again, “Why don’t we start over?”   

…

You sat with them for three hours, explaining in detail what you knew. Eleven victims in total, all assaulted with the same MO. You laid out victim statements, six of them had rape kits done, including the first two which showed no evidence of drugs in their systems, but they swore that they must have been drugged – your working theory was that it was probably something like DMT or perhaps a new drug circulating on the streets. You had made up a timeline of events, mapped out every location in which the assaults happened, nine of which happened in the meat packing district. One bar in particular seemed to be a hotspot you explained, with three of the assaults taking place in a bar called the Lucky Cat.

“Help me understand.” Amaro asked at one point, “Why is a journalist all of a sudden moonlighting as a private investigator?” You met his eyes and sighed.

“First of all, I’m an investigative journalist, freelance. Second, I originally looked into this as a story on NYPD incompetence or ignorance, or both I guess.” Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “The first two victims, Bailey Teller and Lianne Saft, my source told me how they were turned away. It’s no secret that reporting a rape is an uphill battle, it’s pretty much the only crime were the victim has the burden of proving that it actually happened.” She smiled then and shot her partner a look.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that, but why didn’t you come forward sooner?” You couldn’t meet her eyes, the familiar nausea rearing its ugly head. You felt the warmth reaching your cheeks. “They don’t know that you’re here, do they?” Benson shuffled about with the papers as she stared you down.

“I tried…” You started, “But these girls… What’s worse do you think? The assault or being blamed for it after? They don’t trust the police and I don’t blame them, hell, I’m not even a victim and I don’t trust you. But when I heard about Gemma…” She reached a hand out and placed it on top of your own.

“You’re doing the right thing, thankyou for bringing this to our attention, if you’ll just excuse us for a moment.” Benson and Amaro stood and left the room, you let out a shaky breath.

…

When she came back to the room, the ADA was with her again, his expression was less bored now though. Replaced by something else, which you couldn’t put your finger on. Respect maybe?

“Miss (y/l/n), thankyou for bringing this information to our attention. You have done a valuable service to the city; it’s in the DA’s interest to open an official investigation.” He offered you a stern smile. “We’ll need everything you’ve compiled and the contact information of all the alleged victims.” You nodded, taking the pen and paper, he offered you and began writing. Benson started gathering up all your research. You handed the paper to her and stood.

“So what happens now?” You asked.

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” She replied, offering you another smile but your expression had dropped.

“What? So that’s it?” Your temper was rising. Benson was at a loss for words, Barba on the other hand had turned on you and was frowning.

“Yes? Is there a problem?” You stood up straighter.

“Yes, there’s a problem!” You snapped, “You need to keep me in the loop.” He scoffed at you.

“This is official police business now, we thank you for your work but what did you expect? That you could tag along as part of this investigation? You’re just a journalist.” You folded your arms across your chest protectively. Fucking NYPD.

“These women trust me! You would never have known about this without me, I’ve spent months-“

“Miss (y/l/n), this doesn’t concern you anymore, let us do our job.” You laughed bitterly.

“None of this would’ve happened in the first place if you just ‘did your job’ right in the first place!” You snatched up your tote bag from were it sat on the floor and pushed past him, papers fluttering in your wake. People’s heads shot up as you stormed out of the building, muttering expletives under your breath. ADA Rafael Barba, this was New Yorks finest?

…

“Well, she’s a ray of sunshine.” Rafael tsked, watching you march out of the precinct. Olivia sighed.

“Would it hurt you to not be an asshole for once?” He turned and grinned at her.

“Me? An asshole? You’re too kind.” She rolled her eyes in response.

…

Freshly showered with a steaming mug in your hands, your head shot up as your cell began to ring. You had barely answered when a familiar voice started talking.

“I’ve got something for you. Thought you’d like to know before it hits the news, I’m outside”

“Good morning to you too”

“Sorry, I know it’s early, but this is major. Look, I can’t hang around long, do you want to hear it or not?”

You were already stumbling into a pair of yoga pants and sneakers, “Give me two minutes”

…

Leaning against the wall of your building, a women stood waiting, two to go coffee cups in her hands. Valerie, a petite brunette in her mid-thirties who worked administration for one of the local NYPD precincts. But she had also become a reliable source, in fact, she was the person who had opened this case up to you in the first place. She handed one of the cups to you.

“Walk and talk?” Valerie asked, glancing around.

“Yeah, lead the way”

“How are you doing? You look… tired.” Her eyebrows knitted together in concern as she glanced over at you.

“Never better”

“(y/n) if this case is getting too much… You don’t need to do this” you sighed, tucked your still damp hair behind your ear.

“Someone needs to, being tired is nothing, I’m giving these girls something at least, it’s more than what your lot are doing anyway.” You retorted, feeling the familiar twist in your gut at the thought of the nearly a dozen girls who you’d spoken to, who had experienced possibly the worst night of their lives, only to be revictimized by the ignorance of the police sworn to protect them in the first place. Valerie held up her hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry, I’m just… I never thought this would get so out of hand.”

“ I know you didn’t come all the way to my place for a welfare check” You cut in, “What’s this major development you needed to tell me of at half 7 in the morning?” The pair of you had walked into central park and it was here Valerie stopped, sitting on a bench tucked into a corner. You sat beside her, letting the sunlight kiss your face. She was quiet for a moment, as a dog walker passed by.

“It was bound to happen.” She started weakly; you didn’t interrupt. “If your theory is right, that this isn’t some coincidence… They found a girl this morning, just turned 21.” She paused again and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. “She was spiked and assaulted, but something went wrong, bad reaction to whatever she was drugged with, I think. I don’t know too much, they’ve closed ranks, no information in or out. Apart from this. I heard her mom works in the mayor’s office and that the case is being taken over by SVU, top priority.”

“I don’t understand,” you looked over at her, “why are you telling me this? It’s being investigated, you came to tell me the police are doing their jobs for once?”

“No, I came to ask you to speak to them.” You let out a sharp exhale.

“Excuse me?” You could feel the heat rising in your face.

“These guys are different! They specialise in these cases (y/n), look you and me both know that there is something bigger going on here, whoever this guy is, he’s going to keep doing this until he’s stopped, with all the stuff you’ve found, he could go away for a long time, for the rest of his life!”

You tried to calm your breathing. You knew she was right. When Valerie had first reached out to you there had only been two women, spiked (with an untraceable drug) and then raped. Both had been turned away from the police, who’d assumed that it was morning after regret. Exacerbated by the lack of physical evidence and the girls (understandably) spotty memory. But their statements had been similar, so similar in fact that it was suspicious, to Valerie at least and then to you. So, you reached out, held their hands as they recounted what had happened to them, wiped their tears when it became too much. Two girls became three, then six, then eleven. All failed by their local precincts. At first, you’d thought it might be a coincidence, something to be said about rape culture in general, but over time your theory had changed, with an ever-growing concern that there was potentially a serial rapist working the club scene in Manhattan. Of course, at that point you had wanted to go to the police, they would ignore individual cases but how could they ignore this? But the women were reluctant, they were trying to move on, left to navigate the trauma of being assaulted and then swept to the side. So, you had kept your cards close to your chest, unwilling to break their trust in you.

“You know I can’t do that; it would be a betrayal.” You finally replied, quietly.

“A woman has died (y/n). I can’t imagine the pain they must be going through, but this has gone too far. At least think about it, please? Here” She took out a diary and scribbled down an address and a phone number. “They work out of the 16th precinct, I know the NYPD has a lot to answer for, why do you think I came to you in the first place? If it didn’t mean I’d lose my job, I’d do it myself... Look, I gotta go, see your around (y/n)” You watched her back as she walked away from you, the needling pressure of a headache pressing at your temples.

…

Back at your apartment, later that evening, you settled down on your couch. The room smelled fresh, and a light breeze came in through the window. Valerie has been right about one thing; you were so tired. So, when you returned from your rendezvous you had resolved to put the case out of your mind or at least try to for the day. You had been free falling in the darkness of it all, sleeping poorly, surviving off instant ramen, caffeine and pure willpower.

You had taken the time to organise your research, cleaned away the trash and dirty laundry, filled your sad little fridge with actual fruit and vegetables. Your spirits were slightly raised, even if your earlier conversation with Valerie kept repeating in the back of your mind. You mindlessly channel surfed looking for something to properly distract you when you landed on the news at six. You were about to click away when the screen shifted, and a picture of a young woman appeared on the screen.

 “ In other news, a twenty-one-year-old woman was found deceased during the early hours of the morning. The victim who has been named as Gemma Belmont was found near popular nightclub ‘The velvet room’ in the meat packing district, where she was reported to be celebrating her 21st birthday. Her mother, Louise Belmont, an assistant at the mayor’s office is campaigning with Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit for any information the public may have about Gemma and the events leading up to her death. We go now to our special correspondent Jeff Neeley.”

Your stomach dropped, her picture staring back at you. Gemma Belmont. Twenty-One. Killed for the crime of simply being a woman, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. She was smiling brilliantly in the photo, eyes twinkling, all that life snuffed out. Gone. For what? Your heart thundered and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears, the sting of unshed tears in your eyes.

“Good evening. I’m Jeff Neeley and I’m coming to you live from One police plaza, in just a moment we’ll be hearing from the victim’s mother Louise Belmont and Sargeant Olivia Benson of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, in fact I think it’s starting now.” The camera panned to the stage, an older woman, with grey streaked hair and wretched expression shuffled up to the lectern closely followed by another women, younger with brown shoulder length hair and a badge clipped to her belt. She held a reassuring hand on the shoulder of her senior and began speaking.

“Good evening, everybody, I’m Sargeant Olivia Benson and I’m the lead investigator on this case. As you all know, Gemma Belmont, a bright young woman was unfortunately found deceased in the early hours of the morning. We are treating this death as suspicious and we are appealing to the public, please, if you were in and around the area of ‘the velvet room’ nightclub last night and have any information, to come forward.” At that moment, Mrs Belmont began sobbing hysterically, clinging to the Sargeant for support. You couldn’t watch any longer, frantically reaching for the remote. Your tear-streaked face stared back at you from the now dark screen.

“FUCK” You shouted, throwing the controller across the room. Your eyes travelled to the stack of folders sat on the table in the corner of the room. Perched neatly on top was the scrap of paper that Valerie had passed you earlier that day. You stared at it for a long time before shouting another expletive, picking up you phone and dialling. The phone rung once, twice, three times. You nearly hung up when the line clicked and a mans voice started speaking.

He lowered his hand, tilted his head just enough to be insufferable, and offered a smirk that could've been patented for charm and irritation. “Only when you’re not interrupting my rhythm, Counsellor.”

“Must be easy to lose rhythm when your argument’s off-beat,” you replied sweetly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Counselors,” Judge Petrovsky interjected with a long-suffering sigh. She leaned forward with that look only seasoned judges had — the one that read, You’re both brilliant, and you’re both exhausting me. “This isn’t a tango, people. Proceed.”

You inclined your head with mock humility, stepping back as if giving Rafael the floor. He gave you a slight nod in return, that unspoken acknowledgment — we’ll pick this up later.

You both had reputations. Barba was the firebrand ADA with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind — the kind who could slice through witness testimony like a scalpel. You were the strategic one, surgical with your words, careful with your emotions. If he was heat, you were control. And in that courtroom, your styles collided with sparks.

The witness fumbled under Barba’s cross, then tried to steady himself under your redirect. The jury shifted in their seats. The gallery whispered. And when closing arguments came around, you both danced that final, devastating duet. He was eloquent. You were brutal. The jury took hours to decide. The tension lingered even after the gavel struck finality.

But it wasn’t courtroom tension anymore.

No.

Something else had taken root.

The early evening air was crisp when you stepped out of the courthouse. You paused at the top of the stairs, feeling the weight of the day finally begin to slip from your shoulders. The sun was low, painting the city in streaks of gold and fire. Horns blared distantly, and the sidewalk bustled with late commuters and lingering court staff. You were reaching for your phone to call a car when a familiar voice floated up from the steps below.

“You owe me a drink.”

You turned, already smiling. Rafael Barba stood a few steps down, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease, the ghost of a smirk curving his lips.

“I believe I earned it, Counsellor,” he added, eyes glinting beneath the fading sunlight.

You walked down the steps to meet him, raising an eyebrow. “Earned is a generous word.”

He feigned offense, hand to his chest. “Objection. That’s slanderous.”

“Overruled,” you said, brushing past him with a playful smirk. “I let you have that one. Consider it an act of mercy.”

He chuckled, the sound deeper than his usual courtroom laugh — unguarded, real. “Mercy. Right. I should thank you then. Preferably with bourbon.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “The place on 7th still open?”

“Unless it’s collapsed under the weight of prosecutorial egos,” he said dryly.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Careful, Counsellor. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He tilted his head, smile widening. “Would that be out of order?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “Come on, Barba. Let’s go before you start quoting case law at me.”

“Oh, I brought case law,” he replied smoothly, falling into step beside you. “But I thought I’d wait until the second drink.”

You snorted. “Charming.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “So they tell me.”

The bar on 7th was the kind of place that didn’t need to advertise. Nestled between a pawn shop and a closed-down theatre with a flickering marquee, it looked unassuming from the outside. But the moment you stepped through the door, the world shifted. It was dim and warm, the air touched with the scent of old whiskey, polished wood, and the faintest trail of cologne from the man beside you.

Inside, the lighting was low, golden. Vintage sconces cast pools of light along worn brick walls. The booths were high-backed and made of old leather that groaned when you sat, and the bar itself—mahogany, rich and dark—had been polished by time and elbows, the kind of place with history layered into every groove.

Soft jazz drifted from a record player in the corner. Not a playlist. Not a DJ. A record player. Real vinyl. It suited the place. Intimate. Timeless. Quiet enough for conversation but loud enough to hide the sound of hearts picking up speed.

As you stepped inside, Barba didn’t even have to approach the counter. The bartender looked up from rinsing glasses and gave him a familiar nod.

“Regular?” the bartender asked, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll take two,” Barba said, then turned to glance your way. “Neat, right?”

You nodded once, surprised but a little impressed that he remembered your preference from some office mixer two years ago—one of those tedious events you both spent in the corner dissecting appellate court rulings like it was foreplay.

You slid into a booth tucked in the back, sinking into the cool leather and exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding since you stepped out of the courthouse. With a relieved groan, you kicked off your heels beneath the table, letting your sore feet rest against the polished floor. Your blazer came off next, folded neatly and draped over the edge of the booth, revealing the sleeveless black blouse you’d worn beneath. Practical. Elegant. Tactical.

Barba joined you a moment later, setting your glass down with that same courtroom precision he used when presenting evidence—deliberate, exact. His jacket remained on, but his tie had been loosened and the first button of his shirt undone. Still composed, still sharp, but something in his posture had softened. Like he’d shed the weight of the job—if only a little.

He lifted his glass.

“To mutual respect,” you offered, voice low, the glass cool in your fingers as you tapped it to his.

“To formidable opponents,” he replied, and there it was again—that glint in his eye, a flash of something sharper than amusement. Admiration, maybe. Or interest. Possibly both.

You took a slow sip. Bourbon, rich and smooth, warmed your throat. You tilted your head as you studied him. “You mean to worthy distractions.”

He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that rumbled low in his chest. “Touché.”

The moment stretched, but it didn’t strain. There was no courtroom to impress. No judge watching. Just the two of you and the low thrum of music and the sharp scent of aged oak from the bar.

“You’re not used to being challenged,” you observed, the words falling somewhere between curiosity and flirtation.

Barba didn’t answer right away. He swirled the bourbon in his glass, gaze lingering on the amber liquid before lifting to meet yours. “I enjoy being challenged,” he said, voice slower now, heavier. “Especially when the challenger knows what she’s doing.”

You raised a brow. “Is that respect I hear, Counsellor Barba?”

He smirked—subtle, but unmistakable—as he leaned in, elbows resting on the table, fingers lightly tapping his glass.

“Please. Outside the courtroom,” he said, voice dropping just slightly, “it’s Rafael. Only colleagues call me Barba. Or Counselor.”

You tilted your head, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Oh? And what does that make me, then?”

His eyes gleamed. “Dangerously close to neither.”

You let out a quiet laugh, sipping your drink. “Careful, Rafael. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He grinned, leaning back slowly with that infuriating, self-satisfied ease. “Only almost?”

You blinked, amused. “So Rafael it is, huh?”

“You've earned it,” he replied smoothly.

“I’ll let you have it,” you countered, lips curving in a faint smile. “But if we’re keeping it fair, you can drop the ‘Counselor’ too. Y/N is fine”

He leaned in just a fraction more, head tilted, voice quiet. “Oh, but I like calling you that.”

There was a pause. Not the kind that begged to be filled, but the kind that hung, heavy and electric. You stared at each other across the small distance, and something buzzed at the edges of your skin.

You set your glass down with a quiet clink and met his gaze evenly. “Flattery? So soon?”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

You considered him for a long moment. The Rafael Barba you’d heard about—the biting cross-examiner, the iron spine in court—was all real. But here, under the golden lights, with a whiskey in hand and no one to perform for, you were starting to see the edges of something more. Tired eyes that still sparkled with sharp intellect. Hands that had gestured with precision now resting, relaxed, on the table.

“You know,” he said, voice dipping lower, more intimate now, “next time we’re on opposite sides…I won’t go easy on you.”

You let that sink in. “Good,” you said finally, and your voice was just as soft. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

Barba sat back, watching you with an expression that bordered on admiration. Then, his eyes drifted toward the bar.

“Another drink?”

You tilted your head, giving him a playful look over the rim of your glass. “So tell me, Rafael… is this your strategy now? Get me tipsy and hope I let my guard down?”

He smirked, already rising to his feet with a slow, deliberate stretch. “Only if it works.”

You narrowed your eyes, amused. “Fine. But behave at the bar. No charming the bartender for extra drinks while you’re up there.”

He stood with a slow, deliberate stretch, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and smoothing his tie with one practiced motion. “No promises, Counselor.”

“I thought we retired that title for the evening.”

“Old habits,” he said, offering you a wink before turning away.

You watched him walk to the bar, taking in the way the light cast across his shoulders, the sharp cut of his suit, the confidence in his stride. He greeted the bartender with a few quiet words, resting one hand casually against the bar as he waited.

He looked back once. Not to check on the drinks. To check on you. And your heart—traitorous, eager—skipped in response. You sat back, running your fingers lightly around the rim of your glass, a soft smile ghosting across your lips.

Rafael

Not Barba. Not just Counsellor.

Rafael

_ _ _

It started with a knock. Not the kind the plainclothes officer gave when checking in - those knocks were routine, casual, almost apologetic. This one was different. Precise. Deliberate. Two slow raps, a pause, then one softer. Like someone was saying a name they expected you to recognize.

I was still in the bathroom, letting the hot shower bleed away the unease I hadn’t admitted to Rafael, steam curling against the mirror, the rhythm of the water masking everything beyond the door.

But Rafael was in the kitchen. I’d seen him moments before, rinsing out his mug with one hand, his other resting on the counter as he stared out the window, eyes distant in that way he got when the lawyer mind took over, when he was assembling arguments no one would ever hear.

I didn’t hear the knock. Not over the water.

But he did.

Later, I would replay it in my head: the way he stilled, the way the air around him seemed to shift from ordinary to electric. The mug slipped just slightly in his hand. He set it down, reached for his phone, and checked the hallway camera. I found out all of this later: in fragments, in confessions, in the way his voice shook when he told me what happened.

The camera showed nothing. No one. That was the first red flag.

The second was me in the shower, unaware. And Alfi sleeping peacefully down the hall, his cheeks still sticky with syrup from the morning’s pancakes, his tiny limbs sprawled over Rafael’s side of the bed like he’d claimed it in his dreams.

Rafael moved to the door like a shadow. Quiet. Controlled. I imagined his fingers brushing the chain lock, the quick glance through the peephole. And then, the door opened - just a sliver. That’s when the voice came.

— Counselor - just one word. And everything in our world tilted.

Rafael told me later his breath froze in his chest. That every courtroom, every sentence, every piece of legal armor he’d ever wrapped around himself burned away in that second.

Because outside our safehouse door stood Santiago Navarro. Unarmed. Calm. Dressed in black, his coat unbuttoned, hands visible. He didn’t need a weapon. His smile was enough. Cold. Triumphant.

— You should close the door - Navarro murmured — Before the wind disturbs your family.

Rafael’s grip on the door must’ve tightened. I could feel it even now, like I’d lived it. His pulse, staccato and hot. His mind, calculating threats and exits at once.

— You have five seconds - he said, voice quiet but lethal — To disappear before the NYPD tears this block apart.

Navarro’s smile deepened, like someone humoring a child.

— If they were going to stop me, Rafael, they would have done it by now - and still, I didn’t know. Still, I was in the shower. Still, I was vulnerable.

That’s what broke Rafael. Not the threat - the proximity. The fact that Navarro was this close to me. To Alfi. To everything we had dared to call ours.

Rafael stepped out, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. Containment. Isolation.

He told the officer stationed at the end of the hall to stay put - that he would handle it. The man hesitated, clearly uneasy, but obeyed. That was the danger of Rafael Barba. Even when he was unraveling, he wore command like a second skin.

Navarro leaned against the stairwell railing, as if this were a meeting of old friends.

— You look older - he said first.

— You look smaller - Rafael didn’t blink. But That earned a smirk from Navarro.

— Prison does that.

Rafael didn’t engage. He didn’t feed Navarro the satisfaction of a shared memory.

— What do you want?

— I want you to understand something - Navarro said slowly — This isn’t about hurting your child. Not really. I’m not that kind of man.

— You lost the right to say that - Rafael replied, low and sharp — When you trafficked children like they were real estate.

Navarro waved it off, as if human suffering were an inconvenience.

— This isn’t revenge. It’s reckoning. A balance. You got out clean, Rafael. Most of us don’t.

— If you come near my son again… - Rafael's voice was like ice melting against flame.

— I already did - Navarro said casually.

That did it. Rafael stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides.

— What did you say?

— I didn’t touch him - Navarro said, hands up like a peace offering — I didn’t have to. You felt it. That helplessness. That fear. You’re a father now. You finally know what it’s like to have something to lose.

And Rafael told me: this was when he stopped feeling fear. What replaced it wasn’t calm. It was something much more dangerous: clarity.

— You built this family on broken glass. One stone shifts and the whole thing comes down - Navarro kept talking.

— You came here to threaten me?

— No. I came to offer you a deal - Rafael laughed. Cold. Joyless.

— You think I’d bargain with filth like you?

— Take your family. Leave this behind. Don’t pursue me. Don’t testify. Don’t play the hero. And in return? You disappear. No more surveillance. No more threats. Freedom - Rafael stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe the audacity of it.

— You want me to stop fighting?

— Yes - Navarro said, smug - Because deep down, you know men like me always win.

And then Rafael moved. No warning. No hesitation. He slammed Navarro against the hallway wall, his forearm across the man’s throat. There was a sound, a harsh scrape of impact. He held him there, not with brute strength, but with the fury of a man who’d already lost too much to lose again.

— I’m not the boy from twenty years ago - he said, voice low and lethal — I’m not the man who walked away from the woman he loved. And I’m not the father who hides while cowards stalk my child.

Navarro choked slightly, still smiling.

— You may be the monster behind the curtain - Rafael said, pressing harder — But I am the man who sets fire to your world and watches it burn.

— Then we’ll burn together - Navarro gasped, wheezing. Rafael released him with one final shove.

— Next time I see you - he said, straightening - You’ll be in handcuffs. Or a body bag.

Navarro adjusted his coat like nothing had happened.

— We’ll see - and then he vanished down the stairwell.

I came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around me, still drying my hair. I saw it instantly - the way Rafael stood near the door, his hands shaking, his shoulders too tense.

— Did someone knock? - I asked. He didn’t answer right away. Something inside me turned cold. I crossed the room in two steps and pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was racing — Who was it?

His eyes found mine. And they were hollow. Wrecked.

— Navarro - he said. My stomach dropped.

— What?

— He was here - his voice was barely a whisper, like if he spoke it too loud, it would make it real again.

— Rafael…

— I let him walk away - he said, staring through me — Because I need him to believe he’s still in control.

My fingers curled into his shirt. He was shaking. I’d never seen him shake.

— I can’t lose you - he whispered. I reached up and kissed him: not gently, not sweetly. Desperately. With every ounce of fear and love I had.

— You won’t - I whispered into his lips — Not now. Not ever.

We didn’t talk much after that. There were no more arguments, no more plans. No war room strategies or legal what-ifs. Just two people clinging to each other like driftwood in a storm.

Rafael pulled me into bed like he was afraid I might vanish. His hands trembled at first, skimming my skin with reverence, with guilt. But I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.

We made love like people who didn’t know if there’d be a tomorrow. Like people who had run out of chances and were stealing one more anyway.

He kissed every part of me like it mattered. Like it had to. My collarbone. The inside of my wrist. The hollow of my hip. His hands moved over me like he was trying to memorize the way I felt before it could all be taken away.

— Stay with me - I whispered.

— I’m not going anywhere - his voice cracked.

At 2:11 a.m., in another part of the city, Captain Olivia Benson sat up in bed, her phone buzzing sharply beside her. A video. No audio. Just security footage. Grainy. Dark.

It showed Rafael Barba in the hallway. Navarro in front of him. The subject line read:
«Tick, tick, Counselor»

Olivia’s face went still. She picked up the phone.

— Get eyes on the safehouse. Now.

the door slammed shut behind you with a force that shook the floor. you barely had time to turn around before elijah was on you — a blur of motion, hands gripping your arms, slamming your back against the hallway wall.

“you’re unbelievable,” he snarled, his face only inches from yours. “do you have any idea what you’ve done?” you stared up at him, breathless, caught in the storm of his fury.

“elijah—”

“no.” his grip tightened. “don’t say my name like that. not when you almost got yourself killed tonight.”

you opened your mouth, but he pressed a hand over it — not harsh, just enough to stop you. his eyes were wild, jaw clenched so hard you thought it might snap. he was still in the suit he’d worn to the “meeting” — the one you crashed by following him against his explicit order. you hadn’t known it would be an ambush. you only wanted to help. but help, in elijah’s mind, didn’t come from reckless self-sacrifice.

“i told you to stay home,” he said, voice lower now, more dangerous. “and you disobeyed me. you endangered yourself. you distracted me.”you shivered beneath him, your skin prickling with both fear and arousal.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered when he finally pulled his hand away.

he studied you, and something shifted behind those eyes. that fury didn’t fade… it simply changed shape, became something darker, more possessive, more dangerous.

“you think a simple apology will fix this?” he asked, voice velvet and ice. “no, darling. i don’t think you understand what you’ve done.” he grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the hall. you didn’t resist.

he didn’t take you to the bedroom. no. elijah was far too calculated for that tonight. he pulled you into the library, slammed the doors shut, and pushed you over the antique desk, scattering papers and books like they meant nothing. you gasped as your stomach hit the edge, his body pressing into you from behind.

“i’m going to make you feel exactly how i felt,” he whispered into your ear, hot breath making your spine arch. “helpless. furious. terrified.”

“elijah—”

“strip.”

your hands trembled, but you obeyed, peeling your clothes off slowly, aware of how his eyes raked over every inch of exposed skin. when you were bare, he stepped closer, his suit still perfectly buttoned, except for the way his tie hung loose and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. you were vulnerable, he was devastating.

“on the desk,” he said coldly. “on your back. legs open.” you obeyed. he didn’t touch you at first, instead, he stood there and stared — eyes roaming every inch of you like a predator deciding how to devour his prey.

then he removed his jacket, slowly, deliberately, folding it over a chair like he wasn’t about to wreck you. his shirt followed, unbuttoned one by one. no rush. he was in total control, and you were aching already. when he finally stepped between your legs, he didn’t kiss you. he reached down and slid two fingers through your folds, humming in satisfaction at how wet you were. “of course,” he murmured. “you disobey me, nearly die — and this is how your body responds?” you whimpered.

he leaned down, biting your lower lip, tugging just enough to sting.

“you’re not cumming tonight until i say,” he said. “you will beg. and i might not even give it to you then.” then he dropped to his knees.

his mouth was on you in an instant — but not with mercy. he licked, sucked, teased with a maddening rhythm that sent your back arching off the desk. but every time you got close, every single time, he stopped, again and again, he brought you right to the edge, then backed away,

by the third time, you were shaking.

by the fifth, you were crying.

“please,” you gasped, voice broken. “elijah—please—”

“you’re not ready to be forgiven,” he growled, standing. his lips were slick with you, his eyes dark with need. you reached for him desperately, but he caught both your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. the other gripped your thigh, holding you open, exposed, trembling.

“you don’t get to cum just because you want to,” he said, leaning down. “you’ll come when i decide you’ve earned it.” and then — he pushed into you.

hard. deep.

his thrusts were fast, precise, punishing. he kept your wrists pinned, your legs spread wide, his body slamming into yours with unrelenting power. but still, he didn’t let you fall over the edge. every time your moans pitched higher, your muscles tensed, your body ready to let go, he stopped,

pulled out,

left you sobbing.

your skin was flushed. your body was trembling. your core was soaked and throbbing with need, you'd never been so desperate in your life.

“please,” you cried, legs shaking. “please, elijah, i can’t—”

his voice was ragged when he spoke next, the mask of control finally slipping. “you’ll remember this next time i tell you to stay safe.”

he slammed into you again, hitting deeper than before, angle brutal and perfect. your whole body jerked. your hands clawed at his arms. you were falling apart, and he was merciless.

his mouth found your throat. “you are mine. do you understand?”

“yes,” you sobbed. “yes—elijah, please, i’m yours—just let me—”

he bit your neck, drinking from you, and then, after pulling away with a satisfied groan, he finally — finally — let go.

he thrust hard, deep, staying there, letting you feel all of him. “now,” he whispered. “cum.” you shattered. screaming his name as pleasure ripped through your body like lightning, every denied orgasm crashing down at once. your body convulsed, your nails dug into his back, your thighs locked around him.

he groaned against your neck, pumping into you a few more times before he followed, coming hard and deep with a low, primal sound.

you both collapsed. you barely felt him lift you, carry you to the couch. you were still trembling in his arms, dazed, ruined, marked. he wrapped a blanket around you, pressing his forehead to yours as your heart finally began to slow.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. he held your face, kissed your lips, gentle now. reverent.

“don’t ever make me fear losing you again.”

“i won’t.”

“you’re mine,” he murmured again, brushing his fingers along your throat where his mouth had claimed you. and even though your body still ached, your mind was clearer than it had been in days. because in his fury, elijah had reminded you who you were.

his.

“I can’t hear you! My ears!” she motions to the trail of dried blood running from both her ears. The man turns to his left and shows her the right sleeve of his shirt showing her the American Flag worn proudly on the uniform. Her savior reaches out to grab her hand, just as they’re about to touch - 

"Holy shit." Quinn’s eyes shoot open as the pain meds start to wear off and she wakes up from sedation. The burning sensation crawls down her arm and across her chest like someone had lit a match under her skin.

"Hey doll, when did you join the Secret Service?" Sonny asks. He’s sitting in the chair next to her hospital bed, magazine in his lap. She also can see the tupperware that’s been placed on the table at the end of the bed, she’s sure that’s a Mrs. Carisi special she’s heard legends of. 

Quinn raises her right hand to rub her face, sighing loudly; flashes of memories jump through her brain that make the pain feel like it’s intensifying. She pushes the nasal cannula further up her nose to attempt tocounteract the scent of burn pit smoke that she caught. There's a knock at the door, it's the doctor.

"Hi Ms. Brady, you gave everyone quite the scare with your heroics. I'm here to talk about your treatment moving forward."

"Okay. Sonny, give me a few minutes," the he nods and leaves the room. The doctor closes the door behind them and stands closer to her bedside. "Okay so what's up doc?"

The doctor chuckles, "Well, you were unbelievably lucky. The bullet was through and through, damage was generally mild. You'll have some PT, possibly a follow-up surgery. You'll be in a sling for 6 weeks at least. This is going to be a long journey," the doctor is curt, and readministers a new dose of pain meds. 

“I can do PT, I’ve done it before,” Quinn admits.

“I know, I wasn’t able to pull any of your medical records but my request was flagged so I got a call from one of your former surgeons in Germany,” the doctor, Dr. Sarah Stein (Quinn finally was able to read her badge) admits. Quinn perks up at the mention of Germany, eyes widening. “Yes, I also spoke to your brother as well. I assured him that you are stable and we expect you to stay stable,” Quinn let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, that means Mac isn’t coming back to New York then. 

“Okay, thank you Dr. Stein,” Dr. Stein smiles politely and then leaves. 

Sonny walks in the door as Stein makes her way out, but he can already tell that Quinn is getting drowsy from the medications already. She slowly blinks, like her eyes are physically getting heavier and heavier. 

"Amaro's down the hall, Amanda and Liv are in there with him," he informs her anyway; considering she wasn’t the only one who got shot.

"How is he?" she asks.

"He'll be okay, long recovery, but fine; same as you," he shrugs, she looks around and notices the largely vacant and sterile room. She’s fighting the effects of the drugs but can still notice that there are no flowers like you would expect to get after being in the hospital, only the bag from the Carisi household. 

"No visitors from my office?" Sonny shakes his head and he watches as she basically nods off mid conversation. "You need to get some rest Quinn," he reaches forward to pull her blankets up to her chin, she nods and shimmies down in her bed to get more comfortable. She’s out as soon as she closes her eyes, Sonny quietly slips out of the room. 

Rafael rushes up to him as soon as he is outside of the room, gasping slightly. “I’m here, how is she?”

“You just missed her, she got some more meds and passed out. But I think she’s fine. Well, as fine as she could be for getting shot,” Sonny says and pats his mentor on the shoulder. 

Sonny could tell that Rafael had been shaken by the shooting, but what he couldn’t tell was that in the three hours since it had happened, Rafael had spent two of those hours in a boiling hot shower, methodically scrubbing any atom of Quinn from his skin. If he had a fireplace in his apartment, he would have burned the suit too. 

“Hey, Nick’s mom just got here. I’m going to head home to Noah,” Liv’s voice joins the pair. “Sonny, you should go home too.”

Her eyes fall to Rafael, who stays unmoved, eyes glued to Quinn’s hospital room door. She observes how his brow is furrowed and his hands, which hang at his sides, are trembling just ever so slightly. 

As the squad leaves Rafael slips into Quinn’s room and takes the seat Sonny had been sitting in when she woke up. 

***

"Sonny, Quinn, come in please," Liv opens the door to her apartment, the squad and its two ADAs are celebrating Noah's official adoption, just a week after the Johnny D. trial spectacle.

"Thank you so much for having me over, I really needed to get out of the house. The DA has me on house arrest," Quinn thanks, adjusting her sling slightly across her chest, Carisi pats her shoulder slightly and leaves her to her own devices.

"Of course, I'm so glad you could make it," Liv smiles sweetly. "Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen, please make yourself at home." Quinn crosses the floor, to stumble upon Mr. Barba who is drinking from a glass of wine.

"Mr. Barba, it’s been a few weeks," she looks up to meet his green eyes,

"Ms. Brady, I’ve been busy picking up your slack,” he grunts but the playful glint in his eyes give him away. Green irises trail from her blue ones to her slinged arm. “Can I get you a drink?”

"That would be great, thank you." Barba pours her a glass of red wine and hands it to her. 

"So how have you been? Since you've been out of the office?" He asks, taking in her features since it's been a few weeks. She's thinner somehow, probably from the pain medications and the hospital stay, her freckles are now even more present with her somehow paler skin. The dark circles under her eyes are only lightly apparent under her makeup. Her ginger locks are down, un-styled, due to her temporary incapacitation. And the ginger isn’t as rich, the golden hues it normally held have dulled; probably the weight loss. 

"It’s been okay. The DA locked me out of my accounts so I haven't been able to work at all. Sonny's been nice enough to bring a few meals over so I don't starve," she giggles, she also does a brief inventory of her co-counsel, he's the most dressed down she's seen him yet. A polo under a sports coat is Rafael Barba's version of dressed down apparently. She had settled on a daffodil yellow, cap-sleeved dress; so she didn't have much to say about that on that front. Before Rafael can respond Liv walks by with baby Noah on her hip. The smile that is stamped on Quinn's face irradiates her being, almost instantly returning the bright golden sparkle to her red hair.

"Oh my goodness, Noah, it is so nice to finally meet you. Look at those cheeks!" Quinn's tough persona is quick to slip when she makes eye contact with the baby.

"Oh, so you like kids?" Liv asks, honestly in shock at the reaction.

“Yeah, I do,” Quinn moves her wine glass from her right hand to her slung left hand to tap the boy lightly on the nose. 

“That’s nice to know at least one of our ADAs does, Barba froze the one time I asked him to hold Noah.”

“How many painkillers did you take this morning?” Barba eyes her skeptically from her side. 

"Wait...wait...wait. So let me get this straight. Officer McKenna said she saw a gun, she initiated the shooting, she tells you she was hit and somehow YOU are the one they're trying to indict...with a hate crime attached. Do they realize the officer you were trying to protect was ALSO Black?!" The incredulity of the situation had Gia pacing her hallway while on the phone with Nick. Gia was pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn't surprised that Ed Tucker was throwing Amaro under the bus. That was his normal MO.

"Gee, I know. Officer McKenna isn't cooperating anymore. They're using me as the example for excessive force. I had no idea that it was her own bullet. Calhoun and I went to Strauss for a deal, I was going to turn in my papers..."

"You What?! You're going to retire and do what?" Gia's head was pounding. She was having frequent headaches since she was released from the hospital. The stitches in her head were irritating her. Her wounded arm hurt. She was walking around in a pair of cotton pajama shorts and a hoodie.

"Well he refused to drop the Hate Crime statute so I didn't take it. Listen, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you..." Nick was trying to avoid the bomb that was about to detonate.

"Well, I haven't been excited about anything in this conversation so go ahead." Nick appreciated her sarcasm in that moment because he knew it was going to slip into outrage in a moment.

"Don't freak out but I'm going to testify at the Grand Jury."

"Don't freak out...DON'T FREAK OUT?? Jesus Christ are you trying to give me a stroke?!" The volume of Gia's voice increased with each word growing high pitched at the end.

"I have to take the chance. He's in there insinuating things that he can't in a trial." Gia's free hand fell to her side, her hand slapping against her thigh.

"Yeah Nick, I know. This is a TERRIBLE idea. The things he can ask you and not having Calhoun in there to have your back? This is a whole new level of insanity. You and I are the same brand of crazy and even I wouldn't do this." Gia had her hand on the top of her head as she continued her loop of the hallway.

"Listen, I know all of that. I'm hoping if they see me, hear from me, that maybe it'll repair some of the damage Strauss is doing. I have to do what I can to not end up in prison." Gia exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Nick, please...please don't do this. It's a huge risk." Gia felt completely useless. She wasn't there for him when his house was shot up. She felt sick knowing Zara had been there. He refused to use the spare bedroom she and Rafael had because she was recovering. Instead, he was sleeping on Liv's couch with Cassidy who was investigating him with Tucker.

"Gee, I need you to trust me, okay? I don't need you getting worked up over this. I can literally hear your high blood pressure over the phone. It'll be fine." Gia was silent. She didn't know what else to say.

"I assume there is not a fucking thing I can say to change your mind?" She had to ask before she conceded.

"No, there isn't." Gia squeezed her lips together leaning against the wall.

"Okay." There weren't any other words she could muster. All of the worst case scenarios rolling through her brain.

"Look, you don't need to worry about this right now. I just didn't want you to find out from someone else. You need to rest and recover." By someone else, she knew he meant Rafael. She assumed he gave him the ultimatum to tell Gia or he would.

"Nick, I'm fine. Just...just focus on what you plan to say. Think of every horrible question that asshat can ask you. All of the ways he can twist this and have a solid answer. And keep your temper in check. He's going to try and bait you."

"I will. I'll check in later okay? Get some rest." He hung up before she could respond. She wanted to scream, but she was sure she had disturbed Rafael enough while he was trying to work.

Gia took a couple of slow deep breaths. She decided to go check in on Rafael before she took something for her headache. She was hoping it would dull her emotions enough to calm her anxiety. She knew it was a naive wish by the way her heart was rattling in her chest.

When she made it to Rafael's office, he had left the door open. When she walked in, he wasn't behind his desk and the couch was empty. Her brows knitted together and she walked out in search of him. She stopped short when she made it to the living room.

There was a woman in the living room with him. She was older and she was beautiful. Short dark hair, dark eyes and she was impeccably put together. Then she noticed it, she and Rafael had the same nose. Without him even introducing her, she knew it was Lucille Barba.

Rafael turned and saw Gia stopped in the doorway. She was wide eyed and obviously, but adorably, startled. Part of him was happy that this was how she was meeting his mother, his mother was getting the authentic version of her. Not that he had planned it that way. He just knew that Gia would overthink meeting his mother.

He had told his mother what had happened and she had admired Gia's bravery and was appalled that no one in her family had been back to check on her. She had been pestering Rafael for months about meeting Gia. She finally decided she no longer wanted to wait and showed up after she found out Rafael was working from home to be with Gia. His mother had arrived right before Gia had gotten on the phone with Nick and had heard her colorful melt down over Nick's decision to testify.

"Hi, I would have gotten dressed if I knew we were having company." She gave Rafael a pointed look. Rafael walked over to her and put his arm around her and led her closer to his mother.

"Don't you worry about that. I didnt tell him I was coming." Lucille immediately dismissed her concerns.

"Mom, this is Gianna Monroe. Gia, this is my mother Lucille Barba." Rafael kept a steady and comforting hand on her back.

"Mrs. Barba, it's so nice to meet you." Lucille took her hand and gave her a warm smile.

"You call me Lucille. I'm so glad to finally meet you. All he does is talk about you." She squeezed Gia's hand. Gia saw a slight blush creep over Rafael's face.

Gia felt a wide range of emotions. She was nervous and embarrassed. She hadn't worn makeup in days and her hair was messily on top of her head and she was essentially dressed in pajamas. She was hoping his mother got there after her call with Nick, though she doubted it.

"My mom brought food over so we didn't have to worry about it." Rafael's nodded his head towards the dining room table that had bags on it.

"Well, I wanted to do something for the very brave woman who has captivated my son enough to get him out of the office." Lucille stepped a little bit closer. She cupped Gia's chin to turn her head slightly to look at the bruising and stitches. Normally, Gia would find it intrusive, but it was surprisingly endearing.

"Oh sweetheart, that must hurt. Is my son taking care of you?" It was the first time in her life she felt someone showing her motherly concern. Gia felt the anxiety fleeing her body and she laughed.

"He takes great care of me, and I make it pretty hard for him." Gia winced as she shifted her body. Rafael noticed immediately.

"Sit down." He led her to the couch. Lucille sat down next to Gia and Rafael took a seat in the chair closest to Gia.

"I won't stay. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I just wanted to stop and meet you. This way if Rafi is stuck and work and you need anything, you'll feel comfortable calling me. It must be hard having your family so far away." Gia blinked a few times to prevent her burning eyes from watering.

"It can be. My mother is in worse shape than I am, she needs them more. I have Rafael, Olivia, Nick and the rest of the squad." Lucia took Gia's hand again in both of hers.

"Well, now you have someone that is outside of the precinct. You call me any time. I'm going to go so you can get some rest." She patted the top of Gia's hand.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Rafael stood when his mother did and walked her to the door. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek before he shut the door behind her. When he turned around, he couldn't help but grin. Gia hid her face in her hands.

"How much of that phone call with Nick did she hear?" Her voice was muffled.

"Ohhh, every colorful word of it." He sat down next to her on the couch. Rafael laughed as she groaned.

"I'm so embarrassed." He put his hand on her upper back and rubbed it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, she's said much worse." Gia turned her head to the side while still resting her face in her hands. The amused look slowly faded from her face.

"Tell me Nick isn't going to prison." She whispered.

"I can't. I hope not, but they are gunning for him." She knew he wouldn't lie to her, but part of her wished he would just to hold onto some sense of false hope.

"I can't lose him too." She whispered. She felt like her world was caving in. She could not take one more literal or metaphorical loss. She didn't think she would survive it.

"Listen to me, this goes to trial, their case is flimsy at best. It's easy to get an indictment, but at trial they have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. You know this." She nodded her head, but didn't say anything. He sighed and moved closer to her and put his arm around and pulled her close to him. He could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind. He thought for a moment to think of something to take her mind off of it.

"Do you know the first time I felt a spark of something for you?" He rubbed slow circles on her lower back.

"No, I don't." She placed her hand on his chest, opposite of where her head was. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady strum of his heart.

"We were at a police fundraiser the Mayor put on. One PP had asked you to attend. The department was looking for representatives from some of the major departments to help elicit the wealthiest of New Yorkers to write some checks. They knew that you were the person to represent SVU. It was clear that they made the right choice, you fit into that crowd seamlessly. I remember seeing you from across the room, you had on this simple black silk dress that knotted in the front. I don't even know who you were talking to, but you had this radiant smile, one I had never seen before, mostly because I had never done anything to earn it. I suddenly found myself wanting to be the reason you smile like that. I almost wrote a huge check just to try and get one, but I knew it wouldn't work. I had to really earn it." Gia was quiet for a moment.

"I knew I was going to fall in love with you before we became us, and we became us well before I moved in here. It was shortly after you brought me that coffee as a peace offering. It was after a really bad case, Jacob Henson, the 6 year old that went missing. I was too invested in that case and having to describe what we found, what was done to him...it was horrific. I was the last to testify for the day and I barely held it together on the stand. I remember my voice cracking a few times. I bolted out of that courtroom and I ended up in this little secluded hallway by a window and I fell apart. You found me, said you had been looking for me everywhere. I didn't want to turn and look at you, I was embarrassed and felt so unprofessional. When you asked me to turn around and I refused, you came and stood next to me and put your hand on my back and said 'please look at me.' I have always hated people seeing me cry, but I turned around anyway. You uh, reached into the inner pocket of your suit jacket for something to wipe my tears, when you came up empty, you snatched your pocket square and wiped my tears. I felt bad for ruining it and you folded it neatly and put it in my jacket pocket. Then you put your arm around me and we sat on that window ledge until I was ready. You told me that we didn't have to talk, but that we were going to stay there until I was ready to leave. That you weren't leaving me alone. That was when I knew. I still have that pocket square." He pulled her a little bit closer.

"You are sentimental." He mused. He kissed her forehead before reaching over and tipping her chin up so he could kiss her properly. He pulled away when he felt her wince.

"Sorry, I moved wrong." He pulled her back to him.

"You need to stop apologizing for nothing. Do you need to lay down?" His concern for her wellbeing was endearing. Part of her wanted to close off the rest of the world and stay in the apartment with him indefinitely, though she knew it was unrealistic.

"I can't lay around in that bed anymore. I'm going crazy." She hated that this was the second time in the year that she was injured. She had never been hurt on the job until she was with SVU.

"This is literally your 2nd day home. You barely dodged a bullet, literally. You have rib bruising and you took another blow to the head and while not as serious as the last one, this is your second concussion in less than a year. You're stitched up on your face and arm. I know you think your injuries are minimal and you should 'suck it up', but you still need to heal." She sat up so she could look at him.

"Okay Dr. Barba, I hear you." He shook his head at her, with a faint smile on his face.

"How about you go rest while I finish up some things for the office and I'll come lay with you." She ran her thumb over his cheek. She didn't have it in her to protest going to lay down. She had worried him enough for a lifetime. The dull ache in her head had started becoming more intense.

"Alright Counselor, you win." He looked a little surprised, but took the win. He stood up and helped her to her feet and got her settled before heading back down the hall to finish his work as soon as he could so he could get back to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gia wasn't sure what to think. Rafael had to go into the office for an 8th floor meeting and she had planned on spending the day watching bad TV. That was until Captain Cragen had asked her to meet him for coffee. Gia couldn't think of any other time Cragen had asked her to meet him like that before. She wished her default feeling wasn't anxiety, but that was all she felt lately, just different variations of it.

Once she arrived at the coffee shop, she felt the flutter of anxiety increase when she saw Cragen waiting for her. What on Earth Cragen needed to tell her that he didn't want to over the phone? She also wasn't sure why he didn't want her to come into the precinct. Something was definitely up.

"Captain?" She felt suddenly terrified that they had fired Nick and Cragen because of what happened. It was when she saw his warm smile that her fear dissipated.

"Gia, thanks for coming in. I'm sorry for dragging you out. Though you look great for someone bouncing back from another concussion. She genuinely laughed.

"Thank you. So what...what's going on?" Cragen saw the frantic look on her face. "I know something is up. You aren't the 'meet me for a meal or coffee' type." That was one of the many things he appreciated about Gia, she was straight to the point.

"So I see we're going to skip small talk. Don't worry, Nick still has his badge. It's me. I'm leaving, and before you ask, it was my decision." He watched be brows knit together in confusion.

"Wait...you're serious. What the hell is going on?!" Gia could not wrap her mind around what he had just said.

"Listen, I'm almost at mandatory retirement and I have enough time accrued that takes me there. I actually made the decision before everything that happened with Nick. Eileen and I are going on a six month cruise." The fear melted from Gia's face.

"Captain, that's...that's amazing. A six month cruise? Well for one thing, I'm jealous, but I'm so happy for you. I actually recently floated the idea of running away to an island to Rafael. He countered with threatening to wear a speedo every day." Cragen laughed. He would miss her sense of humor and delivery of funny tidbits. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel a little sad that she wouldn't get more time to work with him.

"Thank you. I didn't want to say anything until Amaro's case was over. I didn't want to distract from that. I also wanted to tell you to your face. You'll be happy to know that Liv will be acting CO as Sergeant." Gia wasn't surprised to hear that.

"Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else taking over this unit." Cragen nodded.

"Neither could I. Gia, it has been such a pleasure to see you grow as a Detective. You have such a bright future ahead of you. One PP sees it, you use that to your advantage, and if they won't budge? You call Jack McCoy. I know that Liv has been your mentor and you are loyal to her. She will want you to make the choice that is best for you, always. Even if it means leaving SVU. Liv, she's an SVU lifer, Gia, you're not. I know why you came to SVU and when you find what it is that you've been looking for, get out. I mean it. I want you to know, you can always call me if you need anything."

"Thank you Captain, that means a lot." Gia looked down, everything he had just said hit her deeply. He put his hand on hers to get her attention.

"Gia, don't allow your family and everything that has happened define you. You are so much more than that and you deserve a lot better than you've been given." Gia laughed.

"You know, I've heard that before." Cragen also laughed.

"I'm sure you have. I don't think Amaro or Barba are very good at keeping their opinions to themselves."

"Not even a little bit. Though Rafael is a little more eloquent in his delivery than Nick is, but not much." Gia shook her head. She knew how the both of them felt about her family. She didn't blame them and she didn't disagree. It was just complicated.

"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself and if you can't, you'll let Rafael do it until you can." Gia smiled at himm.

"I promise. Thank you, Captain, for everything. It's been an honor working for you." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Be happy, Gia. You deserve that most of all."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a strange day. Rafael had planned on working from home again but he had been called into a meeting with Jack McCoy. They were officially handing the Isaac Moreno case over to The Feds. Rafael had felt relieved. Normally, he'd fight for the case. This time, he just wanted to be done with it. He wanted to be able to move forward from it, for Gia to move forward from it. Letting the Feds take on the hunt for Moreno made it that much easier. The more they dug into him, the worse things they found. He actually couldn't wait to tell Gia they were done with it.

Then, she had texted him and asked him to come home as soon as he could. She had never done that. He had asked her what was wrong. She had assured him she was physically okay, but she didn't want to talk about it on the phone and that she really just needed him.

He had been getting ready to leave when Cragen had stopped into his office to tell him about his retirement. He was telling the rest of the squad that evening. He had met Gia and told her and while she had seemed happy for him, he also knew that she had been hit with a lot of changes and he wanted to give Rafael a heads up in case her happiness was for his benefit. Cragen had also noticed how Gia's anxiety had been on the increase. He didn't feel that she was a liability, he just didn't want to be the cause of any more stress on her. He then made Rafael promise to take care of her, even if she fought it. It wasn't even something Cragen had to ask for. Cragen admitted that he had assumed so, but it made him feel better to say it.

Rafael knew that wasn't what had caused her to ask him to come home. It was something else. Once Cragen was gone, he told Carmen he was finishing the rest of the day at home. She had given him a box for Gia. There was this bakery that she loved and Carmen had stopped to pick up some of the things she knew Gia loved. Rafael had asked her once to run over and grab them before they closed and she had never forgotten. Carmen had said she couldn't do anything to help Gia with what she was dealing with, so she wanted to just do something nice for her. It was then that Rafael realized Carmen probably deserved a raise.

As he opened the door to the apartment, Gia was no where to be seen. She must have been in their bedroom. He hung his coat up, set his bag on one of the living room chairs and made his way into their bedroom.

She was sitting in her chair in a pair of sweatpants and her sleeveless Columbia T-Shirt. She had the ice pack wrapped around her arm. She was sitting in a way that was so familiar to him. Both of her legs were hanging over the arm of the chair. She was, however, sitting at more of an angle to hold the large ice pack on her ribs. Her head was rested on the back of the chair, her eyes closed. He wasn't sure if she was asleep or not.

"Gia?" Her eyes fluttered open. There was a sadness etched onto her face. "What's...what happened?" She sighed, she tossed the large ice pack on the table. He set the box from Carmen on the end of their bed. He helped her stand up. She wrapped her arms around him and he held her for a moment. She pulled away after a moment and kissed him softly.

"Sorry, I just needed that first. She winced as she reached for her phone. "It's just easier if you read it."

He took her phone and saw that it was a text message from Grayson. So much for him giving her time to reach out when she was ready. Once he started reading, he understood why.

His firm had offered him a 6 month assignment overseas to set up an international office. He had said yes, he didn't have much time to make the decision. He and Anna needed to get away from New York for a while and this was the perfect opportunity. He had thought that being with their parents for a while was a good option but it wasn't working out, not for Anna. They would get time away and then be back in New York to get Anna set up for Kindergarten. They would be leaving after the new year, but his firm was announcing it later that day, he didn't want her to find out that way. He ended the message with that he loved her and begged her to call him. Rafael set the phone down. He knew that she hadn't even had the chance to process what had happened and now she had this added to it.

He took a moment to take stock of her. As he studied her face, he noticed that her stitches were gone.

"Did you see the doctor today to get those out." She shook her head.

"I was getting ready to go and meet Cragen." Rafael had let her know that he needed a little bit of time when Cragen had walked into his office, so she knew that he knew. "I couldn't find a way to cover the stitches and I didn't want to go out looking like the Bride of Frankenstein, so I took them out. They did the stitches as a precaution, I didn't really need them." His exasperated expression made her feel a little bad.

"You took them out...What....what was the plan if it wasn't healed and you started bleeding?" He shouldn't have been surprised she took them out on her own.

"Butterfly bandages and a visit to my friend Jesse at the ER? I was fine and I was right." He sighed. How could he even argue with that.

"Please tell me you left the ones in your arm." She laughed.

"Yes. That is not a wound I plan on messing with. The ones in my face were driving me crazy. It feels better without them." He shook his head.

"Before we get into Grayson, can I check the ribs?" She nodded and lifted up the side of her shirt. The bruising was still dark, but the purple had lightened slightly and there was a tinge of yellow around the edges. "Do you want to put the ice pack back on?"

"No, I had it on for a while. It needs to go back in the freeezer. This one too." She unstrapped the one on her arm.

"I am going to go out them in the freezer. You get comfortable and then we can talk. That box is from Carmen, she grabbed you some pastries." She nodded and he headed out of the room.

After he put them back in the freezer, he undid his tie and took off his suit jacket. When he walked back into their room, she was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. She had set the box from Carmen on the nightstand. Normally she would already have opened them. That's how he really knew she was upset. He rolled up his sleeves and then climbed into bed next to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's probably the best thing for the both of them right now. I know Grayson is the furthest thing from a perfect brother, but not having him a car ride away, right down the street hasn't happened since grad school. Regardless, he always apologizes. I know I said I was sick of apologies, but for the first time, with what happened with Sienna, I think he's ready to really deal with the things he needs to. And Anna? I can't even think about that."

"I think you just explained why you're so upset. It's also only been a couple of days since everything happened with Sienna. Your body hasn't even healed yet, let alone you having time to emotionally deal with all of it." She sighed and was silent for a moment.

"I think I'm afraid that he's not going to come back. I mean, this is the perfect chance to truly start over. There's no chance a judge is going to make him bring Anna to visit Sienna anytime soon. Not after what she did. That would not be good for her, emotionally. He's setting up the new office, what if they ask him to stay permanently? What if Anna flourishes over there and coming back here would be a mistake?" There it was. That was what was really upsetting her. "I feel like every time I turn around lately I'm loosing someone. I almost just lost Nick. Who's next? You?" That broke his heart just a little bit.

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm in it for the long haul. And you can't worry about something happening to me. None of us can know if something like that is going to happen." He kissed the top of her head.

"I know Raf. I've just been spiraling since I got that text. Especially after Cragen's retirement announcement. I mean they could have coordinated that better." He laughed.

"I thought you were happy for Cragen?"

"Oh no, I am. He deserves happiness, especially after everything that has happened. Eileen has been his second chance. I'm just going to miss him. He fought for me, he believed in me, instantly. It was just the back to back 'hey I'm leaving' messages." She settled into him more as he started running circles into her scalp.

"I think that you're missing the silver lining you're so used to finding. Grayson being overseas means Grayson will have space from your mother. You've always said that Grayson never realized the damage your mother caused him. I think he has now. Being on the other side of the world may give him a chance to truly heal. Also, you have Grayson living in Timbuktu without WiFi or phone access." Gia laughed. Even through everything, he could still make her laugh.

"No, you're right. Space from my mother is the best thing for him. He also doesn't need to take on her recovery. And I know there is WiFi and video chats and all of that. But not seeing him or Anna whenever I want is going to be an adjustment. But also, maybe him being gone will improve our relationship. Him overseas means the space I need without it being the 'I need to go low contact'. I don't want that with him." Rafael was quiet for a moment.

"It also means that Anna's trauma recovery won't be on you, because it shouldn't. You need to recover from your own. I know you haven't dealt with your feelings on what happened with Sienna. You have to grieve that loss. It's a different kind of loss." He felt her tense slightly.

"That's something I wanted to talk to you about. I promised no more surprise jail house visits. I'm going to see her tomorrow." He started to protest.

"Gia that is a terrible idea." Before he could continue, she slowly pulled herself up so she could look at him.

"Just listen, please. Rita is going with me. Raf, I need closure. I need to move on. To do that, I have questions that I have to ask. I don't want to wait. I want to move past this and I know that I need to let that pain in. There are just things I need to say and hear so I can do that. I'm telling you before I do it. I need this and I need you to support me." She was doing what he had asked. He had no right to tell her no.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I know you hate that I feel this need to protect you. You have to realize though. It's not because I think you're weak, or that you can't handle it yourself. It's because I love you with everything that I have and I just want to spare you as much pain, emotional or physical that I can. That's not going to go away." Instead of responding, she kissed him. It was searing and it took him off guard. When she pulled away, she ran her fingers through his hair and then rested her hand on his cheek.

"I know. I know. I also know that I make it incredibly difficult sometimes and I'm trying to get better. I just know I need this." He pulled her by the waist so she was sitting in his lap facing him. Her hands immediately rested on his shoulders.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I'll clear my whole damn day." She ran her hand to the nape of his neck, running her nails through the hair on the back of his head.

"She trusts Rita, you set her on edge and I'm pretty sure you need to start doing your actual job again." He laughed.

"True, but I still have a little leeway. My boss happens to be particularly fond of you. Actually, my meeting today was about you a little bit." She scrunched her face a little bit.

"Do tell, don't hold out on me now." He kissed her again before he started talking.

"First and foremost he wanted to make sure you were okay. He also wanted to make sure I was taking care if his, how did he put it? His 'future investment'. You know Jack, he's like you with the jokes. I'm almost terrified at the idea of you working for him." Gia laughed before he continued. "He then wanted to inform me that The Feds wanted the Isaac Moreno case. He wanted to give me the option to fight for it. I said no and to let them take it." She looked genuinely surprised.

"What? Really?" He brushed her hair out of her face.

"Yes, really. Lord knows where he is going to end up for one thing and I want to put this behind us. I want us to move on, move forward. He's dangerous and it truly should be a Federal case." Rafael never gave up a case willingly.

"Raf...thank you. That means a lot."

"It's the truth. I want us looking towards the future."

"And what do you see in the future?" He smiled.

"You, Gia. When I look toward the future, all I see is you." She kissed him again, with more need. "Now, our immediate future is you taking something for your pain and getting some rest while I get some work done. You look exhausted. She nodded.

"I am really tired. Going out to see Cragen took a lot out of me." Rafael slowly slid her off of his lap and settled her back into her spot. He went over to her nightstand and grabbed her some medication and gave her some water.

"You sleep, I'll wake you up in a couple of hours." He pulled the blankets over her and smoothed her hair back.

"Did you really just tuck me in?" She laughed. He leaned downed and kissed her cheek.

"I did. Shut up." She laughed again as he shook and shut the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gia felt nauseous as she followed Rita down to see Sienna. She was definitely second guessing this decision. She knew she was going to be exhausted after this. She could tell Rafael was uneasy on his way out the door as he hesitated to leave. She knew he wanted to be the one holding her hand through this, but she had to do this one on her own.

For being in prison, Sienna looked good. Gia had reached out to one of the guards from when her brother was there and asked that they make sure Sienna was okay. So long as Sienna didn't cause trouble, her back would be watched.

It had been almost a week since the incident, Sienna looked different somehow, in her eyes. The look of relief on her face when she saw Gia walk in was incredibly apparent. Rita led Gia in and nodded at the guard to close the cell door.

"Before you say anything, can I go first?" Sienna asked. Gia nodded.

"First of all, I am so sorry. I know those words sound probably incredibly hollow, but it's true. I am so thankful that you are okay. I would not have been able to live with myself if you weren't. I'm not going to be making excuses, I just want you to understand. I was mentally evaluated, almost immediately when they took me into custody after I signed my deal. I was suicidal. I was in a severe state of psychosis. They diagnosed me with a borderline personality disorder." Sienna closed her eyes for a moment. "I held a gun at you while you were holding my daughter. When I look back now at all of the signs and symptoms...I don't have any words to describe the deep and severe shame I feel. I know it means likely nothing, but I will never forgive myself for what I put you through, the trauma I caused my daughter..." she choked back a sob.

"Sienna, you weren't in your right mind. It obviously doesn't make it okay. But I'd rather this than you just being a monster. I couldn't wrap my brain around that. I wish I had seen the symptoms." Before Gia could continue.

"Please, please don't think that you should have been able to prevent this." Gia shook her head.

"I don't. I wasn't your therapist, I just wish I would have pushed you towards therapy instead of trying to not upset you. Hindsight is all. I'm assuming you're medicated."

"Yes, and I see the therapist daily. They may have me institutionalized." Gia sat back and blinked.

"A hospital for your sentence?" Gia didn't know how she felt about it. On one hand, the one that was so angry that a woman was dead and two little girls were traumatized made Gia want to see Sienna rot in prison. On the other hand, if she wasn't in control of herself, like Gia really place all of that blame on her. Her mental instability is likely what drew Isaac Moreno to her.

"I don't know. I just know that they don't think this place is a good fit for me." Gia didn't know what to say. She had come in here built up by anger and had wanted answers. Now? She knew that Sienna wouldn't be able to answer them. She wasn't going to get them at all."

"I hope that regardless of what happens, you get the help that you need and can have a life when you have your freedom back." Gia meant it. All of the anger that she felt was suddenly gone. It was replaced by sympathy.

"Will they ever let me see her again?" Gia knew she meant Anna.

"I...I can't answer that. I honestly don't know. It won't be for a very long time. You should know. Grayson and Annie are going to be over in Europe for about 6 months. He's helping set up a new office. The both of them need space and time to heel." She watched as a tear fell from Sienna's face. Gia almost...almost wanted to hug her.

"That will be really good for the two of them I think. Maybe it'll give Anna the chance to forget about me." Gia didn't know if she was hunting for sympathy or if she really meant it. Either way, she didn't respond.

"I really came here Sienna, to say goodbye." Gia finally said. She didn't know how much longer she could be in this place with her.

"Goodbye?" Sienna hadn't been expecting that. She had truthfully thought that even after everything she'd still have Gia.

"Yes, goodbye. I have been through so much this year, too much. I need to let this go. You, Isaac Moreno, all of it. For the first time, ever, I see a light at the end of the tunnel and it means that I have to cut out as much of the trauma that I can. I am glad that you're still here and I'm glad that you're finally getting the help that you need...but I can't be apart of your life going forward." Gia saw a flash of anger in Sienna's eyes.

"So even though I'm sick, you're walking away from me?"

"Rita, I'm assuming that you and Sienna have some things to discuss. I can get myself back to the city." Gia stood up, signaling for the guard to let her out.

"Gia please, please don't walk away from me." Sienna pleaded. Gia stopped for a moment