Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Te amo, cariño.”

With your free hand, you carded your fingers through Rafael’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss.  At the same time, your leg wrapped around his waist, and the change of angle made you moan into his mouth as your orgasm ripped through you.

Rafael wasn’t far behind you.  With a choked gasp of your name, he went rigid and shuddered as his seed poured out of him and into the condom.

The warm water worked its magic on your tired and achy muscles, but it wasn’t powerful enough to soothe the ache in your heart when you woke up alone.  Your phone rang seconds after you finished your breakfast, and a quick glance at the caller ID told you that the timing wasn’t coincidental.

“Good morning, Uncle Winston,” you greeted cheerfully, taking a seat at the dining table.  Without thinking about it, you folded your leg so that it was lying horizontally across the chair and reclined into the seat.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

You sighed.  Ever since you started dating Rafael, your uncle has been very vocal about his dislike for the ADA.  There were pointed comments hidden beneath a thin veil of politeness. 

“Did you enjoy your holiday in Cinque Terre?”

“I’m not surprised you know about that.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”  You could picture your uncle now.  He’d be sitting in his favourite chair in the back room of the Continental with one ankle resting over his knee, a glass of 1926 Macallan scotch in his hand, and his eyebrows pinched together in a frown as he maintained an otherwise blank expression while forcing down his impatience.

“My time in Cinque Terre was nice,” you admitted.  “The weather was beautiful, and I needed the break.”

“You were far from the protection of the Continental.”

You sighed again as the door opened, “We’ve been over this.”

“Humour an old man, my dear.  Let’s go over it again.”

Feeling a presence next to you, you turned your head to see Rafael standing by your side.  The words you were about to utter died in your throat as you gazed blankly at him, and Rafael’s expression quickly became one of concern.

“I thought you left.”  You mouthed.

Rafael’s frown grew more pronounced, and he gestured at the phone in your hand.  “My uncle.”  You whispered, and Rafael made a visible effort not to roll his eyes.

“I can only assume that your delay in responding is because of the return of your boyfriend.” 

“Why am I suddenly having a flashback to when I was fourteen and you said the exact same thing?”

“Because your taste in lovers hasn’t improved since then.”

Rafael shot the phone a withering glare and moved into the kitchen.  At the same time, you sat bolt upright in the chair as a thought occurred to you, “I never told you about Jared.  You only found out because one of your employees reported back to you.  Don’t tell me you had someone keeping an eye on me in Cinque Terre?”

“I didn’t,” Winston’s words came too easily and too clearly.   You cursed yourself for not being specific.  In their own ways, Rafael and Winston had both reinforced the importance of leaving no room for evasive responses.

“While we’re on the subject of your time in Cinque Terre, did you meet anyone interesting?”

In the kitchen, Rafael stiffened when your uncle’s voice came through the speaker slightly louder than earlier.  He knew the hotel proprietor didn’t approve of him, and he also knew that your uncle purposefully raised his voice so Rafael would hear him.  Meanwhile, in the dining room, you put the phone down on the table to massage your temples, “Uncle.  I have no interest in pursuing a relationship when I’m already in one.  I am not in the business of being dishonest.  Nor do I have any intention to cheat on my partner.”

“You would do well to remember that the standards you hold yourself to don’t apply to others.”

“I am aware,” you began carefully.  “I see that all the time as a detective.”

There was a moment of silence before Winston spoke again, “As an apology for being unable to spend your birthday with you, I’ve arranged for a gift to be delivered.”

“You don’t have to do that.  You spoil me enough as it is.”

“And I will continue to do so because I have the means to do so.”

Sensing your unspoken disapproval from the other end of the phone, Winston’s voice changed and became slightly gentler, “It is my duty as your uncle to watch over you.  It is my privilege to spoil you as I see fit.  You work hard to keep the city safe, and you deserve someone to do the same for you.”

Winston ended the call after his speech, and your fingers pressed against your temples again.  Closing your eyes, you just sat in the chair and focused on rubbing circles on the opposite sides of your head.  With a soft but firm touch, two familiar hands replaced your own, and this time when you sighed, it was filled with contentment.

“I thought you’d left,” you repeated.

“I went for a run and stopped by my apartment to grab a few things,” Rafael explained.  “I was hoping to be back before you woke up, and I thought I could make you breakfast.” He dropped a kiss on your cheek.  When he saw a small smile blossoming on your face, he began to trail kisses down your neck.

Rafael guided you to your feet, and the instant you were standing, he pulled you in for a kiss.  When the kiss broke, you rested your forehead against his. “We still need to talk.”  You murmured.

“Lo so, cariño.” Rafael replied.

The moment was ruined when your phone vibrated on the table.  You turned to look at it, worried that it might be Winston again, and with a hand on your chin, Rafael turned your face back to him.

“Let it go to voicemail,” he ordered, resting his thumb on your chin.

Your phone stopped vibrating for approximately two seconds before it started again.  This time, when you checked the caller ID, you could see it was Sonny.

“There’s a case.  I have to go.”

Chapter Text

“Victim was found here,” Sergeant Rolfe announced, pointing to a space near a dumpster.  “Jogger found her twenty minutes ago next to the body, called it in, and then we called you.”

“Alright, let’s set up a perimeter.  No one except us gets through, especially not the media or anyone with a phone,” Liv ordered, glaring distastefully at the assembled crowd.  Some of them already had their phones out and were trying to film the scene.

“Back it up.”  Sonny ushered the crowd back from the scene, and when the tape was put over the scene, he followed you and ducked underneath it.  The other police officer who arrived with Sergeant Rolfe took Sonny’s place.

The victim pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as you approached.  Kneeling, you saw her face for the first time, and your heart cracked.  She couldn’t be more than sixteen.  On her left wrist, you noticed she wore a bracelet with the Norwegian flag as one of the charms.

“Hey.  I’m Detective (Surname), and this is Detective Carisi.  We’re with the Special Crimes Unit.  Can you tell us what happened?”

“What do you think happened?”  She spat, plopping her head on her knees, “I was nearly raped!  Jævla drittsekk!”

“I’m gonna go ahead and guess that last bit wasn’t complimentary.”

“No, it wasn’t.”  You said slowly, “But I don’t think it was aimed at us.”

In unison, you and Sonny gazed at the body in the alley.  “Who stopped him?”

The teenager scoffed and remained silent.

“Hvem stoppa’n?”  You questioned again, refocusing on the person in front of you.

The girl raised her head the tiniest amount, “Tror du jeg hjelper deg bare fordi du snakker norsk?”

“Jeg håpet du ville.”

“Han er en engel, en beskytter.  Verden trenger flere som ham.  Pent kledd, med dress og det hele.  Idioten,” she uttered scornfully, sneering in the dead man’s direction, “hadde null sjanse.  Han trodde han kom til å overraske ham.  Han var død på sekunder.”

“Tusen takk.”

A flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you spotted the paramedics making their way over to the three of you.

“Ambulansepersonellet kommer for å hjelpe deg. Vil du at jeg skal være med deg i ambulansen?”

She blinked at you, then shook her head and switched back to English to reply, “I’m perfectly fine to go in the ambulance by myself.  My angel will be watching over me.”

When the ambulance was gone, Sonny turned to you, waiting for an explanation.  “She called him an angel and said that he dressed nicely.  Formally, actually.”

“Did she say anything about the man who attacked her?”

“She said he thought he had the element of surprise, but he ended up having no chance against her angel, and her attacker was dead in seconds.”

“Whoever her ‘angel’ was, he wanted it to hurt,”  Fin remarked, squatting down next to the dead man.  “I count three gunshot wounds in the chest and two in each knee.” 

“The killer knew what he was doing,” you summarised.

“My guess?  This man’s a professional, but he wasn’t after this man in particular.  Until…”

“This guy forced his hand.”  Sonny finished Fin’s thought.

“Find anything?”  Liv questioned, making her way over to the three of you, with Amanda following closely behind her.  You peered over Liv’s shoulder to see that the crowd hadn’t disbursed much, and a lot of them still had their phones out.  Which left you with three choices.  One: refuse to divulge anything here and reveal it back at the precinct.  You could ask your squad to turn around and reveal the information in the alley, but there was a chance that someone’s microphone in their phone would pick up your conversation, and it would be leaked to the press that way.

Your third option: type everything out on the notes app on your phone and hand it to Liv and Amanda to read.  Out of the three options, this one came with less risk, and something in your gut told you to go with the third alternative.

“Just give me a minute,” you requested.  Wasting no time, you unlocked your phone and typed out everything you could remember from the teenager’s comments about her angel and her attacker to Fin’s assessment of the dead man.

Passing the phone to Liv, she read the note thoroughly and then passed it to Amanda.  When Amanda finished reading it, she handed your phone back to you, and Liv motioned for you to delete the note.

Following your lieutenant’s order, you deleted the note, checked to make sure it was really deleted, and locked your phone.  “We’ll head back to the precinct and discuss this more there.”

“And the press?”  Fin reminded her.

“Leave them to me.”  Liv squared her shoulders and moved to address the crowd.

“Come on, Fin.  I’ll give you and the Lieu a lift back to the precinct.”

Thinking that Sonny was behind you, you followed Amanda and Fin out of the alley.  It was only when you didn’t see Sonny’s shadow covering yours that you turned back to find out what was keeping him.  Sonny appeared to be wrestling with a dilemma, and when he realised you were waiting for him, he forced a smile.

“You guys comin’?” Fin quizzed.

“Go ahead.  We’ll see you back at the 16^th.”

“What was that about?”  You wondered.  Sonny grabbed your arm and led you away from the crowd. 

“Did Barba apologise to you for missin’ your birthday?”  The detective asked, his accent becoming thicker with every word he spoke.

“Sonny—”

“Yes or no?”

You opened your mouth to respond, and at that moment, Sonny seemed to remember where you were.  He shook his head and said nothing else until the two of you were in his car.

“S—”

“Answer the question.”

“No.  He,” the words died in your throat as you tried to find the words to explain that he hadn’t said the words, but he’d made it up to you in other ways.  You really hoped Sonny didn’t probe about what those ‘other ways’ were.  It would be mortifying to explain to your partner that it involved multiple orgasms.

Sonny blew out a breath and raked his hand through his hair.  “Sonny.  What do you need to tell me?”

Steeling himself, Sonny looked you directly in the eyes.  “The reason that he wasn’t at the restaurant was because Yelina came to visit him in his office.  I didn’t catch all the conversation ‘cause I only arrived later to drop off some files, but I heard her sayin’ somethin’ about how it’s ‘not just you and your querida that you need to worry about anymore’.   The way she said querida,” you wrinkled your nose at Sonny’s attempt at the Spanish word, and when he didn’t bat you away like he usually did, you knew this was serious.

“The way she said it, she didn’t mean it out of concern.  She was condescending when she spoke to me.  I think some of that was because she was afraid, and I don’t know how it happened, but Barba ended up taking her out to dinner.  It was only after Amanda mentioned that she hoped you enjoyed your birthday two weeks ago that he remembered, and that’s why he was at the airport, waiting for you last night.”

“He left me waiting at the restaurant because he went out to dinner with his ex and didn’t tell me.  Then he acted like everything was fine when he came to pick me up from the airport last night,” you echoed dully.  Your mind was struggling to process the new information that you were given.

“That must be what Uncle Winston meant when he said about me holding myself to standards that others don’t measure up to.”

Your hands dropped to grab at the edges of the car seat, and your grip was so tight that Sonny could see the whites of your knuckles.

“Sonny, drive.  We’ve got a case to solve.”

The lack of emotion in your voice rattled the detective, but determined to conceal his unease, Sonny started the car.  As he drove the two of you to the precinct, he tried to reassure himself that he’d done the right thing.  He just couldn’t shake the feeling that by choosing to tell you, he’d opened a can of worms and you would be caught in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

“This isn’t making any sense!  There has to be something we’re missing!”  Olivia exclaimed, staring at the evidence board.   Over the past three hours, your team has contributed at least three annotations per person to try to make sense of this messy web of a case.

“I think there are many things that we’re missing,” you complained under your breath as you sat on Sonny’s desk with your hands pressing into the surface.  Your mind kept returning to one phrase the teenage girl said in particular: ‘the idiot had no chance.’

“Maybe he wasn’t meant to.”  You breathed, completing your thought out loud.

“Meant to what?” Amanda piped up from across the aisle, overhearing your comment.

“Our victim said that the person who attempted to rape her—”

“Our dead man.”  Sonny put in, nudging you into moving over so he could sit next to you on his desk.

“Our dead man,” you agreed, bumping him with your shoulder affectionately.  “Had no chance against her ‘angel.’

“So?”

“What if she,” you gestured to the teenager’s photo.  “Wasn’t the target?”

“The dead man went rogue.”  Olivia realised.

“Exactly,” you agreed.  “He was the bait to draw out the angel.  My guess is he found out that he was nothing more than a pawn in the grand scheme of things and decided to take matters into his own hands before his target caught up with him.  But his actions backfired, and he ended up dead, and the angel slipped through the cracks.  I wonder when it dawned on the male victim that he was hopelessly outclassed.”

Sonny ran his fingers through his hair, “Looks like you were right, Fin.  There’s no way this is anything other than premeditated.”

“And here we have Manhattan’s best in the room going above and beyond to keep New Yorkers safe time and time again,” Rafael’s voice floated across the pen, and your mood immediately soured.   Sensing your shift in mood, Sonny wasted no time in hopping off his desk and turning to face the ADA.

“What are you doing here, Barba?”

“Back to last names, Carisi?”  Rafael returned bitingly, and with his customary cup of coffee in his hand, he tried to side-step Sonny to approach you, but Sonny blocked the movement, and seizing the moment, you sped over to the evidence board.

“So this is where you disappeared to, Rafi,” an unwelcomingly familiar, musical voice sang out.

“Great.  Just great.  Here I was thinking that my day couldn’t get any worse.”

“Yelina,” Amanda greeted coolly.  “What brings you by?”

“Rafi was going to take me out to lunch, but insisted that we had to detour here.”  You felt Yelina’s gaze on your back and fought the urge to stiffen and give her the satisfaction of seeing you uncomfortable.  Without even looking at her, you could imagine her profile.  Hair perfectly styled, nails freshly manicured, expensive, tailored clothes, subtle hints of eyeliner, foundation, and concealer to enhance her features, and an attitude that screamed ‘I won’ to anyone who stared at her for more than a second.

If she really wanted to drive her point home, she would have a hand somewhere on Rafael’s body.  Maybe on his arm or shoulder.  Deciding that you couldn’t keep staring at the evidence board and pretending you were focusing on the information on it, you turned around to face her and Rafael.  You threw up in your mouth a little bit when your theory about her touching Rafael was proven to be correct.

“Yelina,” you greeted cordially.  If there was one thing that you learned from Uncle Winston, it was that under no circumstances do you let your manners slip.  Politeness was an underutilised weapon, and because people often underestimated it, using your manners gave you an advantage that you could exploit.

She smiled thinly in your general direction and turned to address Rafael, “You know what would be the best lunch spot?  The little diner five streets away from here," she declared.  “The one that the three of us always went to after school.”

“She might have an appetite, but I’ve lost mine,” Fin muttered out of the corner of his mouth to you.

The flicker of amusement you felt at Fin’s words was enough to distract you from Yelena’s attempt at a power display and fill you with a burst of courage.

“Enjoy your lunch.  If I may offer some advice?”

Yelena stared at you challengingly with a sneer twisting her lips, “What advice could you possibly offer me?”

Mimicking the tone your uncle used when he was dealing with someone particularly unpleasant, you answered her, “It’s been my experience that people who treat others as accessories don’t appreciate it when they are on the receiving end.”

Something shifted in Yelena’s eyes, and her face became expressionless.  Judging by her reaction, you could tell that you struck a nerve, but her lack of response worried you more than you cared to admit.

Out of the two of them, Rafael was the only one who uttered a goodbye.   It seemed strange to you that the determined glint you often saw in his emerald eyes when he was about to tear the defence to shreds in court was in his eyes as he left with Yelina.  Her bold red designer handbag slipped down her shoulder, and she readjusted it immediately without breaking her stride. 

“Yelena didn’t listen to me.  She’s walking in front of Rafael like she doesn’t want to be seen with him unless it's benefiting her, and she wasn’t expecting Rafael to help her adjust her bag either.  Yet the second that he thinks I’m trying to manage too much, he’ll step in and offer to help even when he’s clearly exhausted.  When they dated, did she make him regret offering to help her?  Did she mock him for trying?  Why is her hand still on the strap?  Is she worried someone’s going to steal her bag because it’s valuable?”

“What the hell happened at the end there?”  Amanda wondered out loud when she was sure that the duo was out of the building.

“Oh, good.  You saw that too.  It wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me.”

Chapter Text

Your phone chimed, and flipping it over so the screen was visible, you let out an audible groan when you saw how low your battery was.   Your only working USB port had the connector for your wireless mouse, and if you took it out, that meant that you would have to use the trackpad on your laptop instead.  But the trackpad had a mind of its own and would stop working if you looked at it the wrong way.

“Sonny, can—”

You didn’t need to complete your sentence because your partner stooped down and plucked your nearly dead phone from your lax grip.  In the time that it took you to blink, Sonny plugged your phone into his laptop, and the screen lit up to signal it was charging.

“Thanks, Sonny,” you exhaled gratefully.  “I owe you one.”

“Repay me by not staying too late,” the Italian-American ordered, pointing at you.

“Yeah, yeah.  I promise,” you agreed flippantly.

“I mean it.”  The timbre of Sonny’s voice shifted into something sterner, and this time, when you repeated your vow, you were more sincere with your promise.  Satisfied, Sonny departed with a goodbye and a promise of his own to see everyone tomorrow.  One by one, your teammates left the 16^th precinct, and by the time you were the only one left, the sky had darkened considerably.  Closing the lid of your laptop with a quiet breath, you rose to your feet, stretched out your cramped limbs, and gathered all your belongings.

You were halfway out the door when your brain reminded you about the unspoken rule that the last person to leave for the night had to turn off the lights in the kitchen.  The kitchen was on the same floor as your desk.  Cursing yourself and seriously fighting the impulse to leave the lights on this one time, your conscience won out, and you doubled back.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you abruptly stopped at the glass doors that led to the bullpen.  “I might’ve forgotten about the kitchen lights, but I know that I definitely closed these doors when I left.”

Slipping through the partially open doors, you crept across the floor as silently and as quickly as you dared.  Your back stiffened when you noticed a person sitting at Sonny’s desk trying to unlock your phone.  There was enough light streaming into the pen from the kitchen for you to see an expensive red handbag sitting on your desk.

Removing your gun from its holster, you cradled the barrel, and in the strongest voice you could muster, you called out to the masked stranger, “NYPD, put your hands in the air and step away from the desk!”

Startled by the unexpected noise, the stranger leapt to their feet, withdrawing their own gun.  Your eyes widened as they squeezed the trigger, and you dove to the right, using the waist-high partition as cover.  Three bullets thudded into the metal just above your head.  The fourth and fifth slammed into the glass above you, shattering it instantly.

Reflexively, you threw up your free hand to protect your face from the shards of glass, and, wincing at the loud noise and the ringing in your ears, you listened for any sign that your opponent was on the move or reloading their gun.

“And of course, I’m not wearing my bulletproof vest, am I?  For fuck’s sake!”

Another bullet slammed into the partition, and taking a chance, you extended your arm to return fire.  That was a bad decision.

White-hot pain blossomed in your upper arm, and as you watched in shock, the wound began to bleed.  You bit down hard on your tongue to distract yourself from the pain as you tossed the gun to your other hand and squeezed the trigger.  The bullet found its target with a thud, and you felt a stab of triumph at your success.  Not wasting any time, you fired in the same direction again and were rewarded with an agonised howl.

Your opponent’s gun fell onto the tiled floor with a clatter, and rising painfully to your feet with your injured arm cradled protectively to your side, you stepped around the partition to assess your opponent.

Quickly scanning them, you observed they had no other weapons concealed on their body.  Which was a relief, but it also worried you because they were confident enough to believe that they’d be able to shoot you and flee the scene with no one being the wiser.  Drawing level with the discarded gun, you kicked it to the side.  The force of your kick was enough to send it skittering underneath Amanda’s desk.

Your bullets had caught your would-be killer in the shoulder and the hip.  Keeping an eye on your fallen assailant and squashing down the satisfaction that reared its ugly head again, you strode purposefully over to Sonny’s desk.  Without breaking eye contact with the assassin, you unlocked your phone and called for a bus.  Seeing your attacker’s uninjured leg bend at the knee and realising what they were planning to do within a split second, you ended the call and nimbly stepped out of reach.  When their attack failed, they threw their head back against the tiles.  At first, you thought they were going to react as you did with the still operating kitchen light and growl out of frustration, but when they repeated the movement, you changed your mind.  Regretting your haste in ending the call, you threw yourself onto the other person, pinning them to the ground and restricting their movements.  “Stop it!”  You cried, grabbing their hands using your uninjured arm and reaching for your handcuffs with the other.

Because of the scuffle and their fall, their balaclava had ridden up slightly.  Not enough for you to see their entire face, but enough for you to see the bottom half of it.  The hired gun curled their lips in a smirk and headbutted you.  Stars erupted in your vision, and you reared backwards, but your weight was still pinning them to the ground.  Dazed, you tried to regain your bearings and your balance.  Reeling from shock, your mind tried to figure out why it felt like they were holding back with their headbutt when a shot rang out.  The bullet slammed into the floor next to the assassin’s head, and it dawned on you the amount of danger you put yourself in.

Scrambling backwards, you frantically searched for any hidden crevice to locate where the shooter could have fired from.  Behind you, the attacker jumped to their feet as well, disregarding their wounds in their haste to locate the mysterious arrival.  This time, when another shot rang out, your almost executioner crumbled to the floor in a messy heap with a bullet wound between their eyes.

Your breath whooshed out of you, and the stabbing pain in your arm nearly overwhelmed you.  Reaching out to Sonny’s desk to steady yourself, your hand instead brushed against a softer surface, and a hand shot out to steady you by grabbing you by the elbow on your uninjured arm.

“Shit,” you breathed as your legs wobbled and your weary eyes stared into a pair of concerned ochre orbs.

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“It’s not too deep.  You’re lucky.” 

“Lucky that you were here to take that shot, or lucky that you’re not going to tell Uncle Winston about me throwing myself onto the dead assassin over there?”

Strands of hair fell across John’s forehead as he worked to stitch you up after removing the bullet, and aside from a tiny, amused snort, he offered no reply.  You flinched at the sound of the glass doors creaking open further, and it was only because of John’s hand pressing down on your shoulder above your injury that you didn’t jump out of the chair.

“It’s just Dog.”  He informed you.

“Dog?”

A whuff answered your perplexed question, and a relaxed Pitbull trotted over to John.  Despite the pain you were in, you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing over the dog’s cuteness.  Dog’s ears perked up, and with a lolling grin, the pup’s tail began to wag excitedly.

“Careful, boy.  She’s hurt.”

The pup cocked his head to the side and let out a whine.  “I’ve done all I can,” John replied.  You frowned at his odd-sounding response until you heard the sirens in the distance.  Dog raised a paw to scratch at John’s leg, and when John didn’t move, the pup huffed and padded over to where your phone was still connected to Sonny’s laptop.  With more care than you expected, Dog pulled your phone off the cable and scampered over to you proudly.  He dropped your phone in your lap and returned to his owner’s side.  Dog whined again, and you looked pleadingly at John, “Before you leave, can I pat him?  After that, he deserves all the pets.  Thank you, Dog.”

“Another time,” John promised gruffly as his pup yipped happily.  “Don’t want the examination to leave you with any hard-to-answer questions.”

You kicked yourself for forgetting that you would be examined by the paramedics.  Speaking of examinations, Liv would insist on coming to the precinct to view the scene for herself.  The rest of the squad wouldn’t be far behind, and you cringed at the thought of Rafael and Yelena turning up at the scene to see you like this.  Their lunch date had to be finished by now, right?  On the other hand, if they were still on their date, there was a slim chance that they’d be so busy reminiscing that he wouldn’t be able to answer the call.  Unwillingly, your gaze flitted up over to your desk, where the red handbag still sat undisturbed as if nothing had happened.

“If that handbag stays here, it’ll become evidence.”

John scratched Dog underneath his chin.  His suit jacket caught on his gun holster with the movement, and you noticed that the holstered gun was exactly the same as yours.  Straightening up, John and Dog walked through the glass doors.  The pup made no noise as he was led away from you, and you hoped you weren’t imagining things when you noticed that the wag of his tail seemed slower and more dejected than it had been earlier.

Hauling yourself to your feet and stowing your phone in your pocket, you stood to greet the paramedics and prepared to explain the series of events to your Lieutenant.  Liv burst through the glass doors, and you had a second to hope that John and Dog had made it out before she was in front of you.

“Where are you hurt?”

“Upper right arm.  It-I-”

“Don’t talk!  I need a medic!  Officer wounded.”

Accompanied by a junior detective, one of the paramedics made their way over to you and Liv.  Your Lieutenant gestured for you to sit down, and feeling the exhaustion creep back in, you obeyed.  In the throng of paramedics and detectives, you glimpsed Sonny, Amanda, and Fin.  Your heart somersaulted when you spotted Rafael dodging paramedics and making his way over to you without Yelena.

“This wound is partially treated.  She do this herself?”  The junior detective remarked while the paramedic cleaned the wound and checked the stitches. 

“Don’t talk about her like she’s not directly in front of you!” Rafael seethed.

“I lost blood, but I can still talk,” you uttered snappishly at the same time.  The worried crease between Rafael’s brows eased slightly, but he still stared angrily at the detective.  With a jolt, you realised it was the same, steely expression that you saw him wearing when he left with Yelena.  Then she adjusted her handbag....

“The handbag!”  You thought, grimacing at the pain that lanced up and down your arm. 

“Liv, when I came back to turn off the kitchen light, that red handbag was sitting on my desk.  I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet.”  The words left you in a loud, panicked rush.   You tried to stand up and grab the offending bag off your desk, but one look from Liv had you rethinking that choice.

“There isn’t much more for me to do.”  The paramedic announced, rising to her feet and motioning for her colleague to come and examine the dead body.  “You’ve done a good job patching yourself up.”

You forced a smile, unwilling to admit the truth and not knowing how to respond to the compliment.  “I’d advise trying to avoid a repeat of this, but in your line of work, that’s nothing more than wasted breath and wishful thinking.”

Your smile turned genuine at her comment.  “My sense of humour is really messed up.  Or that could just be the blood loss kicking in.”

“I’d recommend someone keeping an eye on you for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”

The words barely passed her lips before Rafael was volunteering to watch over you.  With a pout on your face, you slumped in your seat; in the past, when you were sick with colds and flu, while you were grateful for Rafael’s care, he was unexpectedly strict when it came to not overexerting yourself. 

“Watch for signs of disorientation, fatigue, and loss of motor control.  Also, be on the lookout for increased or unusual sensitivity to noise and light, and lack of appetite and motivation.”  She instructed Rafael.

Addressing you, the paramedic informed you that when you returned to work, you should only focus on attempting light duties.  At her words, you let out a sound that was a mix of a sniff and a groan.  Light duties meant being confined to your desk, which meant you would be doing paperwork.

The ADA eased you to your feet and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side.  Gesturing as much as your wounded arm would permit you to, you pointed out to Liv that your attempted killer’s gun was underneath Amanda’s desk.  At some point, Amanda, Fin, and Sonny managed to push their way to the front of the crowd, and when Amanda overheard where the gun had slid to, she shot the gun a contemptuous look and asked if she could use your desk while you rested.

You wasted no time in agreeing to her request.  Thinking quickly, Sonny pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Your questions will wait, Carisi.”

“You know they can’t, Barba.”

“Make an exception.  Now.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, resting your hand on his forearm, feeling the tension in his muscles.  “I’ll tell you everything I can remember, and if there’s anything I forget, you can check the cameras.”

“SHIT!”  You scolded yourself the second the words left your mouth.  “JOHN WILL SHOW UP ON THE CAMERAS!  THEY’LL SHOW HIM ENTERING AND EXITING WITH DOG!”

Fin shook his head, “The cameras outside the precinct were disabled.  Probably by your would-be-killer over there,” he motioned with disgust to the now covered body.  You did your best to keep your face blank, but on the inside, your emotions were a mess.  The NYPD wouldn’t find out that John was the one who shot the person who was tasked with silencing you, but that meant that they wouldn’t show up on the cameras either, and it would be harder to discover their motive for attempting to kill you.

Amanda instructed the crowd to leave, and Sonny waited until the paramedics had also left before he launched into his questions.  You recounted how you were the last one to leave, how you remembered about turning off the kitchen light, and the events that unfolded after that.  When it came to explaining how your almost assassin died, you choked up, and Sonny’s pen froze on the page.

“We can figure out the rest from forensics and ballistics,” he offered kindly.  “Go home and get some rest.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said all night that makes sense, Carisi.”