SVU and Blue Bloods Imagines

“Okay, so you’re telling me he hasn’t been teaching you anything?” She persisted, looking at you and then shooting disappointed daggers at her son, as you continued to navigate the busy morning streets. 

You looked at your Dad for a the answer to that question too. 

“I gave her book,” He offered, sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders in a childish manner. 

You couldn’t suppress your laugh and neither could Mr.Barba at that point. Abuela Lucia was not amused swotting at you both in frustration but it was lighthearted. 

“Then it’s decided, I’ll start teaching you Spanish. We’ll have our first lesson on Saturday,” She insisted, determined. 

You felt Mr.Barba tense up slightly beside you, you glanced up at him and narrowed your eyes. 

“That’s not necessary Mama,” He began, “She already has so much to learn. I don’t want too…” 

“It’s fine,” You interjected with a smile, “I want to learn. I’m technically Cuban too, aren't I?” 

“Yes, you are,” Your Grandmother confirmed, “And you have to learn eventually,”

“Are you sure?” Mr . Barba questioned, ignoring his mother and looking back at you. 

“Why not?” You shrugged, nonchalantly, “It should be fun!” 

“Well, okay…” He considered, somewhat nervous, shooting concerned glances to his mother. 

“This is perfect, how about I host next lunch Saturday?” Your Grandmother started to plan almost ecstatically, “And you can finally see where I live and where your Dad grew up. I’m going to take you to get the best Cuban food you can have outside my kitchen and I can show you round the neighbourhood and you can meet everyone…they are all so excite…” 

“Mom,” Mr .Barba interrupted cutting her off suddenly, making you jump ever so slightly, before more calmly adding, “Not yet,” 

“But I want to go,” You insisted as you all finally reached the school gates.  

“You do?” He asked, surprised, raising an eyebrow almost suspiciously at you. 

“Can I not be curious about my own heritage?” You shot back, pointedly, eager to make sure he was suspicious of you. 

“I just figured it would be too much too soon,” 

“You figured wrong,” You corrected. 

“I guess I did,” He accepted, unable to suppress the wide smile forming on his face. 

“Then it’s settled,” Your Grandmother grinned. 

“Sounds like a plan,” You agreed, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to go or I’m going to be late,” 

You then swung your bag over your shoulder while spinning on your heels and walking past the gates towards your school. 

“hasta luego querida,” Your grandmother called after you.

You looked back and tossed a wave over your shoulder at both of them, “Adios Abuela,” and after you tentatively added, “Adiós señor Barba,” 

“Where’d you learn that?” He shouted.

“The book,” You responded before turning back around and rushing towards the entrance as the bell rang out. 

Rafael Barba turned to look at his mother after waiting and watching his young daughter disappear into the crowd of other children all in the same uniform. He turned to see his Mother beaming at him, he rolled his eyes at her in response. 

“What?” He questioned, “Stop looking at me like that,”

“Can I not be happy to see my baby happy?” She snapped back feistily, as she linked arms with him as they continued to make their way to breakfast, it was only a few blocks away now. 

“Who says I’m happy?” He retorted.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, it’s written all over your face,” She responded, grabbing his face and squeezing it.

“Perhaps, I need to work on my poker face then if I’m that obvious,” He commented dryly.

“I’m also your Mother, you can’t hide anything from me,” She added pointedly, “I know when you’re angry, sad, happy. I feel it in my heart. A mother always knows,” 

“I am happy,” He finally admitted, almost in relief, resting his head on her shoulder momentarily, “Things have been…”

“Better?” She offered. 

He nodded, “A lot better, sometimes...I can’t even believe it,” 

“What changed?” She probed. 

“We started talking. We had some difficult conversations and I started to let up on some things and we just started getting along…but I don’t know…” He offered, hesitantly. 

“What do you mean by ‘difficult conversations’?” She probed once again, inquisitively.

“You know,” He began to respond vaguely, “About Erika…”

“We haven’t ever discussed her either, you know? Well, not properly at least,” She pointed out, encouragingly. 

“That’s because…there isn’t much to say,” He answered falsely, not wanting to go into the details of everything and unnecessarily worry her, “She was just a girl I met at a random bar, we had a couple dates and then I never saw again. And now I won’t ever,” 

“She’s with the Lord now,” His Mother whispered as if she was speaking to herself, “God bless her soul,”

“You don’t know that. You didn’t know her,” Barba commented without thinking. 

His Mother eyes him suspiciously before letting it slide. 

“Well, she gave me my only grandchild. I would hope that’s where she is and that she is at peace so one day she can see Y/N again and so I can thank her for Y/N too,” Rafael’s mother explained.

“Her actions also kept you away from her for years,” Barba pointed out. 

“But I have her now,” She reminded, “…And so do you,” 

“I do,” He nodded, before quickly adding,  “Well at least I think so…”

“You know you can’t jinx it just by talking about it,” She countered. 

“I know I just don’t want to think about it or put too much pressure or thought in case…” 

“It gets bad again?” She offered once again, rubbing his upper arm in a comforting gesture.

“I can’t help but think I’m going to mess this up somehow and things are going so well,” He confessed, “I just want it to stay like this,” 

You slipped into the shadows, burying yourself into the crowd, making sure they couldn't see you as you watched them until they were out of sight. When that happened you walked back out the same way you came and did so undetected. You caught a glance at both of them turning the corner, still chatting away, probably talking about you. 

It was always easier talking to your Grandmother than it was talking to him at least you weren’t pretending when you did. 

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you had somewhere you needed to be and you had to make sure you didn’t miss them. The sensation of exhilaration coursed through you as you made your way to your destination. You’d never skipped school before, you couldn’t even fathom it and now here you were. And though you felt a twang of guilt, you knew you had to do this if you wanted to find out the truth. 

It’s been two months since that dinner with your Dad in which he rather reluctantly admitted to you that one of the reasons he took you away from your family was that he believed that your Grandfather covered up your mother’s murder and portrayed it as a car accident. Things stayed the same for a couple days, perhaps unsurprisingly it took you a while to process. It elicited strange feelings for you, you without a doubt knew that your Grandfather was not capable of doing something like that so it wasn’t that. It was more towards your Mother. 

Your whole life you’d been given this rather unrealistic perception of your Mother. Everyone talked about her good qualities, their favorite and fondest memories with her, why she was special, amazing, etc but never anything on the opposite end of the spectrum. Her bad qualities, her annoying habits, her biggest mistakes. And while finding out she was murdered hit you very hard in a rather morbid way you felt more connected to her than ever. Suddenly she was a real person with flaws, issues, and to be blunt people aren’t murdered for no reason. She wasn’t this unmatchable unattainable super amazing person that everyone portrayed her to be. She was just a person, like you. 

And upon finding yourself more connected to her than ever you were also overwhelmed with the feeling of needing to do something. You felt responsible and you felt the weight of that the lack of justice brings and it seemed like no one was doing anything to try and figure out what really happened to her. 

So that left you to do something about it.

Given the limitations of being thirteen, your investigation into this coverup had been taking a while and two months in you knew you needed to enlist some help with this. You’d been trying your best, from what you gathered from Mr. Barba’s first confession is that if you play ball he’s more free with answers. So reluctantly you’s been ‘warming’ up to him and acting as if you were started to get settled, burying your disdain and putting on a charade. Having the investigation to focus on improved things a lot at school and at his place so everyone was under the assumption that you were settling down. School was a lot better, not that your grades ever slipped, but you were back to acting like before this all happened. Acting like you were progressing also meant everyone was less uneasy around you and gave you more freedom, which gave you more freedom to investigate.

You won’t say that what didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. You knew it quite well and you did struggle with it. Pretending to be nice to Mr Barba so he would trust you, so you could investigate, all with the intention that by solving this you could potentially be allowed to go live back home as he claimed that the whole reason he was so unwilling to compromise was because he thought your Grandfather was in on the coverup. Finding out the truth would reveal this not to be the case and maybe you could get him to let you go back home. You felt guilty because he would smile and look so happy whenever you engaged with him positively, you could tell he really believed he was making progress with you. He really believed it and it was all a lie.

The public library was only a quick subway stop away. The library itself was quite busy for a Wednesday morning but then again, you never went to any library other than your school library on a Wednesday morning. It was starting to feel like that everything around was serving as a reminder to remind you that you shouldn’t be here right now. You were technically doing something bad, skipping school, even if you believed you were doing the right thing. Though while you walking in your uniform raised a couple of eyebrows, to your relief that was the extent of the curiosity you aroused. You tried to walk quickly as if trying to make yourself invisible as you headed for the archive room.

It didn’t take you long to find what you were looking for or should you say, who you were looking for. You took a confident towards his turned back before hesitating. There was a high chance that he could refuse you and take you straight back to school. Your confidence dwindled so you opted to just walk past him in hopes that he would notice you.

That didn’t take long either.

“Y/N?” You finally heard his voice say, you’d been caught, “Is that you? Y/N?” 

You turned around slowly and rather reluctantly to face him. You flashed him a nervous smile hesitantly, with a pleading expression to boot. 

“Heyyy,” You let out. 

“What are you doing here?” Will whispered harshly, stepping right up by you so those around you couldn't hear him scolding you, “Why aren’t you in school? Does anyone know you’re here?” 

“No,” You responded, simply. 

“You can’t just skip school whenever you like. I’m taking you back right now and calling…” He began, grasping your arm and gently starting to pull you towards the door. 

“No, you can’t,” You insisted, in a hushed tone, stopping and shaking his hand off you, “I came here to see you,” 

“How did you know I would even be here and why didn’t you just call?” He began to ask, confusion written all over his features. 

You looked around nervously before pulling him aside out of earshot of all the people milling around you. 

“I need your help and…you’re the only one I trust right now,” You admitted. 

“With what?” He asked, confusion turning to concern, “Are you okay, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know anymore,” You confessed truthfully, “That’s why I need your help. I need you to help me find out the truth about what really happened to my Mom,” 

“What are you talking about? Your Mom…” He began, looking taken aback for a second before looking confused. 

“You can’t keep avoiding this,” You whispered. 

“Oh Y/N,” He breathed, not meeting your eyes. 

“That’s why I need your help, come on,” You sighed before grabbing his arm and dragging him along with you. 

“Where are we going?” He whispered, stumbling along with you. 

“The private study room. I booked it for the next couple hours,” You responded, continuing to guide him along. 

“Of course you did,” He commented, “How did you know I was here?” 

“I called your office and they said you went to the Library every Wednesday morning to read the latest law reviews,” You shrugged, stopping at the door and opening it for him to step inside. 

“You’re telling me that my assistant just told you exactly where I was?” He probed, skeptically

“I did pretend to be your mother if I’m being honest,” You confessed with yet another shrug, “Come take a seat,” 

“You know I could take you straight back to school,” He pointed out, taking seat heavily as you settled yourself across the table. 

“Then why aren’t you?” You asked, tilting your head at him in curiosity. 

“Because I know you and I know you’ll do this no matter what I do,” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

“I haven’t been avoiding you, Y/N. Just you finding out has brought up all the emotions of when I found out what really happened to your Mom. I guess I’m not as over it as I thought,” 

“You always used to talk about it as if you were there when it happened,” 

“Yeah, that’s because it was easier than admitting the truth. When your Mom died we were in the middle of a massive argument and I had stormed off and skipped that security detail that day because I was so mad. I heard over the scanner that there was an officer down where I was supposed to be. So while mopping in a bar your mom was murdered. I should have been there and when I arrived they told me it was an accident and I believed them because theses people it was my colleagues. It was only a few years ago when I found out the truth. I was going to therapy because even after all that time I was carrying so much guilt and I used my connections and I got the actual case file and it just wasn’t what the media reported.” He explained sadly, clenching his fist and unclenching as he spoke, his breathing heavy and his eyes cloudy. 

“It’s not your fault,” You comforted. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” He acknowledged, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t quite believe your words. 

“And you didn’t do anything with what you found out?” You questioned. 

“What could I do? I’m not a cop anymore and I don’t think the Reagan’s know,” He replied. 

“But that doesn’t make sense, one of them must have pulled the file at least once,” You figured, confused. 

“I’m sure they have…on the system,” He countered, “On the system, it was a car crash. I only found out the truth because I went to official records and pulled all the case material and even there was the file that you can find on the system and at very bottom was the original file. And it was in the restricted section, I only got access because I knew a guy that worked there and even then I had to sign a log and at the time I was the only person who had ever requested to see it. Your Dad must have done that too being an ADA and all and that must be how he found out,” 

“So they really don’t know?” 

“I don’t think so and I wasn’t prepared to in a way let them loose her all over again. At that time they had accepted it, they had moved on…” 

“But they deserve the truth!” You insisted. 

“This will only hurt them, I can promise you that because there aren’t any answers or explanations just more questions which will only cause more grief,” He elaborated for you. 

“So if I figure it out then we can tell them, right?” You asked. 

“It’s not your responsibility Y/N and frankly it’s not your responsibility to do so either. It’s unhealthy…” He started. 

“Then whose responsibly is it?” You sighed, stopping momentarily and sinking back in your chair, “Because they aren’t doing a good enough job,”

“I understand you’re frustrated I am too but it still isn’t your responsibility to figure out,” He insisted, his eyes pleading you to stop, to let it go. 

“I just you need you to understand. If I can figure this out, I might be able to go home,” 

“What do you mean?” He inquired. 

“Mr Barba told me that one of reasons he won’t let me see my family because he thinks my Grandpa had something to do with the coverup so if I prove him wrong he might let me see them properly again or even better yet let me live with them,” You explained, smiling a little just at the thought of being home again. 

“I can understand why he would think that but I’m sure they have no idea what really happened, including your Grandfather,” He confirmed, “But I still don’t think this is a good idea for you to take on,” 

“Why not?” 

“You’re thirteen, Y/N. You’re a child.” 

“Everyone keeps on saying that and I’m sick of it. Being a child doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion or feelings. I’m sick of everyone deciding what’s best for me without even asking me what I think. Do you have any idea what it’s been like over the past four months? I just want to go home even if it means pretending to like that evil man just so he isn’t suspicious, even if it means doing the job that some actual adults should have done. I just want to go home and be normal again. I…just want to go home…” You somewhat exploded, your emotions spilling over and your eyes blurring. 

“Okay,” He finally agreed, circling the table and holding you close, “I still am not happy with you doing this but I also know that you will do it without me even if I don’t agree. 

“So you will help?” You asked, looking up at him as you hugged him hard. 

“I’ll help you prove your Grandpa wasn’t involved in the coverup but not your Mom’s murder, that’s…that’s too far,” He responded, before kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

After that, you proceeded to show him everything you had gathered over the past month or so. You also convinced him to go get his copy of the original case file that he had made secretly to show you from his apartment. He informed you before handing over the file that he taken out all the crime scene photos but he gave it to you none the less, reluctantly though. He watched over you like a hawk as you went through it silently, absorbing the information. As you did it still didn’t register that this person was your Mother, there was no overwhelming feeling of sadness or any other emotion, just determination to figure out it all out.

“Don’t you think that’s rather cruel?” He pointed out, bluntly, after a long silence, “What you’re doing, to Mr. Barba that is.” 

You looked up and locked eyes with him from across the table. His head was tilted to the side as he watched you carefully as if tracking your every move with a form of hesitation as he continued to debate his involvement. You paused for a second, considering his suggestion. 

Before shaking your head and in equal bluntness in your tone, responding, “No,” 

“Really? Do you honestly believe that?” He countered. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” You offered, “But I don’t care. I care about this and only this,” 

“This isn’t you, Y/N” 

“It’s who I am now,” You corrected, dryly, “…It’s who he made me,” 

“You shouldn’t let it do that…You shouldn't let him do that to you, Y/N.” 

You shrugged, “This isn’t about him anymore. It’s about her,” 

“What’s your next move?” He asked. 

“Think you could get me in touch with the original detectives on the case?” You asked. 

“I can try,” He nodded, “But for now, I’m taking you home.” 

“Will you call me when…” 

“Yes,” He confirmed, taking all the evidence off you as you both headed out the door. 

“I know you’re not happy Will,” You commented, nudging him gently. 

“I’m not,” Will sighed, “But not just because of this but also because I didn’t really realize how unhappy you were and still are. I really am sorry for everything that’s happened Y/N,” 

“It’s okay,” You shrugged, faking disregard. 

“But it’s not,” He insisted, “The fact that you’re going to such lengths just to get shot of getting out of living with him. No, this isn’t right.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“That I’m…nothing. I’m just going to take you home and we’ll figure this out together,” He promised.

You nodded in agreement. 

“I’m really glad I have you, Will,” You confessed. 

“I’m glad to have you too kiddo,” He winked, a playful tone sparking in his voice, “It’s going to get better. I promise you,” 

“I almost believe you,” You smirked. 

Later on, you found yourself doing your homework at the kitchen counter as your Grandmother Lucia cooked dinner for you and Mr. Barba who would be coming home at any minute. You were chatting idly, having Will helping you out was making you feel a lot less stressed and heavy. 

“You know your Dad does that same thing you do,” She suddenly stated, causing you to glance up at her.

“What?” You inquired. 

“You both tilt your head to the side when you’re concentrating or reading but you scrunch up your nose when you’re confused. It’s adorable,” She beamed as she continued to cook. 

“My Grandma Mary used to call me her little bunny because of that,” You remembered fondly. 

“What was she like?” Abuela Lucia inquired, “Your other Grandmother?” 

“She was very happy like all of the time happy. It was sort of strange actually, she always used to say that life was too short to waste my time being miserable. She was a terrible cook but really good baker. She always used to compare me to my Mom so I would connect to her. She was definitely the funniest in our family, usually unintentionally, because she acted without thinking a lot, and she was such a badass too. She ran her own business, had five kids and a bunch grandkids and it never seemed to overwhelm her. I don’t think there was anything she couldn't handle. She was really great and I miss her a lot.” You retold briefly, not wanting to make yourself sad by thinking about how much you missed her sometimes, “But Grandpa says that even though we miss her we can be happy knowing that she is with my Mom again. Because my Grandma missed my Mom a lot,” 

“She sounds wonderful,” Abuela Lucia complimented, smiling to herself. 

“Why did you ask?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about how I’m really glad that I get to be your Grandmother after missing out n so much and I just wondering who the person who also got the pleasure was,” 

“Can I ask you a question?” You pondered aloud. 

“Sure,” She encouraged. 

“What was my Abuelo like?” 

You caught her physically tense up but neither of you got to say another word as the buzzer rang out in the apartment, distracting you both. 

“Your Dad’s probably forgotten his keys again,” She joked. 

“I’ll get it,” You offered, hopping off your seat and heading over. 

You swung open the door without really considering who was standing at it.