Chapter Text
She’d barely looked him in the eye since their falling out, but before letting him leave the apartment with Noah she’d put her hand on Barba’s arm, looked him dead in the eyes, and said, “You’ll keep him safe, Rafael? There’s been so much violence…”
Knowing he couldn’t promise certainty—the world was too unpredictable, and Liv was too smart—Barba had said what he could. “I’ll protect him with my life.”
She’d smiled, maybe a bit sadly, and said, “I know you would. Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Perking up for Noah’s benefit as the boy came up beside her, she’d added, “I really appreciate you taking him. I wanted to, but we’ve got this case and I just can’t.”
“I’m happy to do it,” Barba had answered, smiling at Noah. “You ready to go, buddy?”
“Can I take my flag?” Noah asked, holding up the small flag with pink, purple, and blue stripes. His hand was curled tightly around the narrow stick like he was afraid someone might try to wrest it away from him.
“You can bring anything you want,” Barba assured him. “I’ve got a pin you can borrow, or we can buy stuff at the vendors, but it’s all up to you.”
Taking Noah to his first pride parade wasn’t something Barba had ever expected to fall onto his plate, but he hadn’t hesitated when Liv had called to ask him. Not only did he miss spending time with Noah, he knew some of the things the boy might be feeling—even if the world had changed significantly since Barba was Noah’s age.
Liv had seemed unsure at first, but Barba’s ready acceptance had put her mind at ease, and it meant a lot to him that despite her personal feelings for Barba lately she trusted him to do this for her son.
And now, three hours later, Barba was returning Noah home and the boy was happy, healthy, and well-fed on hot dogs, pretzels, cotton candy, and funnel cake. He had bi pride flags painted on both cheeks. His face, and especially nose, was a little sunburned, and his hands were sticky and dirty, and his sweaty curls were plastered to his forehead, but he was beaming .
As soon as they walked into the apartment, Noah called, “Mom!”
She appeared in her bedroom doorway, face lighting with a smile when she saw her son. “Hey, honey. Did you have a good time?”
“It was so much fun!” Noah exclaimed as he hurried over to hug her, and she flashed Barba a quick smile.
Barba was hovering near the door, because she was dressed in a tight blue dress that rode high on her thighs and scooped low across the swell of her breasts. Her hair was done up, and her makeup was thicker than usual. She looked good, but not exactly like herself.
“Are you leaving again?” Noah asked, because she certainly wasn’t dressed to settle in for the evening.
“I have to work,” she said, pushing his soggy curls back to look at his face. She touched a thumb to his nose. “You got a little red, huh?”
“You’re going back to work now?”
“Sorry, honey. Lucy’ll be here any minute and she’s gonna get you some dinner, and I’ll be—”
“I’m not hungry, I got food with Uncle Rafa,” Noah said. “How late until you’re—” He stopped as Elliot Stabler appeared in the bedroom doorway behind Liv. The detective was wearing dark suit pants and was buttoning his white shirt. He had a tie hanging undone around his neck.
“Hey, sport,” Elliot said, flashing Noah a smile.
“Hi,” Noah answered without enthusiasm. His palpable excitement from just minutes ago had already vanished, and he turned to walk over to the sofa.
Elliot looked at Barba. “I would’ve taken him myself, but I doubt I’d be welcome there.”
“No cops at pride?” Barba suggested, keeping his tone as polite as possible. He’d begun to regret following Noah into the apartment; he should’ve said goodbye at the door.
“I mean obviously straight.”
Barba snorted and cocked an eyebrow, giving Elliot a quick once-over. “Oh—You’re serious? You think—”
“He didn’t mean it like that,” Liv cut in quickly, giving Elliot a warning look.
“Alright,” Barba agreed mildly. He reached for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll just—”
“Wait, can I talk to you for a minute?” Liv said. She gestured behind herself toward the bedroom. “Alone?”
He knew it would probably be in his own best interest to refuse and make a quiet escape, but he’d never been good at refusing her anything—and he was still fervently hoping to repair their friendship, despite the complication of Elliot Stabler—so Barba nodded once and started toward her.
“Come on, champ, I’ll show you how to tie a tie,” Elliot said, walking into the living room and motioning for Noah.
“I know how,” Noah answered as Barba followed Liv into her bedroom.
She closed the door and Barba glanced around the room before turning to face her. She seemed uncomfortable, unusually fidgety, but she said, “I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you taking Noah today. He seems like he had a great afternoon and it means a lot that you agreed in spite of how…things have been lately.”
“Things in the world or things between you and me?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer, continuing, “Like I said, I’m happy to do it. Thank you for trusting me, despite how things have been lately.”
She walked past him, crossing toward the dresser. “No matter how supportive I want to be, there are things you can probably understand better than I can. Noah doesn’t have a lot of adults in his life who’ll talk to him like an equal, and he trusts you and your opinions. He’s been having a rough time in school, a lot of bullies, his mood has been…” She picked up a necklace and turned to face him. “I would never ask you to betray any confidence, but I know you would tell me if there was something I need to worry about.”
Barba nodded once.
She pulled the necklace up to her throat, pushing her hair aside. “He’s got a dance recital on Saturday and a baseball game on Sunday. I’m not sure if he already invited you…”
“He did. Do you need help with that?” he asked, studiously keeping his eyes away from the swell of her breasts as they tried to escape the top of her dress.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” she said as she finally managed to get the necklace clasp closed. “We’ve got an undercover…thing…” She gave her head a little shake and focused on Barba. “I just wanted to invite you, too, in case you didn’t feel…”
“Welcome?”
“Right. Obviously if you’re busy you don’t have to show up, or certainly not to both, but I wanted to make sure you know you’re welcome in his life.”
“In his life.”
“In our lives,” she amended, but he could see the wariness in her tired gaze.
“Before you make that decision, can I offer a piece of unsolicited advice?”
She smiled, and it was surprisingly affectionate despite her accompanying words: “Can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”
“Comments like those of your detective friend can be a lot more damaging than you might realize.”
“Elliot would never say anything to hurt Noah. He’s just…prickly around you.” Her tone added what her words didn’t: and with good reason.
“I don’t care about pricks,” he said, noting the way her expression tightened with a distinct lack of amusement, “but I do know that school isn’t the only place for a kid to have bullies.”
“Elliot isn’t a—” She stopped and drew a breath. “I don’t have time to argue with you, I just wanted to thank you for today. I’ll save you a seat at his recital if you think you’ll make it?”
Barba nodded. “I’ll be there.” With his eyes on her face, he gestured toward her chest and said, “Your wire is showing. I’ll let you finish getting ready.” He turned away as she looked down at herself.
“I knew we should’ve gone with thigh,” she muttered behind him, and he was glad she couldn’t see his grimace at the second pronoun.
Barba walked out and pulled the door almost-closed behind himself, but he hesitated in surprise when he saw Noah and Stabler near the dining table. Stabler had hold of Noah’s wrist and was bent down, saying something near Noah’s face. Noah jerked his arm free.
For a moment, Barba thought Stabler was going to hit him. Barba’s stomach clenched tight and he stepped forward, but the moment was already gone and Stabler was straightening away from the boy.
Stabler glanced at Barba and, with a fake smile spreading his lips, told Noah: “Go wash your hands.”
“I don’t—” Noah started.
“Go wash your hands,” Stabler repeated, giving the boy a hard look that Barba didn’t like. “And your face, you’re covered in crap.”
“I’m not washing off my flags,” Noah said. His chin had gone up a notch even though there was a tremor running through his voice.
“I’m not talking about those, I mean whatever all the sticky shit is.”
Noah turned to stalk away. His fists were clenched at his sides and his eyes were shining too brightly. He wasn’t looking at Barba as he walked toward the bathroom.
“Hey, buddy,” Barba said, “I’m taking off. You feeling alright?”
“Yeah,” Noah muttered, still not looking at him.
“Noah,” Barba said.
The boy stopped walking and met his eyes warily.
“I’ll see you Saturday at your recital.”
Noah perked up a little at that, and said, “You’re sure you can come?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t miss it,” Barba answered. He searched Noah’s face, looking for a glimpse of the happy kid he’d been fifteen minutes ago. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“Thanks for taking me!” Noah said. Some of his enthusiasm had waned, but there was no doubting his sincerity. After a moment’s hesitation, Noah surged forward and threw his arms around Barba’s waist. “I love you, Uncle Rafa,” he said, the words muffled against Barba’s shirt.
Barba put one arm around the boy’s shoulders and his other hand on Noah’s head. “Love you too, mijo,” he answered quietly.
“Noah, honey,” Liv said, opening her bedroom doorway behind Barba, “go get washed up, alright? Lucy should be here any minute and she’s bringing takeout for the two of you.”
“See you Saturday,” Barba said as Noah drew away, and Noah nodded. Barba glanced over his shoulder at Liv. “See you,” he repeated.
“Thanks, Rafael,” she answered, and Barba headed toward the door.
“Bye,” Stabler said with barely-disguised sarcasm.
“Have a good evening, Detective,” Barba responded coolly as he let himself out of the apartment.
***
“Hey,” she said, and Barba was pleasantly surprised by the lack of wariness in her expression when she offered him a smile. It might not be exactly like old times, but at least she seemed almost glad to see him.
“Hi,” he answered, eyeing the empty seat beside hers that she was clearly saving with her jacket.
“This is for you,” she said with a gesture toward the chair, “but can you do me a favor and go check on Noah? He’s in the boys’ room getting changed and he’s supposed to be on in fifteen minutes, but his friend Gable said he’s upset and doesn’t want to dance. I can’t go in after him and he won’t answer his phone.”
“Okay,” Barba said as he digested this onslaught of information. She was clearly worried but not panicked, which was encouraging. “Sure. Which way?” When she pointed, he glanced in that direction and met her eyes again. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”
Barba found the locker room easily enough, but he hesitated outside. A strange man wandering into a room where boys might be changing clothes should give people pause, but no one was paying him any attention.
A teenager walked out of the room, and Barba said, “Oh, hey, I’m looking for Noah Benson, do you know if he’s in there?”
“Yeah,” the kid said with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Sounds like he’s crying, I dunno.”
Barba felt a flash of irritation at the lack of concern.
“You can go in, he’s the only one in there,” the kid said with another shrug before walking away.
Barba walked into the locker room. “Noah?” he called, because the place seemed deserted.
There was a long pause, and then a small, wet voice asked, “Uncle Rafa?”
“Yeah, buddy, where are you? Everything alright?”
After another hesitation, Barba heard the sliding lock on one of the bathroom stalls around the corner, and then Noah walked into sight. He was dressed in his dance uniform but his hair was a mess and his face was splotchy. He’d wiped the tears from his eyes, but Barba could still see the glistening sheen on his cheeks.
“Mom sent you after me?”
“She’s worried, your friend said you don’t want to perform?”
Noah shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
“Listen, I know I’m supposed to tell you that everyone is counting on you and you made a commitment and whatever, but honestly? I couldn’t care less about anyone else, so if you don’t want to dance then I’m on your side.”
Noah’s gaze slid back up to Barba’s. “I do wanna,” he insisted. “But I can’t.” He was going to cry again, and his fingers were twisting in the bottom of his shirt.
“Are you sick? Hurt?” Barba asked.
Noah shook his head, but the denial was unconvincing. “I can’t tell you,” he said, barely audible.
Barba debated for a few more moments before walking over to sit on one of the benches that ran parallel to the banks of lockers. “Come here, please,” he said, and Noah crossed reluctantly toward him.
The boy stopped in front of Barba, and they were at eye level as they regarded each other. Noah was holding himself oddly, with his left shoulder a little higher than his right and his head tilted almost-imperceptibly to his left.
Noah was wearing black leggings and a scoop-neck white tank top, the same outfit as all the boys in the recital; Barba had seen several of the kids heading toward the backstage area when he’d entered the building.
Barba reached out a hand and hesitated when Noah’s posture tensed. He didn’t flinch away, exactly, but his shoulder went a little higher and everything in his body language made Barba’s gut ache for the kid.
“May I touch your shoulder?” Barba asked.
Noah’s lip trembled and his face started to crumple in on itself. “You can’t tell Mom,” he said in an unsteady voice that brought the burn of tears to Barba’s eyes and nose.
Noah hadn’t exactly given permission, but he also hadn’t refused, and he didn’t pull away when Barba slowly and carefully lifted aside the left strap of Noah’s shirt to reveal the dark bruises that bloomed down toward his collarbone.
“Jesus, honey, who did this?” Barba asked, barely able to get enough air behind the words. He wanted to gather Noah into a tight hug and promise he’d never be hurt again, but he also wanted to punch something, someone, and he didn’t know where to direct his anger.
“Don’t tell Mom,” Noah begged. “She’ll be sad.”
“Someone needs to be held accountable for this.”
“It’s just a bully,” Noah said. “Please promise, Uncle Rafa!”
“Noah, your mom wants more than anything to keep you safe. If you tell her who’s—”
“I can handle it!” Noah said, and there was a touch of panic that made his voice sharp. Barba winced, not because of Noah’s tone but the familiarity of those words. How many times had Barba himself said some version of them as a kid? “But I can’t dance.”
“Does it hurt to move your arm?”
“No, I mean ‘cause she’ll see! I can’t wear this shirt—”
“Oh,” Barba said as he realized what Noah was saying. “No, buddy, you really can’t see the bruises, only a tiny little bit poking out.”
“You saw,” Noah accused, stopping short of actually calling Barba a liar.
“No, I was looking because I could tell by the way you were standing. I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. Your shirt covers all of it except a tiny bit.”
“Oh…” Noah sniffled and swiped his arm across his nose. “You’re not lying?” he finally asked.
“No. Your mom might notice if she’s right in front of you like I am, but nobody will see when you’re onstage.”
“Promise?”
Barba hesitated. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Noah hiding injuries from his mother, or with the possibility of Noah dancing when he might be hurt. “I promise no one would be able to see them from the audience, but I need to know you’re not seriously hurt. Can you lift your arms up?”
Noah raised both arms without any signs of struggle. “It doesn’t hurt very much,” he said. “Honest, it’s okay.”
“Noah, I think you should talk to your mom about how this happened. Give her a chance to help you.”
“You can’t tell!”
“No, I’m not going to,” Barba assured him, despite the acid in his stomach. “But Noah, listen very carefully. Nobody has a right to touch you without your permission and nobody should get away with hurting you. If you talk to your mom, she’ll do everything she can to make sure someone is held accountable. Do you understand?”
Noah nodded. “You won’t tell, though.”
Barba suppressed a sigh. “I won’t tell if you promise me you’ll think about talking it over with Liv.”
“Okay,” Noah said, a bit too quickly to be convincing. “Promise. Okay, I gotta go.” He adjusted his shirt into place. “It’s okay?”
“Look at me, Noah. Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re alright.”
“I’m fine, honest! Are you gonna stay and watch?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you after the show. Merde, kid,” he added, and Noah’s face split into a grin.
By the time Barba got back to his seat, a woman was onstage announcing the upcoming routines. Liv moved her jacket and mouthed Is he okay?
Barba sat beside her and whispered, “He should be ready to go on,” with a nod toward the stage. He could feel her studying his profile, but she couldn’t press the issue in the quiet theater. Barba felt like an asshole, but he couldn’t lie to her and say Noah was fine when Barba wasn’t sure the kid was fine. He wasn’t willing to break Noah’s trust unless absolutely necessary, though, and Barba didn’t have enough evidence to disregard Noah’s assertions.
When Noah got onstage, he didn’t dance like he was injured. Barba watched in awe—He’d expected the kid to be decent, since he’d been taking lessons for a few years and still seemed to be enjoying the sport, but Noah was more than decent . He was the best dancer in the recital, at least to Barba’s biased eyes.
There was a time when Barba would’ve given anything for the freedom of being allowed onto a stage to express himself, but his childhood had not been meant to include a love of the arts as anything more than a member of the audience. The ghost of little Rafael might be envious of Noah, but Barba was exceptionally proud not only of Noah but of Liv and her dedication to giving Noah the power over his own identity.
Barba glanced over at her and realized she was crying, and he reached out instinctively to cover her hand on her leg. She looked at him and offered a smile, but the sight of tears shimmering in her eyes made Barba’s eyes burn in response. For a moment, just a single fleeting moment, he felt a sense of familia that he hadn’t known in a long time. He knew how it felt to sit beside the woman he loved while they watched their child doing what he loved, and the world had never felt more comfortable against Barba’s skin.
But the moment passed, and Barba gave Liv’s hand one little squeeze before moving his hand to his own leg. Noah could never be his, Liv would never be his, and their family would never be his no matter how much he ached for the possibility.