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Chapter Text

May 29,  2015

Hanging back in the kitchen, Rafael listens to Olivia bidding goodnight to the last of the partiers.  

It’s been a wonderful afternoon, celebrating the adoption of Oliivia’s son Noah.  The baby has lived with her for a year, and this morning, Judge Linden formalized his adoption. Liv’s smile hasn’t faded since.  When Rafael arrived this afternoon, a few minutes after two, she was beaming ear to ear as she carried her new son in her arms.  It’s now almost six, and the baby is sleeping, but his mother is still beaming with that same beautiful smile.

Rafael continues to wrap up the leftovers, snacking as he goes.  He hears the front door shut, and pops the last bite of a cupcake into his mouth, just as Liv enters the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she remarks, still smiling, as she starts to put away the veggie tray.  He’s not sure if she’s referring to his tidying up or eating the cupcake, but decides to believe it’s a compliment.  She smells like flowers and baby formula, and something about the mix causes him to cringe just briefly before focusing again on the happiness she’s experiencing.  He’s known her for a couple of years now, but has never seen her this happy, and he’s convinced she deserves it.  “How’d you think the party went?” she asks.  “You think everyone had a good time?”

He chuckles.  “I’m fairly certain the man of the hour had a fantastic time…so good it knocked him out, huh?”

She laughs.  “Yeah…he enjoyed himself, for sure.”  She pauses, glancing around the apartment.  “I told everyone not to bring presents, but it looks like Santa’s sack exploded in my living room!”

Joining her laughter, he picks up his glass and  finishes the scotch he’s been nursing.  “He’s already very much loved, Olivia,” he muses.  “That’s a good thing.”

Just then, a soft cry interrupts them.  “Be right back,” she says, hurrying down the hallway.

When he first met Olivia Benson, he’d been attracted to her almost immediately.  She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman–smart, classy, attractive, great sense of humor–and the biggest badass detective he’d encountered in his career.  Something about the badassery made her that much harder to resist.  He wasn’t sure if it was because she was so friendly and welcoming, or because he was so drawn to her, but they’d become quick friends and tight work colleagues.  Sure, she was dating some detective at the time, but that hadn’t stopped either of them from meeting for drinks at a local bar to pursue cases. And when she’d been injured on the job–kidnapped and assaulted by a sociopath that had slipped through the court’s fingers–he’d become that much more determined to be there for her in every possible way.  When the boyfriend left a little over a year ago, Rafael quickly, easily, slid into his place…at least in the companion sense.  He’d been there for cases, but also for late night discussions about everything from growing up to growing old.  And when the judge had suggested that Olivia try her hand at fostering the little boy she’s now adopted, he did what he could to convince her it was a great idea.  Sometimes, that meant telling her what an amazing mom she was.  Usually it meant hanging at her house instead of a bar to discuss cases.  Rarely, it included holding the kid for a minute while she grabbed something. 

He tried his best to steel himself in those moments, the ones requiring him to handle her child.  Still, he never mentioned the reason for his awkwardness, and she never asked.  And truly, those were the only uncomfortable moments he’d ever had with her around.

And they’d been growing increasingly closer.  In fact, their friendship now was one that he cherished so greatly he almost hesitated to try to move it forward.  If it didn’t work out, he realized, he would quite likely lose the best friend he’d ever had.  On the other hand…

We’ve got time, he reminds himself again.  No hurry.  Plenty of time to grow this…whatever it is.

“Here we are, Noah,” she coos, kissing the baby’s cheek as she brings him into the kitchen.  Grinning at Rafael, she says, “He still looks so tired!”

Rafael smiles at the baby, who’s eyeing him closely.  “You party hard, Noah,” he teases.  “One day that’ll catch up to you and you’ll learn to slow it down.”

Liv laughs.  “Sounds like Uncle Rafa has a lot to teach you, baby.”

Now Rafael grins, more at her than at the baby.  “I’ll start a book,” he promises.

***

It’s only after he’s finished another scotch that he finally gives in to himself, knowing the entire time it’s a bad idea and he’ll regret it in the morning.  But he hasn’t pulled it out in God knows how long, and seeing Liv with her baby today–with her son –is fucking with him in all sorts of ways tonight.

It takes a few minutes to find it in the bottom of the guest room closet, locked soundly away with all of the “important” documents that are really copies because the real ones are in a safe deposit box at the bank.  It’s small and lightweight; the cover is burgundy, and the bottom right-hand corner, in gold lettering, reads:  Aiden Eduardo Sullivan.

Slowly, he opens the book, sliding his fingers delicately over its contents.  Photographs of a lifetime ago, of he and Lauren both terrified and thrilled, looking younger than he ever remembers feeling.  A sonogram picture, a hospital bracelet.

A photo of his premature son in his hand, seemingly longer than the baby himself.  A photo of tiny Aiden pressed against his young mother’s cheek.  He had taken both photos, in some kind of horrific fascination, before the nurse had come in and scolded them both.  She’d gently laid their son back into his warmer and scared them with threats of death and disability.

He flips through a handful of pages, sipping more scotch, before stopping at the tiny swatch of nearly-black baby hair. His mother had taken it during Aiden’s last hours, insisting to him that both he and Lauren would want it later.  “To remember him,” she’d said.  As if either of them would ever forget.

He fingers it now, the soft, dark strands reminding him more of Liv’s baby than of his own adult hair, despite the fact that Aiden was his.  He wonders if Aiden had survived, would they resemble one another? 

He’s not had the desire to be a father since he watched his own son being lowered into the ground.  Year after year has passed, and he’s grown comfortable with his work becoming his family.  His lover, his children, his life, have all become wrapped up in the courtroom, and he’s been okay with that.  Until today.  Until he saw that smile of Liv’s, beaming ear to ear, and the scent of flowers and formula.  It’s a scent he hasn't smelled since Aiden passed, but it’s still strikingly familiar, and he still identifies it with Lauren.  The scent, the smile.  It’s been so many years.  

Stroking the tendril of baby hair, he wonders how selfish it would be to try again.

Chapter Text

Shifting restlessly from one foot to the other, Rafael presses the bell again.

He’d sent Rollins a brief text earlier, letting her know that he’d be stopping by with the baby’s gift.  He missed the shower in October due to the fact that he’d been tied up with all sorts of motions in the fallout of the Terrence Reynolds case.  That’s what happens when an ADA files charges  against a handful of overzealous cops, he’d learned.  Overzealous cops whose actions resulted in the death of an innocent kid was the part that to this day the NYPD has trouble acknowledging.  Consequently, those charges are still taking up most of his time, even now, whether it’s litigation or the seemingly nonstop threats he’s been receiving.

Regardless, it's a little embarrassing that it’s taken him two months to get over here, but not as embarrassing as not being able to open your front door within ten minutes, he thinks to himself, starting to turn away.  Just then he hears the deadbolts slide, and a second later, Rollins is standing in the doorway, shooting him a glare.  “Don’t you check your texts?” she asks, shifting the baby in her arms to her other shoulder.  “I know you do.  You practically have a love affair with that phone.”

It had never occurred to him that she might text him back, and he pulls out the offending device to check it.  “Two isn’t a good time,” he reads aloud now, feeling stupid.  “Anytime after four would be much better, if you can.”  Looking up at her, he does his best to give her an apologetic grin.  “Sorry, Rollins…it got past me,” he admits.  He doesn’t tell her the reason is because he’s taken to avoiding his texts most of the time these days.  Too many of them are filled with promises of a short life span.

She’s watching him carefully with narrowed eyes, then suddenly her face softens and she nods toward the inside of the apartment.  “Come on in,” she invites him.  “Might as well…they say she should learn to sleep through noise, anyway.”

He steps inside, returning her smile.  “See, Rollins?” he teases, “You didn’t know I was doing you a favor, eh?”

A snort follows his response, and he can’t help but chuckle.  She motions to the couch.  “Have a seat.  Here, put out your arms and hold her for a minute, and I’ll get us some coffee.”  She waits as he awkwardly extends his arms and looks at her with a shocked expression.  “Oh, relax, Barba.  As long as you don’t drop her, she’ll be fine.”  And she deposits the baby in his arms as though it’s nothing.

He wishes he could tell her how very wrong she is.  But the lump in his throat won’t let him speak. 

He looks down at the tiny baby, wrapped in a pink blanket and dressed in a onesie with yellow ducks all over it.  The baby’s eyes are trying to focus, and her tiny hands are rubbing over her face.  He notices the fuzzy hair on the top of her head, a blondish-brown, so different from Aiden’s when he was born.  His was thick and dark, and the first time Lucia saw him, she’d said he was the spitting image of Rafael.

He suddenly realizes that Rollins has been talking to him this whole time.  “I’m sorry?” he responds, and she chuckles, setting the coffee down next to him.  “I was so busy watching your baby that I didn’t hear what you said.”

She takes a seat in the chair next to the couch, where he’s sitting.  “Her name is Jesse,” she remarks, sipping her own coffee.  “Look at you, Barba…I had no idea you were so fascinated with babies.”

“Very funny,” he returns.  “Maybe I was just noticing how similar the two of you are, except for the fact that she hasn’t said a word, and it seems I can never get you to take a hint…”

She shoves his arm playfully.  “Hey, watch it!  I’m holding your offspring here!” he cries, and they both burst into an awkward laughter together that seems to stay for the rest of his visit.  She’s as exhausted as he is, if not more, he realizes, and truly appreciates his company.  Even if it wasn’t the best time in the world to drop by.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she tells him on his way out, waving the hefty gift card he’d given her.  “Both of us need the company…and from the looks of it, so do you!”

“Hey, don’t let my looks fool you,” he returns, raising an eyebrow at her until she bursts into laughter again.  “I promise I’ll check my texts next time!”

“Of course you will,” she agrees, grinning, closing the door behind him.

He’s not a block down the street before his phone vibrates, and he can’t help but grin.  She’s testing him; he knows it.

Good thing it’s not your baby…it’d give us an even better way to make you pay, bastard.

He shoves the phone back into his pocket, and by the grace of God makes it home before he empties his lunch in the toilet.

***

It takes him another six days to finally make the call.

“Are you sure everything is okay, Mr. Barba?” Sarah, the social worker assigned to him, asks.  “It’s not unusual for potential parents to have doubts, and the process can be rigorous and time-consuming.  I know that it’s difficult to wait.  But you seemed so, I don’t know… ready… ”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he repeats, loosening his tie again yet still feeling as though he’s being strangled.  “It’s possible things may change, but for now, I need to rescind my application.”

“All right.”  Her voice sounds heavy, judgmental, and he closes his eyes to blink back tears.  “I wish you the best, Mr. Barba.  Goodbye.”

“Thank you.  Goodbye.”

He ends the call, then searches through his calendar until he finds next Thursday afternoon, where he’d noted the home study they’d agreed to for four p.m.  Slowly, he deletes it, then places a call to his paralegal, Carmen.

“I need you to call deAngelo in the morning and tell him my schedule has changed,” he says dully.  “I’m free at four next Thursday, if he still wants to meet.”

“Okay,” she replies, sounding as though she’s doing something active.  “This is about the cops, right?”

“Yeah,” he confirms.  “We can meet to discuss a plea next Thursday at four, if they’re interested.”

Chapter Text

“He’s asleep,” Liv says quietly, walking through her tiny kitchen and taking a seat next to him on the couch.  “You were pretty good at that, Barba–I never took you as a baby type.”

He smiles awkwardly,  not wanting to pursue this conversation.  Noah’s three–older than Aiden ever was–but Rafael still remembers how to rock a little one to sleep while singing a lullaby. “Well, that just goes to show how tired he was,” he replies, feigning indifference. “Trust me, it’s not the kind of thing I typically practice on the weekend.”  Stacking his files, he slips them into his attaché.  It’s Wednesday night–spaghetti night–and he’s tired, and currently more emotional than he wishes he was.  Wednesdays are their one night together anymore, because she’s been dating Ed Tucker, some guy from IAB that Rafael would prefer not to even look at . “I’ll let you go,” he tells her.  “I know you’ve got to be at least as exhausted as I am…this week’s been  a nightmare.”

She smiles at him, that warmth that connects right to the center of his chest.  Despite the fact she’s been dating someone else and his dreams of getting together have never come to fruition, he loves and admires her as much as he ever has. “You know, you deserve better than pizza and ice cream with a preschooler and his mom on Friday nights,” she teases, but there’s a huge grain of truth in it that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.  This is comfortable, even if it’s only on Wednesdays. They’ve been doing this for far too long, pretending they’re a family on Wednesday nights, when they both know they aren’t and he’s certain nothing will ever come of it.  The roleplaying he’s doing–as a husband, as a father–one night a week has lately turned from pleasant fantasy to painful reminders of what he once thought he’d been promised and what was taken away.  And as it’s slipped from fantasy into cruel truth, he’s come to realize that whatever it is that Ed Tucker has, it’s something he’s lacking.

 On exhausted nights like this, he doesn’t want to be just a friend, and he doesn’t want to date a field of women he has no interest in, no matter how much she encourages him.  So he sighs, then squeezes her hand.  “I’m just too tired for it,” he tells her.  “Dating is exhausting…you know that.  I’m just not cut out for it.”

“So…adopt on your own,” she says, and for a second, he thinks he’s hallucinated.  They’ve never broached this topic. He’s never told her about his son. Never even alluded to him, and he’s shocked, because he’s under the assumption that nearly all of his colleagues–including Benson–think he sees children as an alien species.

“Oh, come on, Barba,” she continues, and for the first time ever, this truth is laid at his feet. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.  You love Noah nearly as much as I do.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out why a perfectly nice, handsome man who desperately wants a child is sitting on my couch without one.” 

She hasn’t missed a beat.  Leave it to Olivia Benson–in literally ten seconds, she’s unveiled one of his biggest secrets and acted as though it were common knowledge.  He swallows hard, feeling his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat, then asks, “What in the world makes you think that I want kids?  I work eighty hours a week, eat most meals at my desk or at a bar, and rarely drink anything not loaded with caffeine or alcohol.  Hell, I go to bed at two and get up at six.  What kind of a parent would I be?” He snorts and shakes his head, hoping he sounds convincing, but one glance at Liv’s face tells him that acting is not his forte.

She smiles softly at him.  “You sound like me, and everything I told everyone before Noah landed in my lap.  Rafa, I’d be happy to vouch for you with any adoption agency–”

“I rescinded my application.”  He blurts it out, surprising both of them in the process.  “Both in Brooklyn and here.  My partner and I were halfway through the process in Brooklyn when things between us fell apart, and we decided not to adopt after all.”  He doesn’t speak another word about Henry.  That’s something best left in the past.  “I was told, though, to give it a year and apply in Manhattan once I was settled here.  I took a couple of years to make sure things were stable, and then I applied again.  It was around the time you adopted Noah.”  He’s staring off at something, a soft smile on his face, and Liv can’t help but smile in response.  “Seeing you with Noah…I don’t know.  It brought up that desire again, for me.” 

“So what happened?” she asks, and his eyes move into focus, looking at her, before he grows silent, then looks down, examining his hands. 

“I just felt…I was concerned for the safety of a child living with me.”  He glances at her again, and can tell immediately that she won’t be satisfied with that answer.  “It was after those cops were charged for the death of Terrence Reynolds,” he explains quietly, calmly.  “I tried to be patient, to tell myself that they were just trying to make sure I understood their position.  But the threats…” Meeting her eyes, he continues.  “It’s one thing to endanger my life with this job, to play reckless and hard.  It’s something completely different to bring a small child into it, and give people like that a helpless target.  I couldn’t do it, so I called the social worker and explained I had changed my mind.”

“Rafael.”  It’s soft, and he prays to God she doesn’t touch him, because he can’t be sure he won’t respond in a way that’s appropriate.  “Life has no guarantees.  You can’t make a decision like adopting based on the fact that something bad might happen.  That’s no way to live.  And somewhere out there, what if there’s a kid who’s waiting for you?  Someone who’s your perfect match?”

He suddenly snorts, then chokes out a laugh.  “You make this sound like Annie,” he says, “and God knows, I’m no Daddy Warbucks.”

They both laugh, softening the tension.  “What about surrogacy?” she suggests.  “Adoption isn’t for everyone, but there’s so many other options now. You must know there are plenty of women who will volunteer their own egg for the process, and agree to carry the baby and sign it over to you once it’s born–”

Shaking his head vehemently, he replies, “Absolutely not, Liv.  I won’t do that, and even if I would, traditional surrogacy arrangements like that are illegal in New York now.  Can you imagine asking a woman to conceive and carry her own child for nine months, then sign it over to a stranger?  There’s something about that, that seems so…so cruel.  I don’t know of any woman who would love that idea, and if I did, I’m not sure I’d want her to be the mother of my child.  Current surrogacy laws require a woman to be implanted with an embryo that is not hers.”  He shook his head again.  “It’s so many steps, the legalese and the technical aspects and financial schedules…and the only thing I seem to have readily available is sperm.”  He rolls his eyes, then rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his knee.

Liv is smirking. “So not only do you need a womb, you need an egg, ripe for fertilization, and the removal of your overactive conscience” she summarizes, and he makes a face until she laughs.  His own awkward laugh follows hers.

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms, but yes,” he agrees.

“Have you asked anyone if they’d be willing to donate an egg?” Her expression is serious, but he’s fighting back the urge to laugh and blush all shades of red.  

“How do I do that, Liv?  And who do I ask?  Do I just walk up to my female friends and say, ‘Hey, would you be willing to give me one of your viable eggs?  I’d like to be a father!’  And what do I say to the women I don’t ask? ‘Sorry, you’re just a bit too old for this’?”

She snickers.  “I guess that’s better than telling them they’re a little too dumb…or not attractive enough.”

Now he rolls his eyes.  “Plus, if I choose a friend, won’t that make every interaction in the future awkward?  Won’t she want to see the child?  What if she doesn’t agree with how I choose to raise the child?”  He sighs.  “I should just give up on all of this.  It’s a bad idea.”

“Well, there’s always egg donor databases.  Then you can go in and choose which one sounds like a good fit for you.”

“And the child will never know anything about his or her mother.  That doesn’t seem quite right either,” he says.  “Yeah, I need to give it up.  It’s all just selfish fantasy on my part–”

Liv squeezes his hand.  “I don’t believe that.  I’ve never known you to be selfish, or to put your desires ahead of everyone else.  I don’t think you’d do it with a child, either.  And Rafael, I think you would make a good father, and I think you’d definitely understand the importance of your role.  I may not have any eggs to share, but if you ever decide to apply again, or to apply elsewhere, I am more than happy to write a letter for you.”

He squeezes her hand back and smiles.  “Thanks Liv.  I appreciate it more than you know.”

Chapter Text

“It’s up to you.  You and his mother.”  Dr. Harding stood with his arms crossed, head slightly bowed.  “I know we’ve been talking about it for a long time, Rafael.  Aiden is lucky…he should have never survived his first winter. We knew this was going to happen eventually…the scarring from each bout of pneumonia has caused his lungs to reach the point they are incredibly vulnerable, and with the RSV on top of it…” He exhaled loudly, then pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against.  “Look, son, I know you’re young, and so is his mother.  You want to believe in miracles.  But the only reason your boy is breathing right now is because there’s a machine in there doing it for him.  His ability to do it himself, to any useful degree, is gone.  And it’s not coming back. The kindest thing you can do for your boy is to let him go, but again, that decision is up to you.”

“That decision is up to God.”  Rafael’s voice was soft but certain, even in the face of the pediatrician who had cared for Aiden since his birth over a year ago.  “God has kept him with us despite the odds.  Who are we, Lauren or I, to say now is his time?  Where there’s life, there’s hope…that’s what we’ve gone with so far, and we’re gonna stick with that now, Dr. Harding.”  He felt Lauren’s hand squeeze his tightly under the table, and suddenly, the quiver of doubt inside of him disappeared.  They had to believe.  It was all that Aiden had, and they knew it.

*****

The knock on his door is loud, demanding, but he takes his time anyway.  He’s not in any hurry to answer anyone’s questions, especially at ten at night. He’s got a flight leaving for Miami in the morning and once he’s there, the immediacy of this nightmare will be over. 

Peering through the peephole, he sighs heavily, then opens the door.  His on-again, off-again lover is standing there, hands on his hips and looking seriously pissed off.  “Sonny,” he sighs again, “why are you here?”

“You really thought you were going to sneak off without at least ending this?” The younger man steps inside of Rafael’s apartment and waits for Rafael to close the door.  Once he does, the fight is on.  “You know, I did what you said, Rafi.  I stayed away from the trial.  I didn’t even call you while you were in court.  I didn’t demand any answers; I gave you your space.  And now I hear from the lieu that you’re leaving town?  Tomorrow?” He crosses his arms in front of him.  “Look, I realize that you may not like to say the L word very often, but we both know you love me and I love you.  Don’t you think you owe me at least a goodbye?”  And then he says the one thing that has haunted Rafael for weeks.  “After all, I’m the only one who knows why you did it, aren’t I? You’re still pretending this is all about your dad with everyone else, aren’t you?”

“I should have never told you,” Rafael replies, then enters the kitchen and sets about making himself a cup of coffee.  Anything.  Anything at all to use his hands, to change the focus from this conversation–

“Rafael.”  Sonny’s followed him, and is standing against the counter, watching him.  His voice is soft, empathic, and Rafael feels the tears in the corners of his eyes.  “You’re a good man.  What happened before doesn’t prove otherwise.  I wish, more than anything, that you’d stop blaming yourself for things that happened when you were seventeen years old. Even more, I wish you’d stop running from people who love you.  You’re entitled to happiness, Rafael.  You’re allowed to love and be loved.”

Rafael’s circling his spoon in his coffee, round and round and round.  Maybe if he keeps doing it long enough, this conversation will be over and the hurt will go away.  Maybe then he can pretend again that he’s a normal man, and not one who was just found not guilty on a charge of Murder Two. 

He remembers standing in the room with the baby’s mother.  He remembers her talking about how her son deserved the peace that death would bring, and he remembers supporting her in that statement.  But she couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t turn off the machine, so he told her to leave.  Calmly, he told her to leave, then he prayed over her baby, the same way he’d prayed over his own.  

Except this time, following his amen, he turned off the machines.

“I didn’t have the courage to do it for Aiden,” he says quietly now.  “Neither Lauren nor I were brave enough.  He suffered off and on for fourteen months before his little body finally wore out.  Don’t you think I know how fucked up that is?” he asks, looking up at Sonny.  “That I could turn off that equipment for a baby I don’t even know, but couldn’t do it for my own son?”  He shakes his head.  “And I’m sure you think I committed a sin.  I should’ve let one more baby live through that pain.  And never mind his mother…”

Sonny steps closer and wraps both arms around the man, holding him as Rafael stiffens silently. It’s incredibly awkward, so Sonny moves back, but he’s determined not to move away.  Tilting Rafael’s face up, he says, “What Lauren did is not your fault either, Rafael.  I’m sure she was in horrific pain, but so were you, and it wasn’t your responsibility to keep her alive.  You had no idea what would happen, what she’d do, and I know it devastates you to this day.”

Rafael’s eyes gaze into his, both watching the other cry. He shouldn’t be here, Rafael’s heart whispers.  It’s too much pain.  It’s too much emptiness…it’s too much.  So he clears his throat and says as firmly as he can, “You need to go.  I’ll give you a call when I get back to the city.”

Sonny makes a face.  “And when will that be?” he asks, although he’s not expecting an answer.  He knows Rafael well enough to doubt that Rafael even knows yet what his answer will be.

Rafael has crossed the space to the front door.  “When I’m ready,” he replies evenly, then opens the door to see Sonny out.  Sonny meanders over slowly, then hooks his thumbs into the front of Rafael’s suspenders.  It’s a move he’s made every time they’ve been intimate, and he watches as Rafael swallows hard and closes his eyes. 

“I don’t care what you’re telling either of us, Rafi,” he says softly.  “I’m in love with you, and I know you feel the same.”  The kiss he offers is gentle and chaste, one of sweetness and respect, before he walks out the door, waiting for it to close behind him.

The soft click both soothes him and breaks his heart.

Chapter Text

“Jenna was right,” Lauren grumbled, dropping into the lawn chair next to Rafael’s.  “Being pregnant during the summer sucks!  It’s so hot out here and I look like Baby Beluga.”

He grinned at her.  No way in hell did she look anything but beautiful to him.  She never had.  He knew, before they began dating, his friends didn’t think she was all that.  And yeah, maybe compared to Yelina Martinez, Lauren wasn’t as built.  Fuck if Alex didn’t spend half his time bragging about all of Yelina’s “assets” to anyone who would listen.  Alex had also been the one to point out that Lauren was shorter and curvier, slightly heavier than some of the other girls.  And, of course, that she was black.  That seemed to be the thing he noticed the most about her.  But all Rafael had seen ever since the first time she’d wiped the debate stage with his ass was how smart and funny she was, how her big brown eyes and long black braids set her apart in beautifully unique ways from the other girls at school.  

“I think you mean you’re the hottest baby beluga out there,” he joked back, suddenly shutting his mouth upon the approach of her mother, Lila.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that, Rafael,” she remarked, narrowing her eyes at him before handing him a can of Coke.  “Fireworks should be starting soon, right over the water.”

Opening the can, he offered it to Lauren first.  “You want some?” he asked, and she took a long drink before handing it back.

“Sorry…drinking for two, y’know,” she told him, then grabbed his hand, pulling it quickly toward her belly.  “Feel that?”

He didn’t.  He never did when she’d pull his hand over excitedly, but she looked so thrilled he couldn’t help but pretend.  “He’s gonna be a soccer player.  Looks like he got more talent than I did!”

She giggled.  “You’re such a dork, Rafi.”  Leaning over, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.  “I love you, papi bear.”

He spent the majority of his time these days terrified and unable to talk about it. Fancy schools and scholarships had been put on hold, and he wasn’t sure now if he’d ever get to Harvard or she to Columbia. But every time she looked at him like that, like he hung the moon, he almost believed they’d get through this unscathed.  He would do anything for her, and she, him.  “Love you too, baby,” he murmured, kissing her knuckles.  “To the moon and back, forever.”

*****

“So how long will you be living here in Hell?” Rita asks, tossing her beach towel onto the couch before she sits on it.  

Rafael smirks, laying his towel more delicately across his favorite chair in the living room.  “Why? Are you saying you don’t enjoy Miami?” he asks, chuckling.  She’s pretty much been in a swimsuit ever since she arrived three days ago, with the exception being the slinky cocktail gown she wore last night when they went to dinner.

“It’s just so fucking hot, Barba,” she whines, fanning herself.  “I don’t know how you stand these temperatures.”  Removing her hat, she pulls her hair into a ponytail and fans at her neck.

“I stay inside mostly,” he tells her, his voice sounding as pragmatic as ever.  “It’s just fine if you’re in the air conditioning.  Of course, an occasional trip to the beach with an out-of-town visitor is fine, too.”  He stands up and heads toward the kitchen.  “Can I get you a glass of wine?  Sangria?”

They’d made a delicious white wine sangria the afternoon before, and there’s still half a pitcher in the fridge.  “Yes, please,” she nods excitedly.  “A nice glass of that.  What are we doing tonight?”

She’s there for the Independence Day holiday, and is planning to leave on the fifth.  He’s taking her to a party with friends on the fourth, but hadn’t planned anything for tonight.  “It’s free,” he says, topping off two wine glasses with the sangria.  “If you’d like, we can walk down to the market and pick up some salmon.  I’ll even cook for you.”

She smiles; it’s the same smile she gives him every time he does something for her.  Rita Calhoun has been shooting him that smile since they were beginning students in law at Harvard.  They’d met on the first day.  She was lost, looking for her first class with her map upside down; he’d been working in the bookstore for three weeks already and knew exactly where she needed to be.  He got one of those smiles that morning so many years ago, and hopes he’ll be receiving them for many years to come.  (They’ve never been in love, but they sure as hell love each other, and he’s learned life is far too short to lose any love you’re given.)

“That sounds terrific,” she says agreeably, “but if you’d rather take a break also, I’m perfectly happy with a pizza.  Surely you South Beach people have pizza, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes.  “Once again, this is not South Beach, Rita.”  Handing her a glass of sangria, he takes a seat back in his chair.  “I’d be living in a dumpster there.  Remember?  I’m not fully employed.”

She waves a hand.  “Yeah, whatever.  Oh!  That reminds me.  I have something for you.”  She stands and heads to the guest bedroom, long legs on display in a way that causes him to admire her all over again.  When she returns, she’s holding a manila envelope.  “Here,” she tells him.  “Since I didn’t see you, Happy Birthday.”

He takes it, looking confused.  “My birthday was in October, Rita.”

She shrugs.  “Fine.  Merry Christmas, then.  Happy Independence Day.  Whatever!  I’m giving you a present.”

He opens the envelope and pulls out several typed pages, stapled together, and begins to read as she enjoys her sangria.

After several minutes, he lays the papers down in his lap.  “I don’t understand,” he says.

“What do you mean, you don’t understand?” she asks him.  “We’re both lawyers.  I did it the right way.  And there, on the last page…that’s the information for the cryobank.”

He sorts through the papers, then looks at her again.  “I don’t understand,” he repeats.  “Why did you do this?”

She sighs, then leans back against the couch.  “You of all people know I’ve never wanted children, Rafael.  I turned fifty in January, as you know, and it occurred to me that my eggs are in there, all just dying off, being wasted…and here you are, one of my closest friends, who desperately needs something that I have too many of.  So I had them do an egg retrieval and freeze what viable eggs they were able to get.  There’s five of them, enough that you may be able to actually create an embryo and implant it in a surrogate.”  As he starts to shake his head, she continues.  “Look, Rafi, I know you.  I know you’re gonna need time to think about it, and you’re not sure what you want to do.  So I had them frozen for ten years.  In ten years, if you haven’t used them, you can decide at that time if you want to release them to the bank or have them destroyed.  It’s up to you.”

He barks a laugh. “And how’s that gonna go if I do what you say–fertilize one of those eggs and have it implanted, and out pops YOUR kid?”

But she shakes her head.  “Not my kid.  Legally, I’ve already given it to you.  You know me, Rafi.  I don’t have a maternal bone in my body.  My own sister doesn’t ask me to babysit because she’s afraid the kid won’t come back breathing.  But you? You want this.”

He looks down at the papers again, but he cannot read the words.  “Do I, Rita?  Is this really what I want?  What if every time I look at the baby, I see Aiden?”

She leans forward and squeezes his arm.  “Then you’ll thank God that you got a second chance in this life.  And you’ll tell Him to bless me.” Raising one eyebrow, she adds, “We both know I need the extra blessings, the way I live!”

He snorts, shakes his head, and she laughs.  “Just think about it,” she says, before picking up his wine glass and asking, “You gonna drink this?”

Chapter Text

“Hey,” he whispered to Lauren, “what’re you doing?”

She glanced up at him from her spot on the bed, next to their sleeping son. “Just watchin’. He’s so beautiful, you know?”

He did know. It was six-month Aiden’s second night at home, something they’d never thought would happen. It all still seemed surreal, and if he hadn’t just spent the last fourteen hours serving coffee to overentitled yuppies on the Upper West side, he’d probably be as enthralled as she was. Instead, he forced a smile. “He looks like his mami,” he complimented, gently sitting on the side of the bed. “Want me to move him to his crib for you?”

“Sure. You look exhausted, baby.” She watched as he carefully scooped up their son, then lay him delicately on his back in the crib near the wall. “Remember to take that blanket out,” she reminded him. “He could smother on it.”

He knew that. He’d sat through the same workshop the doctor sent them to as she had. And he’d had people barking at him all day, telling him what to do and how to do it. But he bit his tongue and grabbed the blanket out of the crib, tossing it into a nearby chair. “I’m exhausted,” he said then, reaching into his drawer and pulling out something to sleep in, then tugging his shirt off and aiming for the hamper but missing by a mile. He left it and collapsed onto the bed next to her.

He expected to hear her bitch at him, to complain what a slob he could be. Instead, he felt a soft hand encompass his and squeeze gently. Feeling his eyes well with tears, he squeezed back.

*****

He can’t believe how beautiful she is.

He hasn't seen Olivia Benson in two years, but she’s as absolutely stunning as she ever was, if not moreso. “So when are you coming back?” she asks, eyes aglow, sweet smile on her face, and he thinks if it weren’t for Lottie, he’d be on a plane to New York by tonight.

“I’ve agreed to stay until everything’s sorted out here with the primaries,” he tells her. It’s close to the truth. “But hopefully I’ll be back by late spring. Hey…when I get back, dinner? My treat.”

“You bet,” she agrees, and he can hear a few voices in the background.

“Take care of yourself, Liv,” he tells her. “Give the squad my regards. Noah, too.” He can’t help but smile at the thought of her little boy. He’d facetimed him just last week, mind blown at how big the boy had gotten.

“Bye, Rafa,” she says with that same smile, and he feels his entire chest warm from the affection in it. He’s incredibly glad he took the chance to skype. It’s hard to know which moments will really be free with Lottie around, and the last thing he wants to do is explain why there’s a random toddler in his apartment. Fortunately, she’s a good napper, and he hasn’t heard a sound from her since he stepped into his bedroom to make the call.

He’s just folded his laptop, ready to put it away, when he sees the doorknob turn, and a moment later it’s open. “I waked up,” she tells him, standing in the doorway in her tee-shirt and jeans, hair slightly askew. “Tan I eat sumpin?”

“Sure, honey,” he tells her, shoving the laptop on the top shelf in his closet so she can’t reach it. She follows him into the kitchen and watches him fix her a sippee cup of water. She’s four, but when she first was placed with him, she only drank from bottles. “Here you go, kiddo,” he says, handing it over. “What would you like to eat? I have bananas, apples, clementines…”

“Dat one!” she exclaims excitedly. Healthy foods are another new discovery at his house, and it’s taken time to convince her that there are tasty things to eat besides chips and cookies. He’s following the pediatrician’s recommendation of introducing new foods one at a time, and clementines first made their appearance a week or so ago. Lottie giggled and proclaimed them “oranges for kids”. He thought the name was appropriate.

Once he’s unpeeled it, he breaks off a few sections and lays them on one of her plates. They wash hands and he joins her at the table, a cup of coffee in his hand.

He’s been in Iowa for roughly six months, and applied to be a foster parent two months ago. He’d been doing legal work on the 2020 primaries, but felt a need to connect somehow. One of his colleagues had recently fostered a child that turned into an adoption, and spoke very highly of her experience.

He knew that no one in their right mind would ever give him a child, especially not after what happened with Drew Householder. But Diana had encouraged him to apply anyway, especially when she heard about the circumstances. “Are you kidding? You gave that baby and his family peace, Rafael. There’s probably an angel sitting on your shoulder right now. At any rate, I don’t know what the legal policies are, but I do know that you’re a good guy. Hell, I’ll vouch for you any day of the week.”

So he’d applied, completed three background checks, a home study, and a brief physical, and he’d been approved. He was required to take a foster parent seminar, and three days after he completed it, his social worker, Elaine Arnold, called. Could he take a four-year old girl with possible special needs? She’d experienced extreme neglect, was underweight and behaved more as though she were two, but she would be provided with weekly therapy sessions, and social services would pay for preschool and daycare while he worked.

He’d said yes immediately, and thirty minutes later, Elaine arrived with a tiny, skinny, dirty little girl who went by Lottie. She was carrying a brand new teddy bear–he recognized it as one the social workers gave out–and was sucking her thumb. Elaine had a light paper bag with her belongings inside, along with a voucher for Walmart worth a hundred dollars. “I’m sorry to have to break you in this way,” she said, “but she has very little. You’ll need to take the voucher to Walmart and buy whatever she needs. There are a few things the state won’t allow–those are listed on the back of the voucher–but the rest of her clothing can be purchased with this. If there’s anything left, you can use it to purchase diapers, since she’s not potty trained yet.”

The last six weeks with Lottie have been a learning experience for both of them. She was learning how to eat healthier foods and drink from a sippy cup. He was learning how to adjust to somebody else’s needs, especially unpredictable ones. He was also learning about the world of Walmart shopping–something he hadn’t done since he was twenty-two. He’d been shocked to learn exactly how much a hundred dollars would buy for a four-year old who wore a size 3T. When Elaine had first handed him the voucher, Rafael had expected to buy the little girl one outfit. He’d been stunned to see racks and racks of clothing for three, four, five dollars; by the end of his shopping trip, Lottie had a complete wardrobe, including shoes, socks, and panties (for whenever she was ready, he told himself).

“Wafi-el, why you drink toffee all da time?” she asks, pointing to his mug as she chews and swallows the last segment of clementine.

He smiles. “Because I like the way it tastes. Do you like clementines and the way they taste?”

She nods. “Dey squishy in my mouf. An’ dey taste wike sunshine!”

Chuckling, he asks, “Are you all finished, or would you like some more?”

“All done,” she tells him. “Are we goin’ to da park now?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answers. “You’re very good at remembering our schedule!”

She’s climbed out of her chair and is pushing it back under the table. Nodding, she asks, “Wafi-el, you fink I’m such a smartass girl, wight?”

He’s not sure where that one’s come from. He knows the things she was called before were more along the line of dumbass, stupid bitch, and fucking cunt. She’s shared that many times. But this, she may have mixed up on her own. “No, not a smartass, sweetheart…I just think you’re a very smart girl! You’re learning all the time, and I can hardly keep up with you.”

She giggles. “Yeah. Tause you gimme food to grow up my brains, wight?”

“You are right. Now let’s get our shoes on so you can play!”

There’s a small park across the street from his apartment, with play equipment for children. It’s a great place for Lottie on days that she doesn’t have school, and when they’re both off, like today, he tries to make sure they spend a little time there.

He remembers a time when the majority of his reading, if not all of it, was about case law or law journals. He’d read scores of articles about how to prosecute people like this little girl’s parents, but he’d never known how to handle the victims, like Lottie. These days, that’s all he seems to read. Articles about how neglect impacts children that are heavy in statistical data, and books about how to talk with children so they feel safe talking with you, that are more pragmatic. He’s read everything from how to create a comfortable bedtime routine to how to entertain children without electronics. He may not be able to keep up with Lottie, but he’s learning.

When they get to the park, Lottie immediately takes off for the swings, her favorite thing in the park, and a moment later he hears what he expects: “Wafi-el! Push me, pwease!”

He heads over to the swings. “Okay, hold on tight!” He pulls her back and up slightly, then lets her go. It’s not long before she’s giggling, and he can’t help but grin. Her giggle is truly one of the happiest sounds in the world.

He tries not to think about how her biological parents probably don’t feel that way.

He knows the mother sees her once a month, on Saturdays, for two hours. Rafael drops her off, then picks her up two hours later. And that night, she always cries at bedtime and begs him to stay with her, at least until she falls asleep. So he does, sitting in a chair by her bed and holding her hand. She still cries herself to sleep, but at least now it’s soft whimpers of sadness instead of the painful screams of angst from six weeks ago. At least it’s not so heartbreaking for either of them.

When it’s finally time to leave the park, he takes her hand to walk home. “Bye bye park,” she says sadly. “I will miss you.” She sniffles a bit.

He kneels down. “Hey Lottie? I know you’re sad to have to leave the park, but we will come back and play again, right?”

Her light blue eyes meet his green ones. “Pwomise, Wafi-el?”

Smiling, he nods. “I promise.”

She holds her arms up for him to carry her, and he picks her up. “I wove you, Wafi-el,” she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re a good guy. My smart brains tell me so. Not my smartass brains, though, wight?”

He kisses her forehead. “Right, kiddo," he tells her. "You’re pretty good yourself, Lottie."

Chapter Text

“Pneumonia?” Lauren echoed the doctor.  “I don’t understand!  How is that even possible–it’s been so warm outside–”

“Have you been taking him outside?  Remember, he’s still incredibly high-risk; you can’t take him out places like a normal baby–”

“She never takes him anywhere!” Rafael interrupted angrily.  “Neither do I!  With the exception of our jobs, neither of us seems to leave the apartment!  We follow all of your instructions to the letter.  We lay him on his back with nothing in his crib.  We feed him the formula instead of breastmilk because you said it has more calories and is better for him. We even bathe whenever we get home before we hold him to protect him from germs outside! We practice holding him regularly and talking with him and responding to everything he does.  We do everything we can to keep him healthy, and you’re saying it’s pneumonia?  He just came home…barely two months ago…”

His voice broke on the last word, a sound that caused Lauren to gently wrap an arm around him.  Lauren looked up at Dr Harding.  “We’ve been reading everything we can, Dr. Harding, trying to keep Aiden healthy and educating ourselves on stuff like premature birth and underdeveloped lungs and failure to thrive.  And he’d been responding more to us lately…smiling and laughing and cooing…” She looked down before continuing.  “I know you keep referring to him as high risk, and that developmentally, he’ll never be normal.  But Rafi and I…he’s our baby.  We believe in him, and we believe in God.

The doctor nodded.  “He’s lucky to have two parents who have such faith.  But I have to tell you, my job is one in a different realm.  As we’ve talked about many times, his lungs are still extremely fragile and underdeveloped.  We’ll need to keep him here where we can isolate him and monitor him.  I’m sorry.”

Rafael couldn’t help but think about how, yet again, they wouldn’t be able to hold or comfort their son as he fought yet another illness.  Just an hour before, the doctor and nurses were holding the baby down, attaching tubes and cords yet again, as his parents stood helplessly on the other side of the glass, not allowed to enter.

“He’s eight months old,” Rafael responded dully.  “Eight months old and he’s spent less than seven weeks with his parents.”  He didn’t think he’d ever felt so helpless.  Catching his face in his hands, he hid behind his palms so his tears wouldn’t be so noticeable.

*****

“Hey Wafi-el!” Lottie calls as he’s finishing the well-child checkup paperwork, “tan I do dis puzzle?”

He glances up for just a moment, then nods.  “Sure, honey.  Just bring it over here.” Clumsily, she gathers the pieces and its tray, then carries it to a small table near him, dropping it down.

“Uh!” she grunts aloud.  “You aggervatin’ me, puzzle.  Be nice!”

He leans forward so his mouth is near her ear.  “I like how you’re using your words when you’re frustrated, Lottie…that’s what big girls do.”  He’s seen what she can do when she’s really frustrated.  A week after she came to live with him, they’d been waiting at the dentist when a puzzle tray went flying past his head.  “Futtin’ dumbass shit!” she’d hollered, and quickly found himself facing a room full of irate and judgmental parents.

Because of her neglect, Lottie has monthly doctor appointments to monitor her physical and cognitive development, and to catch her up on her vaccinations.  They’ve gotten used to the routine of spending one morning a month in a nonprofit children’s clinic in Des Moines.

“Charlotte?” A young, tall woman holds the door heading to the doctor’s offices, and Rafael gently taps Lottie’s shoulder.

“Is that you?” he teases.  “Are you Charlotte?”

“No,” she shakes her head insistently.  “I Wottie.  You know my name, Wafi-el!  It’s otay if you forget.  Momma’s buddy forgets too, so he talls me wittle shit.”  She giggles inappropriately, and he knows immediately the asshole who can’t be bothered to remember her name has made it sound like “Little Shit” is absolutely charming.

Before they can join the nurse, he kneels to her level.  “Well, I think Charlotte AND Lottie are both absolutely beautiful names, just like you are an absolutely beautiful girl.  Ready to see the nurse now?”  Her hand suddenly tightens around his, a reflex from a time not long ago when strangers removed her from the only family she’d known.  “I’m going to be with you the whole time,” he promises.  “Ready?”

“Tarry me?” So he picks her up and gives a friendly nod to the nurse before following her behind the doors toward the offices.

“Let’s see,” she begins, reviewing her chart.  “One of you is Lottie and the other is Rafael.  Hmm.  I’m so bad at this.” Pretending to be confused, she waggles her finger back and forth until Lottie is laughing.  

“Dat’s Wafi-el!” she announces, giggling.  “I’m Wottie.  I’m da wittle girl an’...an’ he’s da grown up!”

“Thank you so much, Lottie!” she continues pointing to the scale.  “And my name is Kelsey!  Could you step on this scale for me?  It’s going to tell the doctor how much you weigh, remember?  You know, Rafael has brought you to see us every month, and every time you get on our scale, you just keep growing and growing, like you’re supposed to!  Ready to see how much you’ve grown this time?”

Lottie nods and slowly steps on the scale, letting go of Rafael’s hand and watching the digital numbers form.  They finally settle on 31.

“Is dat one good?” she asks, glancing at the nurse before settling her gaze on Rafael.

He grins at her.  “That one is excellent,” he assures her, feeling embarrassingly proud that her body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.  When she walked into his home on December 29th, she weighed twenty-three pounds, had no vaccinations, and had been diagnosed with failure to thrive.  As of today, nearly four months later, she’s gained eight pounds, three of them in the last month.

“Miss Lottie, I can tell you are doing a good job eating good food!” Kelsey tells her.  “I’m so proud of you, and so is Rafael!  I bet Dr. Levin will be so happy, too!  Can I get a high-five today?” Holding up her hand expectantly, Kelsey waits for Lottie to slap it, and they both grin at one another.

“Wafi-el keeps givin’ me good food,” Lottie tells the nurse.  Then, hesitantly, she asks, “Do I get any of dem sticks today?”

Kelsey flips through her chart.  “Yes ma’am, you do.  You get one today.  Would you rather get it  in your arm or your leg?”

One of the things Rafael truly respects about this team of doctors and nurses is their honesty and respect with children.  They have always answered Lottie’s questions truthfully and given her choices when they could.  And over time, he’s realized that while Lottie may never enjoy getting an immunization, she handles it much better when she’s given at least a little control in the process.

Lottie’s bottom lip is already quivering.  “I get a stick in my arm.  An’ Wafi-el gonna hold me, wight, Wafi-el?” she asks, although she’s already climbed into his lap.

“You bet, my little lady,” he tells her.  “You’re very brave.”

Kelsey preps everything quickly, and Rafael takes the time to review their plans for the day.  She has preschool, and will be there in time for outside play.  He’ll pick her up after nap, and it’s Friday night, so she picks the food and he picks the movie.  In the four months he’s known her, her Friday dinner choices have almost always been McDonald’s, Taco Bell, or Little Caesar’s.  He once asked if any other pizza was okay, and she’d responded with, “Huh? Other places got pizza?”

“Okay, here we go, little one.  Remember, when I get to three, it’s a stick, okay?  Here we go–”

Lottie leans forward, tears sliding from her eyes, and strokes Rafael’s beard as they all count to three together.  Then comes the pinch of the stick, and Lottie cries out, “Owie!” before she bursts into laughter.  “All done, Wafi-el!  I be your brave wittle wady!”

“You certainly are!” he agrees, pulling out his handkerchief and helping to dry her cheeks.  The worst of the appointment today is over, and both of them relax, waiting for Dr. Levin’s visit, where he’ll compliment both of them on the weight gain and distribute stickers for a good stick.

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday, baby! Let’s blow it out!” Lauren cooed to Aiden, cuddled in her arms, then blew out the candle as Rafael took picture after picture.

It was a humid, hot August day when he turned one, but for once, Aiden was home again. They had planned to have a small, happy gathering of close friends and family, but Dr. Harding had nixed that plan when they’d brought him home the week before.  “You understand that the more people you bring around this child, the sooner he’ll be back in the hospital, right?” he’d asked, crossing his arms, and Rafael wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.

So far, his son–who didn’t come home until he was six months old–had been hospitalized twice with pneumonia in the last six months  He spent nearly all of his time inside with a limited number of caregivers.  Other babies his age were easily calling for their “Dada” or even “Mama”, but Aiden had done little more than coo at them. He didn’t crawl and rarely attempted to hold his head up. His lungs had still not developed properly,and the doctor continued to warn them that each time the baby got sick could be his last.  Still, Rafael and Lauren had allowed themselves to fantasize that a short, hour-long party on his first birthday would be a wonderful treat for them all.

Until Dr. Harding brought them back to reality.

The night before Aiden’s birthday, Rafael lied, telling Lauren that he was going to get a surprise for the baby’s birthday.  The truth was, his old buddy Alex had invited him to come by his dorm and hang out for a bit.  Rafael and Lauren shared their bedroom with baby Aiden in a small two-bedroom apartment with Lila, Lauren’s mom, and whoever she was dating this month.  Alex shared his dorm with some guy named Rick, and they did whatever they wanted.  On more than one occasion, it had occurred to Rafael that he was supposed to be living in a dorm room at Harvard, taking pre-law classes and being  a college student, instead of working overtime to give half his salary to his girlfriend’s mom and use the rest to care for a baby who would probably never say his name.  

He tried not to be that selfish.  But the night before Aiden’s first birthday, he was.  He took off and got drunk, went to some frat party, and nearly had sex with some girl he’d never seen before.  And when he climbed into bed in the early morning, still drunk and stinking from his crime, Lauren didn’t even criticize him.  Instead, she’d cupped his face in her hand and kissed him, until he’d cried.  She deserved so much better, and it was his fault that she was here, suffering, instead of at Columbia, becoming the journalist she’d dreamt of being.

And that afternoon, he took photos of his son and his first birthday party with Lauren, Lila, his mami Lucia and himself as guests.

*****

Lottie hands him the invitation when he picks her up from preschool.  “Wookit, Wafi-el!” she announces excitedly.  “Celia’s havin’ a…a birfday party at da zoo!  Dat’s so cool, huh?”

He examines the invitation dated for the next Saturday morning and smiles.  “That IS cool,” he agrees, and they begin their short walk home.  “Have you thought about what you’d like to give her?”

Lottie blinks a couple of times.  “I gotta give her sumpin?” she asks confusedly, and he’s suddenly reminded that this child has absolutely no context for what a birthday party–or even a birthday present– is.  “Wike one of my toys?” she asks, now more hesitant.

“Not one of yours, love,” he corrects her quickly, and he can visibly see the stress disappear from her face.  For a second, he remembers how she’d arrived at his house a few days after Christmas, and he’d been shocked that she hadn’t had a single Christmas present with her–not a toy, not a game, not even a new shirt.  

He has a random memory of being roughly her age and getting a stuffed dog for Christmas.  He’d carried it around with him everywhere for months.

They arrive home, and he reminds her to use the bathroom and wash her hands so she can eat a snack.  And when they’re settled at the kitchen table a few minutes later, he thinks now is as good a time as any.  “Hey Lottie,” he asks, “have you ever had a birthday party?  Or gone to one?”

She shakes her head no.  “Uh-uh,” she responds, then shoves a piece of cheese in her mouth.  Granted, she’s eating better, but her manners are still pretty awful.  “Do you gotta go to da zoo for ‘em?  I never been to da zoo.”

He smiles at her.  “Actually, you can have a birthday party anywhere.  It sounds like your friend Celia’s having hers at the zoo.  Sometimes, when it’s time for a child’s birthday, some families want to have a celebration, so they invite friends to do something fun with them.  Friends bring a present for the birthday person, and usually everyone does something fun together.  They might play games, and usually they eat cake and ice cream.  And when it’s over, everyone goes home.  It’s a lot of fun for everyone.”

Her eyes are big.  “We gonna eat cake?  An’...an’ ice cream?  Dat sounds so good!”

He chuckles.  “Yeah, it’s a fun time.  But we need to get you ready.  We need to go to the store so we can get a present for Celia, and we need to make sure that your hair is brushed and you’re nice and clean, and you have to wear cutie patootie clothes.  And you have to know how to say, ‘Happy birthday, Celia!’”

Her brow is furrowed as she listens carefully to his directions.  Before she lived with him, it was rare for her to bathe, and her hair was so tangled when he got her that they had to cut it short to manage it.  But she’s doing better now, especially if she understands the expectations of cleanliness, and why…that it’s more pleasant for other people, and it also helps to take care of yourself.  She also has two types of clothes; the cute ones that came from somewhere OTHER than Walmart, and the cheaper ones paid for by the state that are practical for all sorts of busy-ness that preschoolers do.  She only has about four nicer outfits, and Lottie calls those her “cutie-patootie” clothes, “tause I wook wike a weal cutie patootie in dose, don’t I, Wafi-el?”

“I fink I can do all dat stuff,” she tells him slowly, taking a bite of her last cracker.

“Oh, I know you can,” he tells her, like it’s no big deal.  “You’re gonna do awesome.”

She giggles, then finishes her cracker.

*****

On the day of the party, he’s surprised to learn that he’s the one who’s nervous, not Lottie.  Actually, his nerves didn’t kick in until he went to drop her off.  She was wearing a cute little dress and barrettes in her hair, and she was carrying an armadillo in a gift bag for Celia (he’d rooted for a stuffed dog, but Lottie insisted Celia loves armadillos).  And as soon as they entered the party area, Lottie saw her friends and immediately ran over to say hi, leaving Rafael to look around…at the cliques of moms, realizing he was the only man in the room.

He also quickly realized that he’d overdressed his charge.  Everyone else was in tee shirts and jeans, and part of him felt as though he’d let her down.  After a moment, Celia’s mom came over and introduced herself, assuring him it was fine to either stay or go, and that Lottie was “absolutely precious”.  Since they’d talked about him leaving, Rafael went over to tell Lottie goodbye.  She was already busy with a few of the other kids and barely looked at him.  “Tay, Wafi-el.  See ya!” she said, then turned her attention back to her friends.

So he spent a couple hours poking around some stores in Des Moines he hadn’t been in yet before returning to pick Lottie up at exactly one p.m.  She’s sitting next to a couple of kids he recognizes from preschool, and when she sees him, she hops up and shrieks, “WAFI-EL!  Dat’s my Wafi-el, guys!  He’s not my dad but he’s kinda wike my dad.  See you!”  And then her arms are thrown around his waist and she’s giggling.  He scoops her up and grins at her.

“Thank you so much for bringing her, Rafael,” Celia’s mom, Ivy, says as she hands Lottie a small bag.  “And thank YOU, Miss Lottie, for helping Celia have such a terrific birthday!  She already loves her armadillo!”  From their perspective, they can see Celia surrounded by a group of kids, and they’re all playing with the armadillo and a couple of other toys.

“Dat was da best birfday EVER!” Lottie exclaims as they get in the car and he buckles her into her carseat.  “We saw some animals and we got to pet dem, and we played some games, and we had cake and it was so…so…so YUM!”  Climbing into the front seat, Rafael chuckles, and Lottie continues to giggle.  The frequency of her laughter these days is something that he rejoices in.  He hopes she never loses it.  “But, uh…Wafi-el? Celia’s mom tried to give me some ice cream, but I didn’t eat it, tause dat’s too much special food, wight?  You always say we only eat one special food on a day and I eated all that yummy cake!  Is dat okay if I didn’t eat her ice cream?”

For a moment, he feels like an idiot.  She’s so literal, this little one, and has no reference point to do it any other way.  And somehow, she’s come to respect him tremendously, as though he’s the only rational person she’s ever known. He nearly snorts at himself when he realizes how many irrational people she’s already known.  “Parties are special days, and sometimes you can have more than one special food on special days. But do you know that I am so proud of how you thought about that?  You were really trying to take care of your body!  What a smart girl you are, Lottie!”

He watches in the mirror as her chin juts high and a smile appears.  “I gettin’ pretty smart, huh?  Hey, do you fink dat maybe I can have a birfday party wike dat?  I never gotted one before.”

He feels himself smile as he responds, “I think that maybe you can.”

Chapter Text

Someone was gently shaking his shoulder, and Rafael slowly allowed himself to be roused from sleep.  “Yeah?”

His mother sank onto the seat next to him in the chapel.  “What’s the doctor say?”

Rafael shrugged.  “He stopped breathing, Mami.  I couldn’t get him breathing fast enough.  I tried…pumped his little chest, blew breaths in, but nothing happened.  He’s got another pneumonia in one of his lungs, and the doctor thinks he may have had a stroke from being deprived oxygen for too long.  He thinks Aiden won’t be able to last without machines from now on.”

Lucia let out a long sigh.  “Rafi, you’ve done the best you could.  If it weren’t for you and Lauren, Aiden would have never made it this long.”

“What do we do, Mom?” he whispered.  “I’ve never wanted him to hurt, and it seems like all I ever cause him is pain.  If I had listened to Lila last night, let him go, then maybe…”

He felt her hand firmly turn his face toward hers.  Her eyes were narrowed and her voice was low.  “Papito,” she whispered, “don’t you ever repeat that to anyone, including yourself, you hear me?  That is a secret meant for God, and it’ll go to Him, along with His baby.  You remember, Rafi, Aiden was never yours.  He has always been God’s, to reclaim whenever He was ready.”

He felt his eyes fill with tears of desperation, of guilt and shame, of sadness.  Why hadn’t he been the one to check on Aiden first?  Had he really hesitated when Lila told him not to intervene, or was that just in his head now?  Lauren had been napping…was that on purpose or a setup? 

It took a moment for him to process the arms cradling him, pressing his head into a shoulder as he cried.  He’d never felt more alone in his life.

*****

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says to Elaine, Lottie’s social worker, and instead of sounding angry, he sounds desperate, lost.  “You know what she’s been through with Meadow!  How can the court think that’s in her best interest, and so quickly?”

Meadow is Lottie’s biological mom.  She’s a twenty-year old heroin addict and prostitute who couch-hopped with her daughter for years.  As far as doctors could tell, Lottie’s abuse and neglect was physical and emotional, not sexual; however, Rafael always figured it had been a strong likelihood.  From his experience, most kids who live in oversexualized environments rarely escape without being abused, or at least exposed, to the ugliness of their world.

Elaine sighs, then sits next to him on the couch.  “I thought you understood, Rafael.  That line about how we’re here for the kids? It’s all a bunch of BS.  It’s not about what’s best for the kids.  It’s about the legal rights of the parents.  Meadow has met the requirements the court has set for her, so she gets her daughter back.  She will be monitored by DHS–”

“Terrific,” he snaps.  “Weren’t they monitoring when half of this happened?”  He knows Elaine’s employed by DHS–Iowa’s Department of Human Services–but right now he doesn’t care.  She’s part of the problem, and he can’t believe he’s just now seeing it.

“Look,” she says, facing him head on.  “I know how hard this is, and the first foster child is the hardest.  We ask you to love them but be ready to give them up at any moment.  It’s not a reasonable request.  You’ve been an outstanding foster dad, Rafael–she’s made it to every doctor appointment, every visit with us or her mother.  She has terrific school attendance, and the progress she’s made developmentally while living here is incredible.  She’s drinking from a cup, eating a variety of foods, and is a healthy weight…she’s sleeping most nights, from what you’ve said, and she’s potty trained.”

“She was potty trained the whole time,” he grumbles.  “Her mother just didn’t let her go.”

He’d learned this about a month in, when he ran low on diapers one morning.  As he was getting Lottie dressed to run to the drug store, she stopped him.  “Want me to just pee in the potty for you, Wafi-el?” she asked.  “I tan do it, but my momma says no, use a diapuh.”

As he supervised her a few minutes later on the toilet, he asked the burning question.  “Why’d your momma tell you to go in a diaper?” he asked.

She shrugged.  “Tause…tause she was sweepin.  An’ also, da potty don’t always flush wike yours.”

“Either way,” Elaine tells him now, “you’ve done a phenomenal job with her.  And all I can tell you is to focus on the good you’ve done for her.  You’ve made a difference for this little girl.  Hopefully, things will continue to improve from here, but you can always rest easy knowing that you did right by her.”

“Rest easy,” he chuckles, tears in his eyes.  “I’ll remember that.”

“Rafael,” she says gently but firmly, “you can always bow out and not foster again.  If it’s too hard for you, then it’s okay to quit.  Fostering isn’t for everyone.”

“I’ll think about it,” he says, heart empty.  “When do I need to have her at your office?”

“Tomorrow,” she tells him, “at ten a.m.  Can you do that?”

“Of course I can,” he replies.  “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“No,” she reminds him, standing to leave.  “You don’t.”

***

“I goin’ to my momma’s?” Lottie repeats, as he helps her get into her nightgown.  He just gave her a bath.  When she’d arrived at his place in December, she’d been so filthy he could hardly stand the smell.  Her hair had reeked of mildew.  He hopes Meadow will bathe her more regularly.  She likes it, the feeling of being clean.

“You are,” he affirms, trying to look happy for her.  He’s put her in her favorite nightgown, a yellow one with ducks all over it.  He’s been packing her things most of the afternoon, but he kept this out for her.  He’s spent far more than the state allotted for her clothing, because he’s a sucker for her excited face and little giggle when she sees things she likes.  Hopefully, Meadow  will let her wear them instead of selling them.

“Yay! We go to Momma’s!  An’...an’ den, is Momma gonna sweep here wif us, Wafi-el?” she asks, and he thinks his heart just broke yet again.

He forces a smile at her.  “No, honey.  You get to stay with your momma! I’m going to take you to Elaine’s office in the morning, and your momma will be there, and she’s going to take you home.  Momma’s going to take care of you now.”

He can tell she’s confused.  “An’ after I visit her house, I comin’ back here wif you, wight, Wafi-el? Tause I gotta go to stool, an’ we gots to pway at da park, an’ you gonna wead me a story at bedtime, wight?  An’...an’ we gonna eat da wittle oranges.  Momma don’t got wittle oranges.”

Rafael has done some painful things in his life.  He’s watched his seventeen-month old son die.  He found his girlfriend dead from suicide.  He’s lost his abuelita, turned off a baby’s life support, been tried for second-degree murder, and left people he loved behind in New York due to shame.

This conversation with Lottie ranks with all of those.  Innately, he knows he will never forget it.

He forces himself to look her in the eye, to pull her into a side hug, and to smile.  He’s read somewhere that a smile helps kids to feel more secure.  “Well, I hear that you would like to come back here at night, but Elaine says you get to live with your mom all the time again!  So no, you won’t come back here, honey.  But don’t worry…I’ll have all of your toys and your books and your clothes packed, and I will give them to your momma so you can have them.”

He watches helplessly as her little chin begins to tremble.  “Can you stay wif me at my momma’s?  She don’t know how to make good food or gimme a baf…”

He pulls her into a tight hug.  “Elaine says your mom has learned how to do those things, honey,” he says, but can’t help it when his mouth keeps going.  “But if she hasn’t, you need to tell Elaine right away, okay?”

He feels her nod under his chin.

***

They arrive at nine fifty-five the next morning, after completing their goodbye morning.  Rafael had let Lottie decide what they should do before they went to Elaine’s office, and she had asked to play at the park, then eat breakfast at “their” coffee shop.  So first, they stopped at the playground across the street from the apartment.  Lottie quickly settled herself on the swing, her favorite piece of equipment, and Rafael immediately began to push her into the air.  It was something they did nearly every day, yet for some reason it seemed so different this time.  It took him several minutes to realize what was missing; it was the loud, high-pitched giggle he was used to hearing every time he helped her swing.  She was completely silent this morning, swinging back and forth with little effort, until she finally allowed him to stop.  

“I’m weady for da coffee shop now, Wafi-el,” she told him, and he nodded, then took her hand once she’d left the swing.  They walked a block to the shop and he bought her the same order as always–a kid’s hot cocoa and a bagel with jelly.  He watched her eat while he sipped his coffee, thinking about how the next time he came here, he’d be alone. He’d never realized before how much room she took in his life, and how enriching all of it was.  Sure, everyone was really quick to say what a great dad he was, and all that he was giving to her.  But nobody had really talked about the fact that she’d given him a whole hell of a lot, too, starting with a renewed sense of purpose.  A reason to get out of bed in the morning, to make something of himself, to not let Aiden’s death be the ending of his own life.  Now what was he supposed to do?

After a handful of bites of the bagel, Lottie sighed and set down the rest of her food.  Resting her head in her hand, he heard her voice sounding quieter than ever before.  “I’m all done, Wafi-el,” she whispered.  “I’m weady to go now.”  He could see the tears in her eyes, and she quickly wiped one away, and something inside him wanted to absolutely throttle anyone who had ever hurt her.

But now wasn’t the time, so he stood up and held his hand out for her.  She took it slowly, then followed him out of the coffee shop, and at nine fifty-five, they find themselves standing in front of the social services offices.

At exactly ten o’clock, Elaine shows up and motions for them to join her.  Rafael stands, then looks at Lottie.  “Ready, kiddo?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face again.  He holds out a hand.

She holds up both arms.  “Tarry me, Wafi-el,” she says, so he picks her up.  He still can’t get over how completely lightweight she is, despite the fact the doctors have praised him for how much weight she’s gained.  Her little arms wrap around his neck, but she looks straight into his eyes.  “Your eyes are sad today, Wafi-el,” she tells him.  “My eyes feel sad, too.”

He forces a smile and kisses her cheek, then walks over to Elaine.

She leads them back into her office.  There’s a short, thin, blonde teenager? Woman?--standing by a chair there.  He can’t believe how young she is.  If he had to guess, he’d think she was sixteen or seventeen.  But she can’t be.  Lottie is four, and he’d read somewhere the mother was twenty.  Meadow.

Her face lights up immediately when she sees the little girl.  “Oh, my baby!” she cries out, and Rafael watches as Elaine’s lips first purse themselves, then smile.  “Oh, honey…oh Lottie…Momma’s missed you so much!  Are you ready to go home, honey?”  She holds her arms out, and Lottie hesitantly reaches for her mother.  

Rafael gently passes her over, then lowers the bag he’s holding to the floor.

“Can Wafi-el come wif us?” It’s Lottie’s voice, and suddenly both women are looking at the child, eyes wide with surprise, then at him.  Elaine almost looks accusatory, as though he’d encouraged the child to ask.

When neither immediately speaks, he clears his throat and touches the little girl’s back.  “Remember, Lottie?  You’re going with your momma today.  You’re going to have a great time!  I’ve got all your things right here in this bag,” he reminds her, pointing at the duffel bag on the floor.  “I’m so glad we got to know each other, kiddo.”

“Honey, do you want to give the nice man a hug goodbye?” the woman/child asks, and Lottie nods frantically, reaching for him.

It’s a bad idea and he knows it, but it’s already been offered, so he complies. He hugs her gently, but he can feel her fingers gripping into his shoulders, into his shirt, and he knows what’s going to happen because he knows her, he’s dealt with her fears for the last six months.  Elaine finally tries to free him from the child’s grasp, but Lottie’s hands are squeezing his polo shirt so tightly he’s fairly certain it’ll rip before she lets go.  All three of them are trying to quietly speak to her, to be heard over or under the sobs emanating from her little chest, to comfort her.  Elaine has gotten one hand off and Meadow has tried to turn Lottie away from him as Elaine continues to attempt to pry the other hand from his shirt; all he can hear is his own voice repeating “it’s okay, kiddo…it’s gonna be okay.”

In one odd moment, it seems the world stops and takes a breath.  Lottie releases her grip, quite likely in an effort to secure a better one, but it’s enough for Elaine to grasp the child’s empty hand and for Rafael to make a run for it.  He quickly steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and takes three steps into the hallway before leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

Within a minute, Elaine has joined him, alone.  “I know it’s hard,” she says, handing him a tissue, and he’s shocked to realize he’s crying.  “Anything you want me to pass on to Meadow?”

He shakes his head, then says, “Lottie’s stuff is in the duffel bag.  She doesn’t want it lost or sold.  And she wanted her mother to know she likes clementines.  Fresh ones, but her mom needs to peel them.  She can’t do it yet.”

Elaine nods, as though she’s going to tell the woman/child all of this.  He knows it’s BS, that she probably won’t pass a bit of it along, but he feels the urge to say it.  For Lottie.

She lays a hand on his shoulder, then says, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He has to literally bite the fuck out of his tongue to keep from replying, “Don’t.”

Chapter Text

Clumsily, he picks up the shot glass and downs the liquid inside.  He can’t remember anymore exactly how many it’s been, but more than necessary is probably accurate. 

He’s taken to working nonstop since she left.  There is a national law conference in town, and he considered attending.  But at the last minute, he decided he’d rather work from home than have to face the world right now, and that’s what he’s done.  In just three days he’s held nine meetings wearing a button down, tie, and a sports jacket with his boxer briefs, and he’s loved every minute of it.

But by this afternoon, he was ready to put on some pants and face the world again–at least to some degree.  Truthfully, he’d had a bit of motivation as well, when his phone rang a few hours ago and it was Sonny Carisi.

“Just wonderin’ if you have any free time this weekend,” the detective asked, sounding as casual and Staten-Islandy as ever.  “I’m here for the week, goin’ to that conference in downtown Des Moines.  You near there?”

Which is how he’s ended up here, at a local bar, drinking more than his weight in alcohol while apparently being stood up by a man he used to have feelings for.

As he’s contemplating a final shot, the bartender tosses him a friendly smile.  “Sorry, man, but I can’t serve you any more.  You’ll be over the limit.”

“Ah,” Rafael sighs, “don’t say that yet!  The night is young…at least I think it is.”  He fumbles with his watch, trying to see the digital display, when he hears a chuckle behind him.  

“Time get away from you, Barba?”

Awkwardly, Rafael tries to turn around, to see who’s mocking him, but his balance was lost about two shots ago, and he nearly slips off the barstool.  Fortunately, Carisi quickly reaches over and helps to steady him back on the seat.  “Sorry I’m so late,” he says as he helps Rafael straighten himself.  “I ended up getting called into an impromptu skype conference on a case back in the city.”

Rafael laughs loosely, causing Carisi to grin.  “And here I thought you just stood me up,” Rafael tells him, reaching for Carisi’s beer, now sitting on the bar.  “Oh wait, that’s not mine…I got cut off.”  He hands the beer to Sonny and smiles.

Carisi takes a drink, then sets the beer back on the bar.  “Rough week, huh, Rafael?” he asks, and despite his smile, Rafael can read the empathy and compassion in his eyes.

“One could say that,” he responds, then slowly scans the other man from top to bottom.  It’s been a long time, but it doesn’t look like much has changed.  Carisi is still long and lean and undeniably attractive, and Rafael is suddenly flooded with memories of what it’s like to be tasted and worshipped, desired and devoured, by the man in front of him.  And he realizes that’s something that hasn’t changed either.  

Leaning in, he smiles sweetly.  “You’ve always known how to make it better, though.  Haven’t you, Sonny?” he asks, and watches as his ex-boyfriend’s eyes cloud over, a mixture of  compassion and lust, and possibly something else.  Rafael knows what he wants, and with Sonny, he knows exactly how to get it.

*****

It takes no time for them to end up here.  If Rafael knows anything about his former lover, it’s that he’s a pleaser.  Sonny can’t stand to disappoint, can’t handle saying no, can’t sit with the incongruence of arguments for longer than a day.  So when Rafael invited the other man back to his apartment, he knew it would only take a few well-placed nips to the neck along with a soft whisper, and Sonny would be ready to ease the emptiness that had been plaguing him since last Thursday.

The bedroom is messy but it’s dark, and Rafael tries to focus his mind on the feel of Sonny’s mouth along his neck, his jaw.  He quickly unbuttons each button of Sonny’s shirt,then slides his broad hands inside to stroke skin.  It’s a touch that brings out soft sigh from both men, and as Rafael allows his fingers to wander south, tangling gently with rough hair, Sonny’s mouth separates from his.  “How far are you wanting this to go tonight, Rafi?” he murmurs.

There’s a soft chuckle in Rafael’s throat.  Sonny has always been exceptionally kind.  “As far as we can go,” he answers, his tone slightly rough in a mix of need and desperation.  He needs Sonny’s distraction, needs to be taken away from here.  Needs to stop being himself and become somebody else, somewhere else, where it doesn’t hurt–

He gasps loudly as Sonny bites his shoulder, blinking back tears before focusing on his lover firmly pushing him down on the bed.  There’s something under his back that he’s trying to move it out of the way as Sonny eagerly yanks open his trousers and pulls them down his legs.  Half-aware, Rafael grabs the object under him and tosses it toward the foot of the bed before turning his attention to Sonny’s mouth and his kissing, sucking, stroking.  His hands tangle into Sonny’s hair just like they used to, and for a moment, it’s as though the last two years never happened.  They’re back in Manhattan, a regular couple on a regular night, in love and expressing it as hot and heavy as they can–

It takes him a minute to realize Sonny’s stopped, and he sighs, wishing the fantasy were real.

“Rafi,” he hears below.  He’s not sure what Sonny is going to say, but his tone has a note of sadness and pity, and he’s guessing it isn’t about sex anymore.  He feels Sonny’s hand stroking his thigh, a light, loving touch.  “Why’s there a stuffed dog in your bed?”

Dammit.  Lottie had forgotten the stuffed dog he’d gotten her months before.  He’d found it the day after she left and brought it into the bedroom, trying to decide if he should send it to her or just forget about it, and in the meantime, it has sat on his bed, staring at him.  Except when it’s ended up somehow tangled in his arms, or occasionally poking him in the back when he sleeps.

He tries to laugh, but it comes out sounding almost painful.  “It’s not mine,” he starts, voice soft in the darkness, before he’s interrupted.

“Does it belong to the little girl in the pictures?” Sonny asks, his own voice matching Rafael’s.  “Is she your daughter?”

“No,” he returns painfully, quickly.  “It’s a long story.  Basically, I was a foster parent for awhile.  But she’s gone back to her biological mom.  I meant to take the pictures down, but haven’t had a chance to yet.”  That was true.  He’s meant to take them down every day.  There are three of them still–one in the living room, with the family photos on the wall; a collage of Lottie, hung in the hallway, and then one clipped to the refrigerator in the kitchen.  He loves them all, but the kitchen one is his favorite, because it’s a casual picture of the two of them together, playing at the park.

Sonny’s fingers have slowly climbed the length up to Rafael’s side, stroking warmly, “How long did you have her?” he asks, and Rafael knows that just like that, everything has changed.  They won’t be having sex tonight, because Sonny knows him well enough to know that sex isn’t going to fix it for him now.

Sonny’s one of the only people who can read his pain.  And he’s not once walked away from it.

“I hate you sometimes, you know,” Rafael blurts out, but there’s no force behind it, no anger.  “Why can’t you just let me lose myself in a distraction, Sonny?  Sometimes, distractions can be good things…and God knows, you’re a beautiful one.”

He feels the other man’s body shift and move until lanky arms wrap around him and a soft kiss warms his temple.  “Because you deserve so much more.You distract yourself so much  because you never learned how to face the pain…nobody told you it wasn’t your fault, and that really good people sometimes suffer tremendous pain.  I know that you know that.  I know that you’ve seen that and agree with it.  But it’s time that you acknowledge you’re one of those really good people too, Rafi.  And these losses that you experience, they aren’t punishments.  They’re just the cost of having such a huge heart, of loving so much.  At the risk of sounding horribly cliche, grief is just love with nowhere to go.”

“You should have a Hallmark line,” Rafael gets out, and then he’s crying quietly in Sonny’s arms, the same as he’d done once before.

“Why can’t you just drop it?” Rafael stepped back, away from Sonny, and crossed his arms.  “No matter what I give you, it’s never enough, Dominick.  I’ve done everything you wanted, everything you asked for, but I will not marry you.  A marriage is–well, it’s too complex to get out of quickly once you realize that I’m not as well-matched to you as you think I am.”

Angrily, Sonny stepped forward.  “Why?  Give me one way in which we’re not well-matched.  Is this about me going to Fordham, or being from Staten Island?  You think I’m not as intelligent, or–”

Now Rafael stepped closer, holding a finger to Sonny’s chest.  “You know that’s not it,” he said, low.  “And this discussion is over.”

And it had been, until Sonny woke up hours later in the bed they shared. There was a baby’s scrapbook where his lover should have been, and Rafael was nowhere to be seen.

To this day, Sonny can’t forget the haunting photos in that scrapbook.  A premature baby, so small he barely filled his adolescent father’s hands.  Every photo seemed to document Aiden’s illnesses–his inability to grow normally, his small, sickly frame; the inability of his overly large brown eyes to focus on anyone.  Scars on his tiny body from surgeries and feeding tubes.  And the bald head, where the baby had pulled out his own hair due to the anxiety of never being able to draw a full breath.

“Rafi,” he says quietly again as Rafael’s sobs begin to settle, “tell me about her.  About your little girl.”

A silence descends upon them for several minutes as Rafael tries to decide what to say and where to even start.  But Sonny is used to waiting; he learned a long time ago that the patience in waiting for Rafael’s responses were well worth his time. 

And this time, it pays off again.  Rafael randomly reaches for the stuffed dog.  “When I was her age, four or so, I got a stuffed dog and I carried the damn thing around forever.  I had to get her one, too…God knows, she came to me right after Christmas with only the clothes on her back.”

And with those words, Rafael begins to share the story of Lottie, of the last six months of his life, of how he’s been healing and reassessing his life and realigning his goals.  And how, over the last two years, he’s come to understand that the decisions he made at seventeen or eighteen don’t have to be the ones he makes now, or even two years ago, with Drew Householder.  Yes, he’s grieving the loss of Lottie.  Yes, it hurts like hell and tonight, he would’ve loved nothing more than to lose himself in alcohol or sex.  But that’s not who he is anymore, at least it hasn’t been when Lottie’s been around.  She counts on him to have his shit together, so he has.

That last statement seems to stun him, and he pulls back from Sonny and stares at the ceiling for a minute.  “You know, from what I heard, Lottie’s mom had it tough.  We all have it tough in some way…some kind of shit that keeps us from being our best.  But when Lottie was here, all of that shit became secondary.  On the anniversary of Drew’s death, I always spend the day locked in my apartment drinking and obsessing how I ruined a family’s life together.  But this year? I spent two hours in a preschool classroom for a family thing.  Lottie looked at me like I hung the moon when I walked through the door, Sonny.  I made her day just by showing up.  And I’m starting to realize that being a parent isn’t about being perfect, or making all the right decisions.  It’s about having the balls to just show up for your kid…even when it’s hard.”  He sighs softly.  “I just miss her.”

“The right one is out there,” Sonny tells him then, kissing his forehead.  “Sorry to say it, but God hasn’t led you this far to waste his work.”

Their eyes meet for a long moment, and Rafael’s mouth pulls into a half smile.  “You wanna have sex anyway?” he asks now, and watches Sonny smile back.  “Truthfully, I’ve missed  you…I’ve missed everyone.”

Sonny tangles his fingers with Rafael’s slowly, then closes his eyes and leans over for a long,sensual kiss.  “I’ve missed you too,” he murmurs, and his heart flutters when he sees his lover’s eyes close and his smile relax.

Chapter Text

Carefully, Rafael folds his favorite Harvard sweatshirt and lays it in the box.  He’s close to being done, and it’s both a huge relief and also slightly sad at the same time.

He never imagined a “drink” with Sonny would have resulted in his decision to return to the city so quickly.  But if he’s honest with himself, Sonny is the  one person he’s ever truly loved in a romantic sense, and seeing him again was like coming home.  Sonny’s overnight visit that hot Thursday last month had resulted in an extended stay, which had resulted in a lot of honesty shared between them.  By the time Sonny flew back home that Sunday, they’d decided to try again.  Sonny had managed to keep the old apartment, so Rafael would be moving into space he was already familiar with.  Rafael gave his notice, with his last day being June thirtieth, with intentions to pack and drive back to Manhattan in time for the holiday weekend.  It was a tight schedule, but Rafael liked moving quickly.  It gave him less time to dwell on what was being left behind.

Yesterday, he’d dropped a small package off with Elaine, Lottie’s social worker.  It contained a few items he’d found left at his house after her own quick departure, including the stuffed dog he’d rolled on the night Sonny had come over.  He also included a card with his address on it for the little girl so she could write him if she wanted to, and if it was okay with her mom.

He’d heard that sometimes foster kids saw their foster parents after the fostering was over, but so far, that hadn’t happened for them.  He wasn’t surprised, considering how hard it had been for Lottie to separate from him.  He’d wondered how her mother had responded once they were alone, and prayed to God that Meadow hadn’t blamed Lottie.  When he stopped by with the package, Elaine had invited him into her office briefly.

“Thank you for bringing these by,” she told him.  “I know they will mean a lot to Lottie.  How are you doing, Rafael?”

He forced a smile, the best he could do.  “I’m okay.  I’ve decided to go back to New York–you know, that’s where I’m from, where my family is. I’m, uh…getting back together with my ex, and I think it’s going to be good for both of us.” 

She nodded.  “I know this was a hard separation for you, but with space and time, you may decide you want to try fostering again.  You know, if you and your partner ever decide to foster in New York, I would be happy to serve as a reference for you.  If we only had more foster parents like you, I would lose a lot less sleep at night.”  She smiled.  “Last week, Meadow shared with me that Lottie’s end of the year school assessments showed tremendous growth in language skills, self-help skills, and problem-solving skills.  I think we all know that’s due to you, Rafael.”

He felt his chest warm a bit.  “How are they doing?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Elaine smiled again, but this time it wasn’t nearly as bright.  “They’re doing okay.  Getting used to one another again.  It’s hard,” she explained slowly.  “I know we didn’t talk much about Meadow’s history, but she landed in the foster system herself when she was barely six.  That hardens people, Rafael.  Kids live some tough lives, even though we have so many workers and families who try to make it better.”

“It’s just very frustrating,” he heard himself replying,”that you invest all this time and energy and love…yes, love is it, I guess…to help a child, and once they start to improve and thrive, they get thrown back into the same situation that screwed them up in the first place.  I’m sorry that Meadow had a bad childhood, but at what point do we stop accepting that as a reason to excuse crappy parenting?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question for seventeen years,” Elaine replied, shaking her head, before patting the package he’d given her.  “I’ll make sure these get to them.  Good luck, Rafael.”

As he left the office, he found himself wondering if Lottie was still missing him, and if anyone would let her have his card, never mind read it to her.  He wondered if one day he’d open up his mail in Manhattan and boom, there’d be a letter from Lottie, written in childish scrawl.

As much as he’d love for that to happen, there was no way he’d bet on it.

***

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Rafael laughs.  “There is no way you need as much wardrobe or closet space as I do!”

They’re facetiming one another, same as most nights, as Rafael finishes the final bits of packing.  He’s due to head to Manhattan in the morning.

“Of course I do, Rafi!” Sonny returns, his own laugh causing Rafael to grin.  “After all, I’m the ADA now.  Don’t you work from home?  Do you even wear pants for your conference calls?”

“Shut up!” Rafael replies, still chuckling.  “The only reason you need so much space is because double knit polyester takes up more room!”

“Listen to you…you love my Greg Brady costume.  I make a hot Jonny Bravo, and we both know I fit the suit!” Sonny jokes, and through their laughter, Rafael heard a knock on the door.

“Hang on, babe…someone’s here,” he says, taking a quick look through the peephole, then slowly opening the door in shock.  “Sonny, I have to go…I’ll call you soon,” he says quietly, then hangs up without waiting for a reply.

“Hey Mr. Barba,” the petite blonde says–although she isn’t blonde anymore.  She’s shaved her hair quite short and dyed it bright green now, and he notices a new, sizable piercing on her tongue.

“Hi Meadow,” he greets slowly.  “Where’s Lottie?”

She waves her hand around for a moment.  “Oh, she had some thing at social services…you know, to help her adjust well and know how to talk to people and stuff.  Oh…could I come in?”

Suddenly realizing he hasn’t invited her in, he opens the door widely, and holds out an arm.  “I apologize…please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

She nods at him.  “Thanks,” she replies, then takes a seat on his couch.  He can smell the cigarette and weed smoke on her as she walks by, and for a moment, he wonders if he could buy something off her.  She’s wearing a raspberry-colored sweater and a short black skirt, along with some black ankle boots.  It still surprises him how small she is; if he had to guess, there’s no way she weighs a hundred pounds, and he has no idea if that’s due to poor nutrition or drug abuse or both.  He can see the wear of her twenty years all over her, and it makes him sad.  Wondering if Lottie will ever wear her age like that, he shudders, then sits down on the couch next to her.

“So what can I do for you, Meadow?” he asks.  No need to avoid the question.  It’s clearly the reason she’s here.

Her eyes immediately shift to him and she smiles widely.  “Y’know, Lottie really liked you a lot,” she says, one elbow on the top of the couch as her hand tangles in her hair.  The smile stays, and his stomach flips, then drops, just slightly.

“She’s a very sweet little girl,” he says kindly, praying that this isn’t going in the direction it is, right in front of his eyes.

Her free hand lands on his thigh and her index finger traces the inseam of his jeans.  “She is a very good little girl, and she got all of that from me.  She’s told me how nice you are, and how you fed her so well, and took her fun places…”  He hears her, the speech seemingly rhythmic with the stroking of his inseam.  “I was just wondering if there was anything I could do for you, Mr. Barba,” she continues, and for a second Rafael wonders if this is what Meadow looked like when she was four, also.  “I’m terrific at keeping house, or running errands…I know I don’t look like much, but I did graduate high school so I can do personal assistant-type stuff…and while I may not be pretty, I make up for it in enthusiasm.”  

As if to prove her point, her fingers smoothly slide up the inside of his jeans and nearly land on the crotch; he catches her just in time.  “Meadow,” he says, and his voice is far softer than he intends, “don’t do that.”

“I’ll do whatever makes you happy,” she says now, her eyes wet with tears.  “I'll bring Lottie with me, every day, so you can see her.  We could pretend to be a…a family…or I can lay low instead, if you want…”

Confused, Rafael shakes his head.  “I don’t understand,” he replies, letting go of the hand he’d been holding.  “Are you looking for a job?  If you are, I know Elaine can help you with that.  She has a ton of resources–”

She shakes her head forcefully.  “So I can work at Mickey Dee’s sixty hours a week and bring home enough to barely keep a roof over my head? No.”  She stands from the couch and begins to pace, eventually ending up in front of the bay window.  “People like you ain’t got no idea what life is like for people like me.  That’s half the problem.”

He watches her in silence.  She’s staring out the window across the street, and he wonders what she’s thinking about.  For a moment, he’s suddenly eighteen again, working sixty-hour weeks at the coffee shop and handing his checks over to Lila.

“Rafael!” Lila calls from across the apartment.  “You get paid today?”

Irritated, he fishes into his wallet for the paper check from this afternoon.  It’s not nearly enough, and he knows he’s going to hear about it.  Trying not to look like he cares too much, he meanders over to her and hands her the check.

She glances at it, then glances at him.  “Do you have to pass math to get into law school?” she asks, and he can’t help himself; he grins to spite her.

“Just basic arithmetic…you know, enough so you can count the millions you fleece off of innocent people,” he replies, shit-eating grin still plastered firmly on.

She shakes her head, then lays the check on the counter and hands him a pen.  “Here.  Endorse it.”  She watches as he signs it over.  “It’s bad enough you knocked her up and stole her dreams away,” he hears as he lays the pen down.  “The least you could do is cover your own ass while you wipe it in my house.”

He stands up and looks her in the eye.  “It would have been more if I hadn’t needed to take Lauren to the doctor last week when she had the flu,” he says evenly, “but I’ll try to pick up some more Cottonelle on my way home tomorrow.”

He turns to walk to his bedroom, and he’s almost there when she answers him.  “Make it Charmin,” he hears.  “There’s some delicate asses walking around here.

“I know more than you might think I do,” he says, the feelings of being utterly useless and never good enough taking hold of him. “Life is funny like that.”

She turns around and makes her way back to the couch, sitting on the edge.  “I don’t know what to do.  I’ve got a job and food stamps to feed us, and we even got some program at her school to watch Lottie after preschool.  But you gotta pay extra on days school is out for holidays.  I don’t have any twenty bucks for that day.”  She crosses her arms in front of her.  “And for their camp, the tuition is covered but I gotta pay for trips and other shit.  They sent me this.”  Reaching in her pocket, she pulls out a reminder note from the school.

He reads it aloud.  “Dear Ms. Maddox, Don’t forget to send in a dollar to cover Lottie’s special Friday treat.  If you prefer, you can send in ten dollars to cover the summer.  Sincerely, Ann Powell, Preschool Coordinator..”

“I can’t do this,” she says softly.  “I tried.  I thought I could, y’know, if they helped me.  But I can’t.”  Now she makes eye contact with him again.  “You were good with Lottie.  Elaine told me so.  She says Lottie loves you and you took good care of her.  I know that’s true ‘cause you’re all she’s talked about.”  Her bottom lip trembles, and Rafael feels his stomach clench again. “And you didn’t mess with her.  I ain’t ever met a man who didn’t try to mess with a girl when no one was watchin’.”  She sighs.  “You must be gay or somethin’.”

He’s not sure what to say, other than it makes him a little sick to think that every man this young woman has encountered has wanted or taken something from her, so much so that he’s some kind of weird anomaly.  But before he can voice it,  Meadow’s expression steels itself, and her lip stops trembling.  “You want her?  You wanna be Lottie’s daddy?”

He’s never been more dumbstruck than he is in this moment.  Of course he wants Lottie!  More than just about anything, he wants to bring Lottie home and for them to be a family–she could go back to Manhattan with him and go to a really good school.  She could meet Sonny and have two strong, nurturing adults to care for her.  She could–

“I know you do.”  Meadow answers her own question and is nervously scratching her arm.  “You’re a lawyer, ain’t you?  You can have her, Mr. Barba.  Here.”  Reaching in her bag she pulls out several papers folded together.  Glancing at the top of them, she nods, then hands them to him.

It’s a legal custody agreement, along with termination of parental rights paperwork.  Together, signed and notarized, these papers mean that Lottie is no longer Meadow’s daughter, and instead, Rafael has permanent parental rights.  As he flips through, he realizes they’re all in order–all that’s missing is their signatures and the notary.

“I know you got money.  Lottie told me,” Meadow starts, and Rafael feels his skin turn clammy.  “You can have her, along with all that fancy stuff you got her, but I need some help too.  It’s only fair that you gotta help me too, Mr. Barba…I’m her momma and if I was still pregnant, you’d have to pay for all my medical stuff,  Plus probably an allowance and all that kinda stuff–”

“I can’t pay you,” Rafael interrupts her,feeling anger filling his veins.  “It’s illegal, Meadow.  You’re not allowed to buy and sell human beings…that’s called trafficking.”

“But you can give me a gift,” she insists, and the certainty in her expression makes him uneasy.  “I sign custody papers for you to be Lottie’s legal guardian, and you…help me.  You pay my tuition in school, help with my rent, so I can do somethin’ with my life.  I wasn’t always a loser,” she adds.  “You can ask Elaine.  She was my worker, too.”

That sudden knowledge shakes him to his core.  Elaine knew this woman when she was a child, a little girl before the abuse and the drugs and the pregnancy.  Elaine was ultimately in charge of Meadow’s welfare, and this–this broken girl in front of him–is what happened.  

He feels Lottie’s chances snuffed out, like a flame.

He clears his throat.  “Guardianship situations are generally created for families or emergency situations in which the parents die.  Not for young women to blackmail middle-aged men over children, regardless of motive.” He watches as she nervously picks at her nail, then crosses her arms.  “Meadow, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you money for Lottie.  And if you sell her–to anyone–you’ll go to jail for the rest of your life.”

She blinks.  “You don’t want her?”

“I don’t want to go to jail for trafficking,” he reiterated.  There’s a silence between them as he considers his next words.  “If you don’t want to raise your daughter, or you feel that you can’t, I will be happy to adopt her.  We can do a private adoption, where the state isn’t involved at all.  I would pay all of the expenses for the adoption, as well as some supportive funds for you in the first year after, depending on what the law in Iowa says–”

“Supportive funds,” she repeats.  “What’s that?”

“Rent, food, therapy if you feel you need it…possibly utilities.  It depends, and it’s different in every state.  But it’s illegal for me to give you a lump sum of money for your daughter, Meadow,” he repeats.

She scowls at him.  “I’m not going to just give her to you.  She’s all that I’ve got that’s worth anything.  If I keep her, at least I get money from the state.  That’s better than what you’re offering, ain’t it?”

Before he can stop himself, the words come out.  “What I’m offering is a chance for Lottie to have a life that’s better than yours.  I’m offering her a way out, a loving home, a good education.  I would think if you really love her, you’d want that for her–”

“What about me?” she snaps, and tears slide down her cheeks.  “Why is it always about Lottie?  What’s so fucking special about HER?  Did anyone ever give me any of those things?”  She stood from the couch, hands curled into fists by her sides.  “Elaine lost her shit when I paddled her ass with a wooden spoon, but what’d she do when Ted and Linda beat me with a damn electrical cord?  Or when I first moved in with the Daniels’, and they served me spinach.  Guess what happens if you don’t like spinach in the Daniels’ house?  It’s served to you until you eat it, no matter how old it is, and you don’t get anything else until it’s gone.  All of it.  So when Lottie don’t eat somethin’, and I don’t give her anymore food that day to punish her, somehow I’m the bad one?  At least I’m not makin’ her eat the spinach that’s been sittin’ on the counter for two days with flies on it.” 

She was visibly shaking and crying.  “I didn’t wanna have a kid,” she chokes out.  “I didn’t even wanna have sex.  But nobody asked me.  Nobody ever asked me what I cared about anything.”  She’s sobbing now, arms wrapped around her slim body.  “Do you got any idea how hard it is to graduate high school when they move you around?  And when you’re pregnant?”  

Rafael’s mind is racing almost as quickly as his heart is, watching Meadow break down.  The human and the lawyer in him are fighting over who’s going to speak first, but the human wins when he stands up and steps closer to her.  “Meadow,” he says quietly, barely audible above her tears, “I’m sorry those things happened to you.  Sit down and let’s talk some more, okay?  C’mon.”

Ten minutes ago, he’d been convinced she was a druggie looking to shake him down for money in exchange for her daughter, and all he saw was a broken, useless person.  Now, as she slowly sinks to his couch, curling in on herself against the arm of it, he sees a part of her that nobody’s ever seen before.

He sees a victim.  And he has a responsibility to help her, especially if he loves her daughter the way he says he does.

He leaves her on the couch and walks into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water before reaching into the cabinets.  Olivia Benson is in his brain, reminding him of the importance of connecting with victims, of nurturing and bonding.  He’s thinking about some article he read once about how certain foods are more comforting and help to nurture, and he gathers a few: cookies, grapes, a little cheese and baguette slices, a bit of peanut butter.  Carrying them into his living room, he sets them on the coffee table, then hands her a plate and a water bottle.

“Why don’t we eat a little bit, and we can chat, if you want,” he invites, and watches as she wipes her eyes with her fists, like Lottie does, and then nods slowly.

*November 2012, eight years ago*

“With all due respect, this was a waste of time,” he told Benson as they climbed back into the sedan.  The trip to Manor Hill had been useless; he had no more evidence now than he’d had when he’d woken up this morning.  All he had was a handful of tearjerking stories from men who said they’d been raped by members of this faculty.  “I’m a prosecutor, not a healer,” he reminded her.  He had no interest in pursuing social work; his hands were full enough with the law.

Shooting him a glance across the car, Benson pulled out her keys.  “All due respect, as a prosecutor, don’t you want to make a case?  I know something criminal went on here.  So do you.”

Chapter Text

“You’re sure she’s gone for the whole weekend?” Rafael asks, catching his breath between kisses.  They’re in Lauren’s bedroom and she’s practically lying on top of him. If he weren’t so paranoid her mother would walk in, his dick would explode in his pants, like, NOW.

She giggles softly, then kisses him again.  “Positive, Rafi.  What, have you changed your mind?”

It’s Valentine’s Day, and ever since they learned that Lila would be out of town, they’d been planning to spend the night together.  They’ve been dating since September, and he’s never known love could be like this.  She’s the reason he breathes; he’d do anything for her without a second thought.  They control themselves well in public, and haven’t even done very much when they’ve been alone.  It’s all he thinks about, though, and he knows Lauren thinks about it too.  She even told him once that she’d thought about it while touching herself, and that image had stayed with him a long time.  He’s never gone all the way with anyone before, and he knows she hasn’t either.  They’re certain they want this first to be one they do together.  They’ve talked about it every day over the last few weeks, what they think it’ll be like and what they want.  Lauren’s always sayingt she wants it to be special.  For her, he wants it to be perfect.

He smiles at her, cupping her chin with his hand.  “No, I haven’t changed my mind.  I love you, Laurie.”

He’d brought her flowers and candy, taken her to dinner, and managed to swipe a cheap bottle of  champagne with the help of an older buddy.  After dinner, they came back and opened the champagne.  They’ve been drinking and touching and talking up until now, and his brain feels soft and fuzzy and pleasant.  Of course he hasn’t changed his mind.  She’s fucking beautiful, he thinks, as she sits up and slowly pulls her shirt off, then unclasps her bra.

Everything seems to move quickly from there.  He’s touching and being touched, and there are kisses and sweet words being whispered, and he swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  When he finally dares to reach between her legs, she sighs and shudders nearly instantly, and his first thought is that he’s somehow hurt her, somehow ruined this.  His fingers stop stroking her curls and he whispers, “Laurie?  You okay?”

A soft giggle tickles his ear.  “I just came is all,” she whispers back, and he’s grinning as he slides two fingers inside of her.  Jesus, she’s wet…so wet…he doesn’t remember her this wet before.  Suddenly, it crosses his mind that she’s aroused because she wants him, and that thought excites him so intensely that he swears his cock just stiffened even more, and he groans.

“You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah…you ready, Laurie?” he asks and at her nod, he opens the condom next to him and carefully puts it on, adjusting himself as he goes.  Once he’s sure it’s on properly, he looks up at her biting his lip.  She’s tangling her hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him.  She’s gloriously naked, and every inch of her is more gorgeous than he’s ever imagined.

And when he presses inside of her a few minutes later, trying desperately to go slow when every cell in him is screaming to go faster, he feels her fingers clutch into his muscles tightly.  “You okay, baby?” he whispers.  “Want me to stop?”

She shakes her head quickly.  “I love you, Rafi,” she returns, and her eyelids flutter shut when he finally pushes inside.  “I love you,” she whispers again.

“I love you too…so much,” he gasps, and then his body takes control.

It’s the most beautiful, amazing moment of his life thus far.

***

Meadow spreads some peanut butter onto a piece of the baguette, then eats it slowly.  “Lottie said you guys eat lots of fruit,” she says randomly.  “I was gonna buy them kid oranges like you said she likes, but they’re too expensive.  They’re like, six dollars for a bag!  She got mad at me when I wouldn’t get ‘em.  We eat ramen noodles at least two times a week…there’s no way I’m buyin’ them oranges.”

“I thought you got food stamps…” he starts, and at her glare, stops speaking.  

“I get two hundred bucks a month to feed me and Lottie.  And they don’t give refunds for picky eaters, y’know?”  She picks a couple of grapes and pops one in her mouth.  “I know you think I’m a bitch who don’t feed her kid, or some kinda moron for her using a bottle.  She don’t waste it in a bottle.  In a cup, she spills it, and I don’t got extra to give her.  In a bottle, she can’t spill it.  And I don’t got any of those sippy cups with a lid.  She don’t like ‘em and won’t use ‘em with me.”

“She used them here, but it may be because I took the bottle away so she had to,” Rafael explains, and Meadow looks surprised.

“If I did that, she’d scream like I was beatin’ the devil outta her, and then I get into trouble,” she grumbles.  “I’m always in trouble with her if she screams.

He sits quietly for a few minutes, watching her eat and gathering his nerves to ask the questions he really wants the answers to.  Finally, he forces it out.  “You said you didn’t want to have her…that you didn’t even want to have sex,” he recalls from earlier.  “Did somebody force you?”

She starts to laugh, then rolls her eyes.  “Boy, for a lawyer, you sure are a genius, aren’t you?”  She chuckles again, then sniffs.  “It’s easier to think we’re all just sluts, right?”  Now her eyes focus on his.  “I don’t know a single girl who aimed to get knocked up.  And I know a lotta girls.  And most of us didn’t even wanna do it in the first place…at least not with the guy who was makin’ us do it.  But like I said, nobody ever asked me what I wanted.  They just told me if I was gonna stay, I was gonna do what they said.  And if I didn’t, they made me do it anyway.”

“Lottie’s father…he forced you?”

“The first time,” she replies.  “After awhile, I just gave up an’ gave him what he wanted.  It was easier.  I didn’t wanna leave…his family was nice, other than him.”  She laughs lightly to herself.  “I thought he was nice too, til the first time he made me do it.  I thought he liked me.  He’d been nice to me since I’d moved in…even told me I was pretty, hugged me, all that shit.  On my thirteenth birthday, he gave me a necklace with my birthstone.  It was really pretty, and he said…” Her voice softens.  “He said he loved me.  And I thought he did, until a couple weeks later when he forced me.”

“Did you tell him no?” Rafael asks.

“Yeah.  I thought he’d stop, too.  I was a dumbass.  He pulled back and looked at me, then said I could either do it with him, or he’d make me.  I tried to get up, and he pinned me down to the mattress and did it, just like that.  Hurt like a bitch.”  She’s crying, and wipes her nose with her arm roughly.  “I learned pretty quick never to go around him alone again, but he always found a way.”

He watches as she once again starts to close up, knees pressed together tightly, arms crossing around her small body.  “How old were you when this started, again?” he asked, knowing she’s already told him.  He’s having trouble remembering all of the information–it’s too shocking.

She shrugs.  “With the sex?  Twelve or thirteen…but they’d been messin’ with me since I didn’t eat the spinach.”

“And when did that happen?” he asks.

“A week after I went to live with them.  Right after my daddy died.  There was nobody else to take care of me, they said, so I got put into the system.  I went to some lady’s house first; they said she was the emergency care lady.  But after a few weeks, they moved me to the Daniels’.  I stayed there for almost a year.  They moved me the day before my birthday, when I turned seven.  I thought I was gonna have a party with my friends.  That’s what they told me.  They lied.”  She opens her water and takes a long drink.  “You wanna know more?”

“Yes,” he says nearly compulsively.  “Please.  I want to know your whole story. In fact, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to just write a few things down so I don’t forget them…”  He reaches into the end table drawer and pulls out a small notebook, then shuffles things around until he finds a pen.  “Is it okay if I take notes?” he asks again.

She’s looking at him as though he’s odd.  “I guess, if you want to,” she agrees, and then continues.  “So next I lived with the Baxters for three years.  They were the ones with the cord.  You fuck up at their house and they don’t give you extra days to eat your spinach, they just beat the crap outta you.  And I guess it was there when all the touching started…one night after they beat me for something, I was crying, and Ted came in to my room and told me he could ‘make it all better’.  He lied about that, too.”  She sniffs again.  “They all lie, all the time.  That’s what I tell Lottie, but she says you don’t lie.”  She shoots him an uncertain glance.  “Why you wanna know all this stuff, anyway?”

Now he shrugs.  “I guess I’m curious about Lottie’s father.  Do you know who he is?”

Now she glares at him.  “No, I’m a total slut.  Maybe if I wasn’t doing the whole softball team, I’d know.”  Her tone is dripping with sarcasm, and he can tell that people have assumed a wide variety of things about her before that just aren’t true.  “Of course I know who he is!  I said I didn’t wanna do it, I didn’t say I was knocked out!”

“And you told him no…that you didn’t want to have sex,” he repeats, and she rolls her eyes at him, but her silence is confirmation enough.

He knows how important this dance is; to push gently when it’s time, to wait patiently when it isn’t.  He’s watched Benson and the other detectives do it hundreds of times.  Just as he’s starting to doubt that he’s skilled enough to engage her out of a courtroom, she speaks.

“It was my last home…the Lassiters,” she says, but her voice is soft and her eyes are teary.  “They were nice.  She was a teacher and he was a principal at an elementary school or something.  They told me from the first day they’d never hit me, and they didn’t.  They treated me just like their other kids.  They had two boys and one girl.”  She rubs her eyes, wiping away tears and smudging her makeup.  

“So it was the dad there…did you tell anyone?” he asks, handing her a tissue.

She snorts.  “You’re just like everyone else, see?  Jumping to conclusions…it wasn’t the dad.  It was never the dad.  He was the nicest guy…” 

She’s sniffling again when it hits him.  “Which one of the sons?” he asks, feeling queasy at the thought.

“Logan, the older one.  He was in college.  After the first time, I tried to make him leave me alone and I told him I’d tell his mom and dad.  He just laughed and said, ‘you really think they’d believe you over me?  All I gotta do is say you came on to me and they’ll ship you outta here.’  So I never said anything.  He was a creep, but he lived in the dorms.  They were nice, and I wanted to stay.”

“What about Elaine?” Rafael asked.  “Even after you got pregnant, you didn’t tell her about this boy?”

“After?” Meadow repeats angrily.  “After, I wanted an abortion.  I went to Logan first, and he said I was a slut and it wasn’t his.  No surprise there.  So I went to Elaine and told her I needed help and wanted an abortion.  She said the state doesn’t pay for my mistakes and it was time I grew up and learned that.  We got into a huge fight and I told her that it was Logan and he’d been making me do it ever since I moved in when I was thirteen or something.”

“And what did she do?”

“She moved me to a group home.  That night.”

“Whoa, whoa…wait,” Rafael says, shaking his head, trying to follow the story.  “But she took you to the police station at some point, right?  The hospital?”

Meadow’s staring at him like he just sprouted another head.  “No,” she says slowly.  “Why would she?  It’s not illegal to get pregnant, Mr. Barba.”

“No,” he replies, “but it IS illegal to get somebody pregnant when they’ve told you they don’t want to have sex with you. It’s also illegal for a young man of Logan’s age–in college–to get a young girl of fifteen pregnant.  And it’s definitely illegal for a college-age student to have sex with a thirteen-year old, especially when she says no.”  Lacing his fingers together, he flexes them back and forth.  “Meadow, did anyone ever tell Logan’s parents that you said he’s the father of Lottie?”

She shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think so.  One time, when I was shoppin’ for  baby stuff, I ran into Maureen and Lucy…the mom and the little sister…Maureen hugged me a real long time and told me she missed me and prayed for me every night.”  Glancing at him, she added, “They go to church.”

“But she didn’t seem upset, didn’t seem to know this might be her grandchild?”

Meadow shakes her head.  “Nope.  Nothin’ like that.”  A soft, affectionate smile slips across her lips.  “She told me to graduate, no matter what…to promise her that I would.  And I did.  Both, I mean…promise her and graduate.”

The irony that this girl's biggest motivator and detractor of her future lived in the same home is not lost on him.  “Meadow,  what happened after Lottie was born?” he asks.  “Did you take any parenting classes, or did you receive any support?”

She shakes her head.  “I took parenting classes when Lottie lived with you, but nobody ever said nothin’ about ‘em before.”

“And once she was born…you said you were in a group home?  Did you stay there?”

“Yeah…it was a home for pregnant girls and then I guess, their babies when they were born…but only until you’re eighteen.  They help watch your kid and stuff, so I could finish school while I lived there. I was lucky ‘cause I graduated before I turned eighteen.  Once you’re eighteen, you’re outta there and on your own.  They give you a hundred bucks on your birthday and say, ‘see ya!’  Your worker’s supposed to have helped you to find a place to live before that.”  She starts picking at her nails again.

“And did she?” Rafael asks, mind completely blown.  Clearly, he wasn’t the only seventeen year old required to do things far beyond his years.  “Did Elaine find you housing?”

She nods.  “Yeah, some little apartment up on Devin street…it was a one room place and it had mice.  The landlord told me to get a cat, but I couldn’t ‘cause I had a baby.”  At his puzzled expression, she continued.  “You know…cats and babies…they’ll smother them.  Suck the air right out of ‘em.”

“I, uh…I think that’s a myth, Meadow,” he tells her, frowning at the thought.

“Well, fine.  You try it out on YOUR baby, then.”  She bites her cuticle for a minute.  “All I know’s is I didn’t want my baby to be smothered…so I ended up moving in with Tony.  He’s a guy I knew in high school.  He was fine, except when Lottie screamed.  He hated that.  He started screamin’ back at her, and then the neighbors called the cops and reported ME to DHS.  The second time it happened, he got really pissed and told me we had to leave.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

She sighs.  “A shelter, first, for awhile, until I caught another one of the people there tryin’ to mess with Lottie.  She won’t even two yet–”

Rafael sits up straighter again.  “Did you report that?”

“To who?” she asks.  “I told the shelter guard and he said it’s my fault that I won’t watchin’ her close enough.  He said if it happened again he’d call the cops and they’d take her away from me.  So we left.”

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his temples. “So then where’d you go?”

“To a friend of mine’s, Erin.  She dropped outta college and was workin’ at Target, and livin’ with her boyfriend.  She said I could rent the other room in their apartment, and she’d help me get a job.  So I started workin’ at Target, and applied for benefits from the state.  Lottie stayed with some lady down the street and the state paid her.  They paid for my room at Erin’s and gave me food stamps.  That was the best we ever were doing, there.  I finally had money for us to eat and to live with a roof over our heads.  But then Erin got pregnant and they needed both rooms, so me and Lottie had to leave again.  Aren’t you bored yet?” she asks as he jots down a couple things, but he shakes his head.

“Nope.  Keep going.  Where’d you go then?”

“I moved in with someone from work.  She had a two-bedroom apartment.  It was more expensive, but I could make it as long as I gave her half my food stamps too…but she didn’t like Lottie.  She was always callin’ her names, makin’ fun of her and stuff.  So did her boyfriend.  Gross stuff…stuff like, ‘cunt’ and ‘little slut’ and stuff if she ran around in just her diaper.  So I started makin’ Lottie always wear her clothes, and I never left her with them alone.  But then one afternoon, we were both takin’ a nap, and I woke up and heard them laughing at her.  She’d run out there in just her diaper again and they were making fun of her, and yeah, I scooped her up and beat her ass.  She couldn’t keep doin’ that, you know? Better her butt hurt for a few ‘cause I hit it than those two do something freaky to her! She needed to learn to listen to me and keep her fuckin clothes on!”  She crosses her arms defiantly.  “Erin called child protective services and told them I was a child abuser.  She made up all kinds of stuff about me, and when they found out I’d been in the system before, they took Lottie away and we ended up back on Elaine’s caseload.”

He’s watching her quietly, observing her body language.  From everything he knows, she’s telling him the truth, even when some of it has been uncomfortable for her.  “So you did hit her…were there any bruises or marks on her because of it?”

Now she stares at him for a long moment.  “Whatcha tryin’ to say?  I just beat my kid for no reason?  I told you why I did it.  And I didn’t do it every day.  I don’t go around smackin’ her just whenever!”

“I didn’t say you did,” he clarifies calmly, thinking about his previous conversations with Elaine.  So much of this information had been left out, or twisted just slightly to the point that he wasn’t certain how much was true.  “The state has to have a reason to take your child away, Meadow, and they can’t do it just because your roommate makes an accusation against you.  There has to be evidence.”

They sit in silence again, Meadow’s arms crossed over her chest again, until she finally sighs.  “They say she got a bruise on her butt. I dunno.  I was real mad at her, and I was scared, too, that they were gonna mess with her.  So I took her into our room and shut the door and told her to lay down on the bed, an’ then I grabbed my ruler.  When she saw it, she started yelling no, an’ she tried to get up and run.  But I caught her an’ pushed her down on the bed an’ held her there.  ‘You wear your clothes!’ I told her, but she kept screamin’, so I hit her on the butt with the ruler.  I hit her a coupla times and kept tellin’ her to keep her clothes on so people don’t think she’s a little slut…that’s what they were callin’ her…she screamed some more an’ I told her if she didn’t stop I’d spank her bare butt.  I was afraid the neighbors would call the cops, like they did at Tony’s, and we’d have to move again.  But she wouldn’t stop.  So I yanked her diaper down and spanked her like that, with the ruler.”

“Get back here, you little shit!” Rafael stayed under his bed, hidden, praying that Papi would forget about him.  He hadn’t meant to knock over his father’s last beer; he’d just been so excited about the game they’d been watching.  At six, he loved whatever game his papi loved, and so when they’d scored, he’d jumped up and down, hollering and running in circles.  Papi and Mami had laughed until he suddenly tripped over Papi’s beer.  “Oh mijo!” his mother had gasped, and the look in her eyes told him to do what already came natural–to run and hide from his father.

Slowly, Rafael asks, “What made you stop?”

She shrugs.  “I dunno!  It was enough–I wasn’t gonna beat her to death or nothin’!  I’m not a monster.  But yeah, her butt was red after.  I put another diaper on her and got her dressed, and asked her what she learned.  An’ she said she had to wear her clothes.  Then I told her she was a good girl and I hugged and kissed her.”  She stopped speaking, carefully watching his expression for any sign of judgment.  “What?  You got somethin’ to say about it?  I know, you’re some kind of parenting genius.  We all already know!  But I didn’t hit her with any cord an’ I didn’t leave any scars on her.  I didn’t let someone mess with her, and you know what else?  I hugged her and kissed her!  AND I told her she was a good kid!  When has anyone ever told me that stuff?”  Suddenly, she’s silent, and it causes Rafael to look at her curiously.

“What is it, Meadow?” he asks, and sees her visibly shake before wrapping her arms around herself.

“Elaine…Elaine said…”  She stops speaking, staring at something on the table, then shakes her head.  “She said the reason nobody ever told me that is because I wasn’t good.  All I’ve been is trouble, and it’s all I’ll ever be, and I should give up Lottie before I end up in prison or something.”

They sit in silence again as her words sink in, and Rafael tries to imagine a world in which no one, absolutely no one, believes that he could do or be any good.  Even in his darkest moments, he’s always had someone whispering sweet, positive truths in his ear.  When Aiden died, it was Lauren and his mother and abuelita.  When Drew died, it was Sonny and Olivia.  

When he lost Lottie, it was Sonny, yet again, making sure he was never left in the darkness alone for very long.

“Meadow,” he says quietly, “do you know that Social Services is responsible for some of the things that happened to you, and to Lottie?”

“What?” she asks, sounding a bit dazed.  He wonders if she’s been dissociating during this conversation.  “You mean, like, legally?”

“Yes,” he responds.  “And this Logan fellow, Lottie’s father, is guilty of rape.  Have you ever thought about bringing charges against him?  Or filing a civil suit against the state?”

She blinks again.  “I don’t know what you just said to me.”

He nods, then swallows.  Drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, he continues.  “The state is responsible for children in its care.  Elaine is a state worker, and therefore, anything she did or didn’t do that violated your rights is something the state can be charged with.  From what you’ve told me tonight, at the very least, the state could be held responsible for child physical and sexual abuse, denial of medical care, and educational neglect.”

“You keep saying charged with.  You can’t put a whole state in prison, Mr. Barba–even I know that,” she retorts, and he smiles.

“You’re right.  But we can file a case in civil court, where they deal with different kinds of punishments.  What happens is we file certain papers, and when it’s your turn, we go to court and tell a judge about the ways the state violated your rights.  We present witnesses.  Then the state tells their side, and the judge decides if indeed your rights were violated.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, nodding.  “Then what happens when the judge tells them they were wrong…they messed with my rights?  I mean, they can’t go back and fix it.”

“No, they can’t,” he agrees, “but they can make the state pay something called compensatory damages.  That’s the money the judge decides you should have to make up for the ways the state has hurt you.  He looks at what the state did and how it affected you, and how different your life might be if the state hadn’t hurt you the way it did.  He looks at how much money you might be making, as well as how much damage the state has caused—for instance, how much it costs to raise a child conceived in rape, or the amount of therapy you and Lottie might need in the future.  He takes all of that into account and comes up with a number, and orders the state to pay it.”

“And what do they get?” she asks.  “Do they take Lottie again, and keep her?”

“No,” he says firmly.  “As long as you are caring appropriately for Lottie, they cannot take her from you.  But it would be a good idea for you to keep taking parenting classes…and if you do get money from a lawsuit, use it to make Lottie’s life better.  Unless you don’t want her.  You said before that you didn’t.”

“I didn’t, when I got pregnant,” she admits again.  “I was scared.  I still am ‘cause I don’t know how to keep us safe…”  Blinking back tears, she says, “I want my Lottie.  That’s why I worked to get her back, Mr. Barba.  I’m her momma, and I’m all she’s got…unless you take her.”

He sighs heavily.  “What if I told you I wanted to help you be able to take care of her?  To learn how to be a good mom, and to have the stuff you need to do it?  Would you want to keep her then?”

She nods.  “More’n anything.  I just…I love my girl.”

Rafael closes the notebook and lays it aside.  “I’m not an expert in this, but I’ll tell you what.  You need to keep going to parenting classes.  Then we need to hire you a lawyer who IS an expert,” he says, folding his hands together.  “And if we can prove the story you just told me, the state owes you millions.  Enough to care for you and Lottie for a long, long time.”

Chapter Text

“These fireworks…they remind me of how I feel, hearing your passion or seeing it in action,” Sonny says, smiling and nudging his shoulder.  They’re sitting on the roof of Rafael’s building in Des Moines, watching the city’s fireworks above them.  “Yeah, go ahead and call me hokey.  I don’t care…that’s what you do to me.”

Rafael’s eyes are gazing deeply into his, as though he still can’t quite believe that Sonny is there.  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he murmurs as their faces draw closer.  “You know I can’t guarantee you anything–”

Sonny’s hand catches Rafael’s chin and cradles it gently.  “Can you promise you’ll try?” he asks.  “That you’ll make us a priority, as much as you did before?”  

“Of course I will, Dominick.  I love you,” Rafael whispers, his eyelids fluttering almost sleepily.  This entire evening has felt surreal, and if it’s a dream, he never wants to wake up.

“Then we have nothing to worry about, love.”  Sonny’s lips softly caress Rafael’s.and Rafael’s hand reaches up to stroke Sonny’s cheek.  The kiss is sweet and loving and soft, until Rafael finally pushes at Sonny’s chest with his hand.

“Kids,” he murmurs, and as Sonny pulls back, he takes a look around the roof, noting a handful of children playing and watching fireworks with their families.

“What, you think they’re too young to learn basic lessons about the birds and the bees?” Sonny teases softly, and Rafael chuckles as he pulls himself up.

“I don’t know about them,” he replies quietly, “but I’m all about you teaching me…downstairs, in the apartment.”

Sonny quickly follows Rafael through the exit door and back down the stairwell, giving the ass in front of him an occasional pat until they’re once again in front of Rafael’s door.  “Did I ever tell you,” he begins, “that Van Halen’s ‘Hot For Teacher’ used to be one of my favorite songs?”

Letting them into the apartment, Rafael narrows his eyes.  “I’m not singing that song while we make out,” he states matter-of-factly.  “That’s weird.”

“Aww,” Sonny groans as he pulls off his tank top, “even if I give you an A?”

Shedding his own tank top, Rafael steps closer to his lover, then reaches out to stroke warm skin.  “Fuck the A,” he smirks.  “Gimme a blow job if you want me to sing that ridiculous shit.”

It takes Sonny less than ten seconds to get on his knees.

***

When Rafael had picked up the phone after Meadow left, he’d never anticipated the outcome. 

“So you’re not coming back to Manhattan right now?” Sonny asked, surprised, until Rafael began to explain the last several hours.  Sonny sat quietly, listening to the other man recount Meadow’s history, until finally Rafael stopped speaking.

“You done?” Sonny asked.

Rafael felt his heart beat more quickly.  He knew it was asking a hell of a ot of Sonny to understand him putting off this move, but if anyone would understand…”Yeah.  I’m done.”

There was a heavy sigh before Sonny asked, “So how many felonies you count in there against this girl?  I’ve got at least four, but I’m no expert in children’s law.”

“It’s more than that,” Rafael responded.  “The obvious ones–physical abuse, physical neglect, sexual abuse, and rape, are there, but then there’s also educational neglect, emotional abuse, and quite likely several charges of conspiracy–I’m sure there’s more than three adults who knew these things were happening and did nothing.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Sonny asked, 

Rafael swallowed hard.  “I’m…I’m gonna find an attorney who can help her.  Pro bono.  And stick around long enough to make sure it gets to court.”

There was a prolonged silence, then Sonny said, “You know, I haven’t had a vacation since I started with the NYPD.  Bosses are always on me about using up some of those days…I must have at least three or four months right now.  I don’t have any big cases going on. And I’ve always wanted to just blow ‘em all in Idaho.”

“Iowa,” Rafael corrected, grinning.

“Sure, whatever,” Sonny replies.  “Think I could stay with you for a bit?”

“For as long as you want, Carisi,” he replies.  “As long as you want.”

***

“So you work out the list of attorneys?” Sonny asks, chewing on the cap of his pen over breakfast.  “I think I’ve got the main crimes we’re going to wanna discuss.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.  Narrowed it down to seven–the seven best in the area, I think,” Rafael replies, tapping his notepad.  “Hopefully someone will bite.  This is a huge case, y’know.  If they did this to Meadow, chances are this has happened to a lot of kids over the years.”

Sonny stops chewing and glances at Rafael.  “That worry you?”

Rafael sits back and sighs.  “Yeah.  Of course.  It’s always hard to take down an institution.  I mean, I keep thinking about Jeanette Grayson, and everything she said on the stand.  For a long time, I thought she was nuts…until I started caring for Lottie, and saw firsthand some of the things she talked about. It’s hard to imagine some of the things kids go through, and nobody wants to imagine it, much less confront it.  It’s too horrific.”  He stretches his legs out under the table, then crosses his arms.  “And to ask people to do something about it…that’s some hard work, y’know?”

Sonny hums.  “You keep thinking about Jeanette Grayson…I keep thinking about Keisha Hughes.  She was supposed to be eight years old, Rafi…looked like she was four.  And the smell on her…it wasn’t just death, and it wasn’t just being dirty.  It was a mix of dying in filth in a way no one deserves.”  He clears his throat.  “Just so you know, I’m in a hundred percent.  Whatever you do or think is best, I’m right here with you.”  He grins and pats the other man’s back.  “Like Batman and Robin.”

“Dork” Rafael teases, nudging him back, “I’m gonna relegate you to the back of the Batmobile.”

Sonny chuckles.  “I’d go happily…we both know you’d be back there with me in a matter of minutes.”  Rafael makes a face in response, and Sonny leans forward impulsively and kisses him thoroughly.  “I love my Robin,” he murmurs between kisses, and Rafael pinches his hip.

*****

“You comfy?” Rafael asks, adjusting the pillows behind Lauren one more time.  She nods, smiling sweetly at him.

“Rafi.”  Taking his hand in hers, she squeezes it, then rests it on her belly.  “I don’t care what anyone says, or what anyone thinks, even you.  You’re gonna be the best daddy ever.  I already know.  I can tell.”

He strokes her belly delicately.  Nobody knows, but his deepest, strongest wish is that she’s right–that he turns out to be some amazing, kickass dad.  He smiles back at her.  “I hope I just do right by you guys…I just don’t ever want this baby to be embarrassed by me, you know?”

She cups his cheek.  “That could never happen, Rafi.  You’re smart and kind, and you love your baby already…and you love me.”

He grins, then leans over and kisses her.  “Yeah, I do.  You’re amazing, Lauren Sullivan.”

She gently runs a hand through his hair.  “So are you, baby,” she whispers, then leans over to kiss him again.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure I gotta do this?” Meadow asks, nervously scratching at her neck.  She’s in the shortest jeans shorts Rafael thinks he’s ever seen, plus a pink tank top and clearly, no bra.  

“I’m positive,” he replies calmly.  “The police are going to need something to go on, even if it’s years later.  It’s better to file the report late than never file it at all.”  He turns to Sonny.  “What do you think?”

Sonny sits down in the chair next to Meadow.  “I’m a former detective with the NYPD,” he begins.  “Look, I know this is hard.  Rafael’s been catching me up on some of the things you’ve gone through, and I can understand why you wouldn’t want to tell other people, and why you wouldn’t trust people to fix this–”

“Fix this?” she repeats.  “How do you even fix this?  My whole life is a mess.  I make bad decision after bad decision.  Mr. Barba can tell you.  I know he heard stuff from Lottie.”  She glances at Rafael, then turns her focus back to Sonny.  “I know he thinks somehow, somebody’s gonna give me money because a couple loser dads felt me up and then I wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to avoid Lottie’s sperm donor.  But what’s gonna happen when they find out I beat my kid?  Or that I used to shoot up, and sometimes still do?  Or…or…that I made my rent last month by sleeping with a manager at a grocery store downtown?  I mean, he’s got a wife and two kids–”

Sonny’s shaking his head.  “None of that matters, Meadow,” he tells her, but Rafael interrupts.

“Sonny’s right,” he begins, “but it’s important that you don’t do that anymore.  If you can’t make your rent, you let me know.  Same with utilities or food on the table.  Any of your basics…if you’re struggling, you let me know and we’ll make sure it’s covered.  From now on, Meadow, it is really, really important that you do NOT prostitute yourself anymore.  Understand?”

She sighs.  “Yeah, except…”

Rafael’s eyes go wide.  “What?  What is it?”

She sighs again, then speaks quickly.  “Well, I just promised the guy who did my piercings that I’d pay him through sex and I still owe him a blow job, so I’ve gotta pay up–”

“Where is he?” Sonny asks.

“He’s not gay,” she tells him.  “He’s not gonna let YOU suck him off.”

“I wasn’t volunteering to,” Sonny clarifies.  “Tell me where he is, and I’ll go pay him whatever you owe.  Trust me, if he has the money he can pay somebody else to get him off, if that’s his thing.  Where is he?”

Once Meadow shares the address, Sonny stands to go take care of the debt.  “Should I go with you?” she asks him as he checks his gun, then puts it into the holster around his waist.

“No,” Rafael tells her.  “You need to be here with me, reviewing what you’re going to tell the police when we go over there in a little while.  You’re going to focus on the abuse you suffered from Logan Lassiter.  That’s the report you need to tell them about.”

“Okay,” she says slowly.  “Are you gonna go with me?”

He waves to Sonny, then gives a short, cursory nod.  “If you feel more comfortable with me there, but they won’t want me to sit with you while you talk with them.  I’ll be in the waiting room.  And you need to change into something more…appropriate…before we go.”

She looks down.  “What’s wrong with this?  You don’t like pink?”

“The shirt is fine,” he states, writing on his notepad so he doesn’t have to look at her.  “But you need to wear a bra, and it would be better to wear a pair of jeans than shorts like that.”

Meadow huffs at him.  “Well, I think I look pretty!”

“Look,” Rafael says, making eye contact this time, “this isn’t Erin Brokovich.  Those cops are more likely to take you seriously if you’re wearing more conservative clothes.  That’s just the reality.  We can stop by your house on the way.”  He stands and gathers his things, but when he looks at her, she’s still sitting there on his couch, watching him.  “What’s wrong?” he asks

She shakes her head.  “I don’t like people comin’ into my house.  Who’s to say you ain’t gonna call Elaine and report me again for something?”

“That’s not what we’re doing today,” he says, a little worried about what he might see.  “Look, if you want me to wait outside I will, but I’d rather come inside as a friend, and if I see anything that alarms me, I’ll let you know and we will fix it together, okay?”

She looks suspicious, unsure if she can believe him, but nods slowly.  “Fine.  Bra and jeans. Let’s go.”

He lets out a nervous breath, grabs his keys and wallet, and heads toward the door.

***

“Hush little baby, don’t you cry…”

He can hear Lauren singing to Aiden as soon as he opens the door.  Lila and her boyfriend have gone to Atlantic City for the weekend, so it’s just the three of them.  He was hoping to leave work early, but it hadn’t worked out. 

Stepping through the mess of a living room, he impulsively begins to pick up the items his girlfriend has left out–bottles, books, diapers and onesies and blankets.  If Lila walked in now, she’d have a fit, he thinks, but he knows how much Aiden requires one hundred percent hands-on attention, when he’s awake.  Even when he’s sleeping, they often check his breathing, make sure he’s on his back, ensure there’s nothing else in the crib and his diaper is clean.  Rafael knows without a doubt that Lauren has spent every minute of her day with their baby.  Even though they both know that he probably can’t see or hear very well, and that he’s not going to understand language once he’s old enough, they still read and sing and talk to him like he’s the most normal baby in the world.  

He doesn’t realize the singing has stopped until he sees her enter the living room.  “Hey,” she smiles, then picks up the pile of dirty clothes he’s collected.

He smiles back.  “Hey,” he replies, tossing the dirty diapers into the trash.  “I’m gonna run this out real quick.”

She nods.  “There’s dinner in the fridge for you, after, if you want.  It’s just pasta, but he slept for a half hour so I thought I’d make something other than a sandwich.”

He thinks about how tired they are, how much energy she must have expended to make him pasta.  He knows without looking it’s the one that’s his favorite–she makes a pasta primavera that he loves.  

He nods, then takes the trash out.  Coming in, he washes his hands, then heats up the plate.  It is, indeed, the pasta he expected, and he devours it in about three minutes.

After he washes his dishes, he heads into their tiny bedroom.  The lights are out except for the nightlight, and she’s lying in bed.  She’s in a short nightgown that shows off her soft thighs and full breasts, and he feels himself growing hard.  He takes a seat on the bed next to her, and leans down to kiss her.  “Thanks for dinner,” he whispers.  “It was terrific.”

Her hands are slowly running over his back, and he has two thoughts at the same time.  First, how good it feels to be inside of her. Second, how this is the way he created a prison for both of them.

But he loves her, and her hands are roaming freely over him then.  Years later, he’ll try to forgive himself for this night and all the ones like it with the excuse that he was only eighteen. Tonight, he enjoys losing himself in the pleasure of her, and in whispering the words “I love you” over and over until it stops hurting.  For now.

***

The police station has a busy hum to it, he thinks as he waits for her.

The apartment was fine–or as fine as a section eight apartment could be–but for some reason, Meadow seemed convinced that she could lose Lottie over a few dishes or some clothes left strewn around.  He didn’t do much peering into things, but did notice she had all of her outlets covered and a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, two things he knows the state requires.  It only took her a couple of minutes, but when she reappeared, she was in a decent pair of jeans and a nicer shirt with a bra under it.

She was nervous, hesitant going in, but she did anyway.  Two detectives are currently in speaking with her, one male and one female.  Rafael has learned from experience that the gender of the detective has very little to do with their ability to empathize and communicate with the victim.  He hopes that at least one of them is half as skilled as Benson, although he knows filing the report is the important part, not whether it’s believed.  The report itself is just the first step in the case he’s building.

An hour and a half later, Meadow exits the room with the detectives.  She’s not smiling, but there’s an expression on her face he hasn’t seen before.  It’s something closer to determined and confident, and his gut tells him immediately they believed her.  

“Hey,” she greets, “I’m all done today.”

He nods.  “Excellent.  Let’s go.”

As they step into the elevator and the doors close, she turns to him, tears in her eyes.  “They believed me.  He did it to two other girls, too, they said.”  He watches her swallow heavily.  “Thanks, Mr. Barba…I woulda never done that if you hadn’t asked me to.  And they said I can sue him for child support!  Did you know that?”

He smirks.  “I did.  Let’s talk about that when we get together on Friday, all right?”

They’ve stepped outside into the mid-afternoon sun, chatting, when Meadow literally walks right into her case worker, Elaine.

“Meadow,” Elaine says, sounding surprised, and her eyebrows shoot even higher when she sees Rafael standing next to the young woman.  “Rafael…what are you two doing down here?”

Meadow’s back stiffens at the question, and Rafael reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.  “Meadow, please go to the coffee shop down the block and get me a cup.  Feel free to get yourself something, too.”  He hands her a ten, nodding firmly toward her, and she shakily nods back before heading down the block.

“What’s this about?” Elaine asks.  “I hope you know, she’s an excellent manipulator–”

“If that’s true,” Rafael interrupts, “then it’s because she learned it from the people you dumped her with.”

“Excuse me?” Elaine’s face flushes red.  “Are you referring to the Lassiters?  Because to this day, they’re considered one of our best families–”

“And Logan Lassiter?  What’s he considered?” Rafael asks her, crossing his arms.  “I don’t know what he’s called in Des Moines, but back in New York, we’d call him a child molester who’s guilty of the rape of a minor.”

Now Elaine smirks and crosses her own arms.  “And you, of course, think she’s entirely innocent in this whole thing, don’t you?”

Rafael cocks his head.  “Whole thing?  I’m not sure what you mean by ‘whole thing’, but if you’re referring to the conception and birth of her daughter, yes.  She was fifteen and a minor.  She was raped by a twenty-year old adult man.   She didn’t consent, but whether she did or not doesn’t matter.  The law says she isn’t able to.  And then being forced to give birth? She should have had the right to an abortion! Elaine!  What were you thinking?”   His voice is lowered to a near whisper, and he sees rage flit through Elaine’s eyes.

“What was I thinking?  You wanna know what i was thinking, Rafael?” she asks angrily.  “I was thinking about that baby–”

“Like hell,” he tells her coolly.  “You were thinking about punishing her.  For whatever reason, she did something to piss you off and you couldn’t stand her.  So you thought you’d teach her a lesson.  Good for you.  Don’t worry…we’re not here about you.  She filed a rape report today; one she should’ve filed years ago.  One you should have brought her here to file when she was fifteen.”

Elane takes a step closer to him.  “Remember, Rafael…you’re a stranger here in Des Moines.  This isn’t your precious New York City.  I’m the one with the friends, the people who know me and know my pristine reputation.  So you say what you want; you file what you want.  Good luck with that.  Just remind Meadow that she’s still being evaluated by us.  Her case isn’t closed yet, and as long as we have any reason to  suspect that child might be abused or neglected, her case will STAY open.”

Rafael looks puzzled.  “Elaine, that almost sounded like a threat…a plan to use a young child to punish her mother.  I’m sure you didn’t mean it that way–”

Elaine’s eyes are wide and her voice is shaky.  “You think you’re saving another one, don’t you?  You couldn’t save Lottie so now you’ll save her mother?  You better watch yourself, Rafael…Meadow’s not nearly as sweet as her name, and you’re gonna find that out sooner or later.”  With that, she quickly turns away and heads down the street.

“Have a good day!” he calls after her, watching her climb into her sedan, then turns around and heads to the coffee shop.

Chapter Text

“I weally like dat purple one there, Mistuh Sunshine…can we get dat one?  It’ll look GWEAT in my woom!” Lottie announces loudly in Walmart, and Sonny can’t help but chuckle.

Meadow’s apartment contains the bare minimum.  She owns quite literally very little, and the apartment she’s in is extremely old.  After getting permission from the landlord to make some cosmetic changes, Rafael approached Meadow.

“What do you want?” she asked him softly, as Lottie and Sonny played with some old legos nearby.  “You know I can’t pay you guys back, so what do you want?  You want time alone with Lottie?”  Her eyes darted to her daughter then back.  “You wanna raise her?  I know it ain’t sex…I just don’t understand, Mr. Barba.  You’ve gotta want something.   You got a bad kidney or somethin’?”

Rafael shook his head, taking a seat at her wobbly kitchen table and motioning for her to do the same.  “Look, Meadow…the truth is, I love Lottie, and I’ve come to care about you as well.  I want both of you to live in a safe, healthy home.  I can help with that right now, if you’ll let me.  I don’t want to take your daughter from you.  But if you let me, I do want to help you be a better mother.  What do you say?”

She watched Lottie playing for several minutes before answering him.  “I try to do good for her, but it’s so hard,” she admitted.  “Yeah, okay.  Thanks for helping her.  Us, I mean.”

That’s how they all end up in Walmart, picking out paint, bed linens, window valances, and rugs for the apartment.  Once Lottie’s chosen a soft lavender (and Meadow’s agreed), Sonny helps the little girl choose a few other items, as Rafael turns to Meadow.

“How about your bedroom?” he asks.  “It looks to me like you need some storage of some kind–maybe a dresser or chest of drawers?  Do you have sheets and a bedspread?  I was thinking that today, we’d pick out some paint for your room and the rest of the place…and when we finish here, we can run over to one of the secondhand stores and look at a dresser for you.”

She’s shaking her head, staring at the paint samples, and he’s not sure if she’s just overwhelmed or what.  He knows that sometimes she tends to check out, so he decides to try again. “What color do you like?  It’s usually good to go with something neutral for the whole apartment–”

“No.”  It’s quiet but it’s clear, and Rafael pulls back when he hears it, turning to look at her.

“You don’t want to paint your place?” he asks slowly, making sure he understands.

She’s still shaking her head, but she isn’t looking at him.  “I don’t want nothin’ from you.  Nothin’ else, i mean.  You’ve been real nice to me, and to Lottie, and it’s fine if you wanna do nice things for her.  She’s a little kid and…well, I think she deserves nice stuff.  I know you love her, and it makes you feel good to do nice stuff for her.”  She slowly turns to look at him.  “You don’t love me, Mr. Barba.  You’re doin’ all this law stuff and everything because you feel sorry for me.  ‘Cause you love Lottie and you feel sorry for me.  And maybe there’s reasons I don’t know about, I don’t know.  But I do know that one day you’re likely to come lookin’ to collect somethin’ from me, and I don’t got anything to pay you with, other than my body and my kid.”

“Meadow, I told you–”

She shakes her head again.  “I don’t want no dresser from you.  I don’t want paint, or furniture, or nothin’.  I want your law help ‘cause…well, ‘cause we both know I need it, that they broke the law and nobody else here is gonna help me.  But that’s it, Mr. Barba.  Don’t keep tryin’ to give me more stuff.  It don’t matter how much you give me now.  I’m still not gonna give you my girl later.”

Rafael feels his hands shaking, and his heart is beating faster than it has in awhile.  He knows they’ve had this conversation a million times already, and he always, always tells her he has no intention of taking Lottie away.  But something in her words this time has made him stop, made him wonder about his own motivations.  Is it appropriate for a man to decorate his former foster child’s bedroom?  To spend long hours with the child’s only parent, in hopes of improving said child’s life? 

And for a moment, he thinks of Aiden, and all he couldn’t give his son that he wanted to.  Aiden was dead and gone by the time he was Meadow’s age.  Could he be trying to make up what he missed with Aiden and Lauren through Lottie and Meadow?

Who is he doing this for, again?

His hands are still shaking when he feels little ones grip his belt.  “Wookit, Wafi-el!  Mistuh Sonny-shine gotted me a puhple bedspread!”

Sonny’s holding the linens in his arms, grinning, but as soon as their eyes meet, Rafael knows his lover has seen his doubts.  “Why don’t I grab the cart and go check out?’ Sonny suggests, then tweaks Lottie’s nose.  “You wanna come with me, purple princess?’

She giggles.  “I ain’t no princess, silly!” she tells him, but follows him down the aisle toward the checkout lines.

Rafael clears his throat.  ‘I’m, uh…I'm sorry if I’ve overstepped, Meadow,” he says quietly.  “I just thought I could help.  But you’re right, it’s not my place.”

She crosses her arms in front of her and nods.  “Look, I don’t wanna hurt your feelings or be a bitch or nothin’.  I know that when all this law stuff is over, I’m gonna owe you everything, anyway—”

“No,” he says firmly.  “You don’t owe me anything.  I’m not doing this to take Lottie away, or to influence you somehow.  I’m doing this because what happened to you shouldn’t happen to anyone.  And if they did it to you, they could do it to her.  And neither of us want that.”

Now Meadow nods again, a sad smile gracing her face.  “We know how lucky we are that we met you.  You’re the only man I’ve trusted at all since…well, since my daddy died.”

That statement hurts as much as it soothes, and they both head toward the registers without another word.

*****

At 1:30 on the afternoon of January twelfth, the doctor stops by to check vitals.“It won’t be long now,” Dr. Harding murmurs as Aiden rests quietly in Lauren’s arms.  Rafael sits next to her, listening to the ventilator’s rhythmic pumping of air.  

Aiden’s little lungs are no longer working, and the ventilator has been breathing for him for the last several days.  Despite urgings from Lauren’s family and the doctor, Rafael and Lauren have refused to let their baby go.  Instinctively, Rafael knows that Lauren is less certain than him, but he’s grown up hearing and believing that life is hope, and that God will take His children when He’s ready.  This isn’t their call.  It’s the Lord’s.

Until last night, when the strokes began.  He’s had three so far, each cutting off yet another part of his little brain, and the doctor has told them their baby’s brain–and his heart–will stop at any time.  There is nothing left to do to save their baby, only time to spend until the end.

Their parents came by to say goodbyes earlier, each placing a sweet kiss to Aiden’s forehead and praying for him.  When Lauren’s mother, Lila, enters, Rafael spends his time cursing her internally.  He hates her for a million reasons, not the least of which being her determination to let Aiden die.  He watches her now as she smooths his son’s hair, kisses his temple, prays over him.  “I’m so sorry,” he hears her whisper, and he wonders if she’s truly sorry for Aiden, or sorry for herself.

At 2:45 or so, Lauren passes Aiden to him while she excuses herself to the restroom.  He knows, instinctively, this is the last time he will ever hold his living son.  He spends his last minutes with Aiden in his arms stroking his soft hair, admiring his coffee skin, thinking what a beautiful child he is.  If he does nothing else in his life, he helped to make this miracle. 

It happens that afternoon at 3:19.  At first, he thinks the machines lost power, and he immediately turns toward the outlet.  But everything is how it should be, except for Lauren and Aiden.  As odd as it is, Aiden is even more still than he was before, and Lauren cradles her baby even closer, tears falling from her face one after the other.  

Aiden is gone.

*****

It’s a dream he’s had regularly over the last twenty-five years, especially when he’s under stress.  It happened throughout the Drew Householder case, but was even more prevalent prior to the baby’s death.  As he comes back to consciousness, Rafael becomes aware of the tears on his cheeks, of the soft snoring next to him, of the warmth of Sonny’s skin under his palm.  He’s barely had time to process that he was dreaming again when his cell phone rings, sharply catching his attention. Sonny shifts next to him; Rafael reaches for his cell, and checking it, sees it’s Meadow.  

He immediately answers.  “Meadow, what’s going on?”

He can hear people talking in the background, as well as Meadow’s soft crying.  “They’re here again, Mr. Barba…they’re gonna try to take her again…”

“Wait,” he interrupts, “what’s their reason?  They’ve got to tell you a reason they’re removing her.”

“They ain’t sayin’.  They’re just going through everything…it’s okay, baby.  C’mere.”  He can hear Lottie’s unmistakeable cry, and it rips at his heart.

“Okay, listen.  I’m coming over right now.  If they try to leave with her, tell them your attorney is coming right now.  Hopefully that’ll slow them down.”  She agrees and they both hang up.  He’s managed to pull on his sweats by the time Sonny rolls over and opens his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks, yawning in the dark.

“Meadow called.  CPS showed up and they’re trying to take Lottie,” he says breathlessly, yanking on a tee shirt, then grabbing his wallet.  

“What do you want me to do?” Sonny asks.  He’s sitting up now, looking alert, and Rafael shakes his head. 

“I don’t know,” he says, then changes his mind.  “Actually, get dressed and follow me over.  It’ll be better to have more witnesses…or more than me, anyway.”

As Sonny climbs out of bed, Rafael heads out of the apartment and over to Meadow’s.  Checking his watch, it’s just after midnight.

*****

Rafael knocks loudly at the door, and Meadow opens it quickly.  She’s dressed in a tank top and cutoff sweats, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.  He can tell she’s been crying, and when she lets him in, he sees Lottie sitting alone on the old plaid couch, in one of the nightgowns he’d bought her when she lived with him.  The little girl is sniffling and holding her stuffed dog, the one he’d returned to her.  When she sees him, she starts to cry.  “Wafi-el…I don’t wanna go away,” she sobs, and he immediately takes a seat next to her, scooping her into his arms and rocking her gently.

“They’re in her bedroom right now,” Meadow tells him, wiping at her own eyes with her wrist.  He glances around for tissues, but realizes there aren’t any, and for once, he doesn’t have his handkerchief, so he lets it go.

“Who’s here?” he asks, wondering if Elaine has enough balls to show up herself.

“I don’t know if you know them…it’s Helen and Eric,” Meadow tells him, sinking down to the couch on the opposite side of Lottie.  “They said they got a call sayin’ she was screamin’ and I was beating her.  I ain’t hit her since she came back,” she whispers, shuddering. “She’s been  asleep since eight.  That’s her bedtime…you know, the one you gave her.  I kept it.”

Just then, a woman steps into the living room.  “Hello,” she says to him, extending a hand.  “My name’s Helen Burr, and I’m from Child Protective Services.  I understand you’re Meadow’s attorney?”

He shakes her hand, lap still full of Lottie.  “Rafael Barba.  For the purposes of transparency, I was also Lottie’s foster parent for six months.  Can I ask why you’re here tonight?”

“We received an anonymous call reporting that there was a fight going on here, and a child was screaming for help.  We were also told there were drugs being used and sold out of this apartment,” she adds, glancing at Meadow.  “Due to Ms. Maddox’s history, and having an open case with us, we’re required to visit as soon as possible–”

“Within twenty-four hours,” he interrupts calmly.  “You have twenty-four hours.”

“You ever walk in on a dead kid that’s choked on his own vomit?  They don’t wait twenty-four hours to die.” A man–Eric, he assumes–has appeared from the bedroom, and immediately, Rafael knows from the way he moves that he’s a cop.  “For all we knew, this kid could be dead in twenty minutes.  Your client here has a history of losing her shit with her kid when she’s pissed.  She’s not some Virgin Mary.” 

Helen shoots him a look, then says, “I just need to speak to Charlotte alone for a few minutes.  Is it all right if I take her to her bedroom for a short conversation?”

Rafael can feel Meadow’s eyes on him as he nods confidently.  “That should be fine.  I would like to request, however, that you tape the interview.”

“We don’t answer to you,” Eric replies angrily, but Helen nods.

“We’ll be making an audio recording tonight,” she tells him, “and if needed, any further interviews will be done at either the office or the station, and will be video recorded–”

“Just like last time, huh, Meadow?” Eric asks, smirking, just as there’s a knock on the door.  He turns to face it. “You got a party starting or something?”

“That’s my colleague,” Rafael answers, then looks at Lottie, still in his lap.  “I need you to go with Miss Helen to your room,” he says, smiling as though it’s the most common request in the world.  “She just wants to talk with you.  It’s okay.”

Lottie sniffles.  “Will you come wif me?”

“I’ll be waiting right here, with your mom and Mr. Sonny.  It’s okay,” he repeats, just as Meadow lets Sonny into the apartment.

Slowly, Lottie stands on her bare feet, squeezing her stuffed dog and watching Helen carefully.  The social worker bends down and smiles, extending her hand.  “Come on, honey.  We’re just going to have a quick talk in your room.”  As Lottie moves closer, Helen takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“So where are we at?” Sonny asks, and before Rafael can answer, Eric’s interrupted yet again.

“Where are we at?  I’ll tell you where we’re at.  This one got lucky tonight.  Whatever was going on here, she’s covered it up.”  He takes a step closer to Meadow, glaring at her.  “You may have food in your cabinets and a working toilet this time,” he nearly spits out, “but don’t you forget, I know who you are.  You haven’t even had her back two months yet, and we’re gettin’  calls about you.  You lay a finger on that girl…just a finger…and I will personally make sure you pay for it.”

“Okay,” Rafael says, standing and taking a step between Meadow and Eric, “that’s enough.  I’m under the impression that the goal here is to help Ms. Maddox become a functional parent, not to threaten and berate her.  Clearly, somebody made a false allegation tonight.  There’s absolutely no need to traumatize either Ms. Maddox or her daughter any further–”

“Traumatize,” he chuckles harshly.  “Tell that to the kid.  I’m guessing you’ve never seen the photos of what she did to that little girl–”

Just then, Lottie runs into the living room, immediately climbing onto the couch and snuggling against her mother.  “I get to stay, Momma!  She says I tan stay wif you tonight!”

All eyes turn to Helen, who smiles at them.  “It appears we’ve had a misunderstanding…a false alarm.  Ms. Maddox, do you have any neighbors giving you trouble who might’ve called this in?”

“No,” Meadow tells her, Lottie snuggled close against her.  “I don’t know who would do this.” 

Rafael knows, but he keeps his mouth shut for now.

“If you think of anyone, feel free to give me a call.”  She hands a business card to both Meadow and to Rafael, then one to Sonny.  “We don’t want you harassed, Ms. Maddox.  By the way, Charlotte’s room  looks very nice.”  Turning to Eric, she says, “Let’s go.”

The two exit the apartment, and Sonny locks the door behind them.  Rafael sits back on the couch next to mother and daughter.  “You okay, Meadow?”

She shudders and nods shakily.  “That guy, Eric…he’s a cop, and he’s one of Logan’s friends.  He hates me.”

Rafael and Sonny’s eyes meet briefly, then Sonny asks, “Is there anything we can do for you all tonight?  Would you feel better if we stayed over on the couch?”

She nods.  “I’m sorry…I’m sorry they scared me.”

“Don’t be stared, Momma,” Lottie perks up, looking at her mother.  “Wafi-el’s here and he’s gonna make sure we’re a-otay.  Wight, Wafi-el?”

Meadow looks at him, surprised, and Lottie is gazing at him again as though he hung the moon.  He glances at Sonny, who’s smiling warmly at him.  “I’ll do my best, kiddo,” he promises again.  “I’ll do my best.”

Chapter Text

“You’re doing great, Lauren,” the doctor encourages.  “Just one more push.” 

Rafael wipes his girlfriend’s sweaty brow and tries as much as he can not to sound terrified.  “You hear that, babe?  You’re doing great…it’s almost over…he’s almost here, Laurie!”

Her big brown eyes gaze up, fuzzy, into his.  “It hurts, Rafi…” she whimpers, just as the doctor begins to guide her through the last push.

It seems to happen so quickly; the whimper that morphs into a scream, the doctor’s bloody hands, appearing as though they’re holding a mass of something unrecognizable; two nurses immediately stepping into action with the tiny, voiceless creature.  “He’s here…he’s here,” the doctor repeats, almost to himself, as the nurses begin to suction and massage.

The blood between Lauren’s legs.  I did that , he thinks.  It’s my fault.

“Mr. Barba…Mr. Barba!  Rafael!” The doctor’s voice cuts through the chaos in his mind.  “I need you to step into the waiting room now.  I’ll be out as soon as I’m done with Lauren.  Go, now,” he directs, nodding toward the exit door.  Obediently, Rafael stands, only then realizing that Lauren is no longer conscious.  

For a moment, he thinks she’s dead.  He looks at the doctor, then back at his girlfriend.  “Lauren?” he chokes, squeezing her hand.  “Lauren?  Hey!  Laurie…wake up!  Come on, baby, please…c’mon–I can’t lose both of you…”

He’s kissing her face when he realizes one of the nurses is stroking his back.  Why is this nurse here?  Did the baby die?  “It’s okay, Rafi,” he says, but it only makes him cry more.  “Come on, honey, open your eyes.”

But he can't…not until Lauren’s awake again, too…

“Rafi, you’re dreaming, babe,” the nurse is insisting now.  “Come on, come back to me…”

“I can’t leave them–they’ll die,” he gasps, and then he’s standing in the small cemetery, next to two headstones.  A tiny one in the ground, reading Aiden Eduardo Barba, and a larger one standing next to it.  Lauren Sienna Sullivan.

Sonny presses a soft kiss to Rafael’s temple, then wipes the tears gently with a tissue as his lover opens his eyes.  

It happened while they were together, too, in Manhattan.  Sonny knew to expect it this time, the nightmares and the tears.  It’s Aiden’s birthday, and for some reason, this day traumatizes Rafael even more than the day his son died, even more than the day he found Lauren’s dead body.  Rafael has never spoken of it, never shared a single thought about it.  All Sonny can speculate is that the unexpected early birth of Aiden was extremely traumatic for his young father…possibly the start of the end.

“You okay?” he whispers now as Rafael’s large green eyes slowly focus on him, and the older man nods, then rubs his eyes.  Just then, the alarm goes off, and Sonny reaches over and turns it off for both of them.  They’re supposed to be at the courthouse for a preliminary meeting in a couple hours–the case is due to start next week.  “Do you want to shower first, or should I?” he asks, and Rafael stops staring at the ceiling for a moment, meeting Sonny’s gaze.

“You go ahead,” he says quietly.  “I’m, uh…I’m just not ready yet.”

Leaning down, he kisses Rafael’s nose.  “Take your time, baby.”

As he’s in the shower, Sonny contemplates how far they’ve come in the last month.  Since their confrontation, social services has backed off of Meadow, only meeting her at scheduled times and following their own protocol for any unannounced inspections.  The case against the agency has been filed, and not surprisingly, they’ve had very little difficulty finding additional victims and witnesses.  Working alongside Rafael is as incredible as ever; despite the fact he’s an ADA now in his own right, Sonny feels as though he’s learning things every day they spend together.  And it’s been amazing for his own ego; Rafael’s often asked Sonny for his opinion, as well as treated him as an equal on the case.

He gets out of the shower and dries off quickly, then steps back into the bedroom to get dressed. Realizing the lights are still off, he’s a bit surprised to see Rafael still in bed, covers pulled up to his neck.  After stepping into his boxers and slacks, and pulling on an undershirt, he approaches Rafael’s side of the bed.  Rafael’s eyes are closed, and Sonny isn’t sure whether he’s asleep again or not.  Stroking his lover’s hair, he murmurs, “Rafi?  You awake?”

There’s a moment of silence, almost as if Rafael is debating whether to answer.  “Mmm,” is the sound that emerges from his throat a moment later, but his eyes don’t open.

“I’m out of the shower,” Sonny tells him quietly, gently rubbing his back.  “I’m gonna finish getting dressed, and then I’ll get us some breakfast started.  You want eggs today?  Any sausage or bacon?”

Rafael’s eyes open, but he doesn’t look at Sonny.  Instead, they focus on something across the room that Sonny can’t decipher.  “No,” he whispers roughly.  “I don’t want anything.”

“You sure?  I can toast you a bagel, or whatever sounds good–”

“Nothing sounds good, Dominick.”  Rafael’s eyes now meet his, and Sonny can see the defiance in his expression.  There’s a dare on the table, but Sonny isn’t sure what it is–only that he’s fairly certain it’s not about breakfast.

So he nods.  “Tell me what you need today.”

He watches as his response causes his partner to visibly deflate, and tears once again fill Rafae’s eyes.  “I can’t do it today,” he says almost shamefully.  “I’ve done it on his birthday every other time for the last thirty-two years.  But I can’t this time, Sonny.  I can’t–”  

Sonny watches as Rafael rolls over slightly, enough to bury his head into his pillow.  He knows the purpose is to cover Rafael’s sobs, but it’s not working.  Instead of being clueless, Sonny rests one hand on the blanket covering his lover’s back, stroking back and forth, pretending not to see the shaking of the body underneath it.

*****

“So, gentlemen…are we ready?” Judge Kimball looks down from her bench and surveys the room.  The city’s three lawyers are present, looking as sharp as ever; Sonny is standing alone behind the prosecutor’s bench, straightening his jacket nervously.  “Mister Carisi,” Judge Kimball says, “I realize that you and Mister Barba are not from Des Moines, but we midwest judges still expect all attorneys to show up to court.  Where is Mister Barba today?”

Sonny wishes he could tell the whole courtroom the truth, the pain his partner is in, but instead he clears his throat.  “Your honor, he’s at home with the flu.  He sends his regrets.”

Judge Kimball nods.  She’s strikingly attractive, Sonny thinks, and something about her reminds him of Elana Barth, before she turned to the dark side.  “As long as he understands the necessity of his presence moving forward…”

“I assure you, he does, your honor,” Sonny replies, and watches the judge nods again.

“Then since we’re all done with pretrial motions and our jury is chosen, I will see all of you–plus Mister Barba–on Tuesday morning, promptly at nine,” she informs them, and before anyone can mention anything else, the gavel is down, dismissing them.

“Stress getting to your partner, Carisi?” One of the city’s lawyers, Jack Moyer, hangs back to ask as soon as they exit the courtroom.  There’s a smirk on his face, but he’s standing alone.  The other two attorneys have moved toward the exit.

Sonny smiles.  “Oh, you only wish,” he responds.  “We’re both ready to expose everything that agency’s been doing for the last ten years.  I’d guess you have a lot of work still, though, crossing all your t’s and dotting your i’s by Tuesday.”  He nods toward Jack.  “See you next week.”

“C’mon, Jack,” one of the other men calls, trying to get his colleague to exit, but Jack leans into Sonny’s space, and his grin is menacing.

“We’re gonna send you two gentlemen back to New York in pieces after this.  Figures a prostitute had to hire two gay lovers from the city to be represented.”  Stepping back, his face returns to a friendly smile.  “Have a good weekend.  Tell Rafael we hope it’s not–” his eyes scan to Sonny’s crotch, then return to his face–” contagious” .

Sonny watches Jack turn and join the other men as they go out the courthouse doors, and he steps back to sink onto a bench.  Closing his eyes, he wonders if he’ll ever reach an age or a time where people stop being such bigoted assholes.

“Mr. Carisi?”

He opens his eyes to see Meadow standing in front of him, and his first thought is how Rafael would be impressed–for once, she’s dressed appropriately for the courthouse, wearing a yellow dress that ends just above the knee and matching flats.  But for the life of him, he can’t remember why she’s here.  “Hey,” he greets.  “Were we meeting here today?”

She shakes her head.  “No…I just thought I’d come by to make sure we were still set to start on Tuesday.  You guys met with the judge today, right?”  Scanning the hallway, she asks, “Where’s Mr. Barba?”

“He’s at home today.  He wasn’t feeling well,” Sonny explains quickly, ignoring the look of shock on Meadow’s face.  “Yes, I met with the judge, and we are all set for Tuesday next week.”  He rests a hand on her shoulder.  “You doing all right?”

Her brow furrows.  “What’s going on with Mr. Barba?” she asks, and he can tell from her expression that this isn’t just about her anymore, or what Rafael can do for her.  She’s truly worried about him. “Look, Mr. Carisi, I’m not completely stupid.  I know you’re his boyfriend.  And I know he loves Lottie a whole bunch.  Enough that if I didn’t want her…yeah.  I’d want him to have her.”  Her eyes flash up at him again.  “But there’s something else goin’ on with him too, isn’t there?  What, did he have a wife who took his kid at some point?”

“Laurie…come on, baby!  Wake up!  Come back to me…I can’t lose you both…”

Sonny shakes his head.  “Meadow…”

Meadow takes a step closer to him, eyes imploring.  “I’m worried about him, Mr. Carisi…I know it’s all weird, but he’s done more for me than just about anyone in my whole life.  He’s like…he’s kinda like, I don’t know…an uncle or something.”

Sonny sighs.  “He’s uh…he’s having a rough day today.  He’s at home, if you feel like stopping by.  I’ve got to go run a few errands, so I’ll be gone for a couple hours if you want to go over right now.”

Meadow’s eyes light up, and she nods.  “Okay.  Thanks, Mr. Carisi…thank you so much.”

He watches as she hurries out of the courthouse doors, then pulls his keys from his pocket and heads out himself, trying to figure out how to kill a couple extra hours before he heads home.

Chapter Text

There’s a loud pounding that’s breaking through the fuzziness of his dreams.  He’s not sure at first where it’s coming from, until he opens his eyes from his spot on the couch and comes back to the reality he’s been trying to avoid all morning.

“Mr. Barba…please open the door.  I need to know you’re okay,” he hears, and after a long pause, it’s followed by, “Rafael…please.  I’m scared.” 

That motivates him to move more than anything else would have.  He stands, a bit wobbly from the xanax he took earlier, and heads toward the door to unlock and open it.

Meadow is standing there, eyes red, and his first thought is something’s happened to Lottie.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gruffly.  “Lottie–is she–”

“She’s fine,” Meadow replies sharply.  “I was worried about you.”

He lets go of the door and turns away, making his way back to the couch as she steps inside and closes it.  “You shouldn’t have…didn’t you see Sonny?” he asks.  “Your case is in great hands.”

“I wasn’t worried about the case,” she tells him, taking a seat in the chair next to him.  “I was worried about you.  You didn’t show up today, and you always show up.  You always do what you say you’re gonna do, no matter what.  You always make sure that me and Lottie are taken care of…that we have everything we need.  But you didn’t come today, and I don’t know…I thought maybe it might be because of whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

He picks up the glass he’d left on the coffee table and takes a sip of the warm water inside, wincing at the taste.  “Nothing is bothering me,” he lies.  “What did Sonny tell the court was the reason I was out?”

She shrugs.  “I don’t know…I wasn’t inside.  He told me you were having a rough day.”

Rafael snorts.  “Well, there you go.  That’s true.  I am having a very rough day.  Even people who are older than you, who seem put together, can still have rough days, Meadow.  Happens to all of us–”

She’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her knees.  “Okay then…what can I do to help?  You’re always helpin’ me…you’ve helped me on some really REALLY bad days.  What can I do for you today to make you feel better?”

The question catches him by surprise, and Rafael feels his eyes immediately begin to tear.  He presses the palms of his hands to them, trying to stop the flow before it starts.  He takes a deep breath—in, two, three, four–then exhales, continuing several times, and around the fourth or fifth breath, she starts to count with him.

“In, two, three, four…out, two, three, four…that’s good, you’re doin’ good,” she says quietly, and he nearly chuckles out loud, ready to joke about how young she is.

I was younger than Meadow when I buried my son and his mother.

It’s that thought that breaks him, turns the breathing into sobs.  He keeps his palms pressed to his eyelids but leans forward, elbows on his knees.  “I don’t think you can make this better, Meadow,” he manages to get out.  “Nobody can.”

And the tears come heavily then, the tears for all of the loss and pain he’s been holding back for thirty years.  The tears from when he handed his dead son to the doctor.  The tears from when Lauren clung to him and he couldn’t fix anything.  The tears from walking into their bathroom a week later and finding her cold and lifeless on the floor.  The tears from all  he’s denied himself, this entire lifetime.  A life that should have been about love and happiness shared with family, that instead became about wins and losses and strategy.

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts, he’s startled when he hears her voice.

“When my daddy died, I was six years old.  I didn’t have nobody else in the whole world, and they put me in a bunch of places that just made me feel more like I was alone, you know? I remember after awhile I got real, real angry.  Like, real mad.  I figured if nobody was gonna love me, I wasn’t gonna love them either.  And when one of those daddies started messin’ with me, I messed with him.  I egged a kitchen ceiling, taught the cat to piss on their bed, downloaded porn movies on his work computer, switched out the salt for the sugar when they had company.  My personal favorite was probably when they put me with this really racist, homophobic family.  I stole all the money I could find and donated it to the NAACP and had them send a thank-you card.  That guy about shit his pants in the middle of opening the mail,” she chuckles to herself, then glances at Rafael again.  “And you know the kind of mom I learned to be…you know when I started to become a better mom?  It was that night I came over here and hit on you.  You treated me like a real human being.  You wanted to hear my story.  Nobody–I mean, nobody, not even Elaine–has ever asked to hear my story before.  You made me feel like, for once, I mattered.  I wasn’t invisible.  And then you wrote it down…and you’ve helped me ever since.  Like a dad, almost, Rafael.”

At that, he chuckles wetly, still rubbing his eyes, and she chuckles, too.  “I’ve never known before how to pay you back for all you do for me and Lottie.  But maybe this is it…maybe it’s time for me to listen to you.  To let you know that YOU matter.  Because you do, and not just to Lottie and Sonny.  I ain’t’ ever had a daddy that was decent, not since I was six, but the truth is, sometimes when I get scared or worried, I think like Lottie does–that it’ll be okay, because Rafael is here.  Because you’re like a real good daddy, you know?”

At that, Rafael begins to cry again.  Hoarsely, eyes still covered with his hands, he gets out, “I had a son, at your age…born premature…he suffered for seventeen months before he died.”  His body is shuddering, but he forces himself to continue.  “I kept him alive on a ventilator…I couldn’t let him go…then his mother…Lauren, oh Laurie…”

He’s exhausted.  Everyone was right–he had no business going back to work today.  But he needed something to clear his head; if he had to sit and listen to Lauren cry for one more minute, he felt as though he’d go insane.  So he’d gone, despite her begging him not to, and promised to be home by late afternoon.

And he’d made it.  It’s just shy of four as he enters the apartment.  It’s completely silent, a sound so unfamiliar.  But Lila has taken off for Atlantic City again, leaving them alone here.  Lauren must be asleep, he thinks, entering the bedroom.  He’d like nothing more than to kick off his shoes and curl up beside her.

She’s not in the bed.  “Laurie?” he calls, figuring she must be in the bathroom, except the door is wide open.  He steps out of his shoes, rounding the corner of the bed to peek in.  If she’s not in there, maybe she went out for a bit?

She’s lying in the floor, unmoving, two prescription bottles lying next to her.  Her head is turned to the side, and there’s a small pool of vomit on the floor by her lips.  He knows before he touches her that she’s gone; he knows from her stiff stance and the bluish tint to her sweet face.  The face he’s kissed so many times.  The face he’s loved.

“Lauren?” he asks once more, almost as a prayer, then lowers himself to the ground.  Picking up her wrist, the first thing that strikes him is how cold she is.  There’s no pulse, not the first time and not the four other times he tries.  He checks her neck, but there’s no pulse there either, and no air coming out of her mouth.  Reaching up to the counter, he grabs a washcloth and carefully wipes off her lips, then uses it to clean up the vomit next to her before leaning over and placing a delicate kiss to her mouth.  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers.  “I’ll always love you.  Tell Aiden his papi loves him, too.”

He stands up and tosses the dirty towel into the hamper, then steps behind her and lays down.  He spoons his body against hers, resting one of his arms over her and his face in her hair, breathing deeply, and closes his eyes.

When he opens them, there’s low light in the bathroom from the sun setting.  He forces himself to get up and go to the phone, calling the emergency number.  “Hello…my girlfriend committed suicide,” he explains steadily.  “Yes, I just found her.  23 Kingston, apartment C.  Yes, thank you.”  He hangs up the phone and waits.

Carefully, Meadow takes a seat next to him.  “Was Lauren your baby’s momma?” she asks gently, resting one hand on his shoulder.

“Mmhmm,” he nods through the tears.  “Yeah.  I found her a week later…I went to work to get my mind off of it, and she…she…”  

He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to.  “You loved her so much, didn’t you?” Meadow asks.  “I can tell.  Just like your baby…you still love him, too.”

Then he’s crying again.  “I never talk about him…or her.  Ever.  Most people, until I came to Des Moines, thought I hated kids.  They thought I’d never been around them, never wanted them.”  He takes a breath and wipes his face with his hands.  “And I didn’t, after Aiden died.  I buried part of my soul that day, and another part with Lauren.”  He’s shaking, and forces a chuckle.  “And all that was left was just broken.  I’ve been broken for years.”

“Don’t say that, Rafael…if it weren’t for you, I would lose Lottie again…my whole life would have no hope.  I’d be turning tricks and shooting up again, just to deal…” 

He shakes his head, then looks at her.  “You stopped doing those things because YOU are strong, Meadow,” he tells her, voice rough.  “You’re stronger than you know…you’ve just never had anyone to tell you that you were before.”  He forces a smile.  “Your daughter loves you.  She’s blossoming in your care now.  You’re a good mom, Meadow.”

“No I’m not,” she argues, “but I’m gettin’ better.  And you wanna know why?  ‘Cause you keep showing me how.  How to solve problems the right way, how to ask for help…and you always have my back.  If you ask me, Lauren and Aiden would be super proud of you, y’know?”  As his eyes focus on his knees, considering what she’s saying, she adds, “I’ve always figured you had a kid somewhere that you missed.  One you couldn’t see, and that’s why you loved Lottie so much.  To be honest, I’ve been a little jealous ever since Lottie came home and told me about you.”  She stops talking for a minute, looking down, too.  “Nobody ever read to me, or took me to the park, or to birthday parties.  And I never had cutie patootie clothes, like Lottie does.  Whether you know it or not, you already are a good dad…to Lottie…and sometimes, to me.”

He’s not sure what to say to that.  He’s never really considered himself as a dad-type figure to anyone over the age of six or so, but here’s this young woman, younger than his Aiden would be, telling him he’s exactly that.  

“Is there a reason today’s such a shitty day for you?” she asks, and he hums.

“Aiden’s birthday,” he answers.  “He’d be thirty-two.”

She’s quiet, biting her thumbnail while she thinks.  “You ever have a birthday party for him?  I mean, after he died?”

He barks a laugh.  “No.  I never wanted to.  I didn’t want to think about it.”

She snorts.  “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been thinkin’ about it for a long, long time.”  Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her cell phone and starts to dial.

“Who are you calling?” he asks nervously.

“Your boyfriend,” she replies.  “We need cake.  You got a flavor you like best?”

*****

He’s loading the last of the dishes in the dishwasher when Sonny rests a hand on his shoulder.  “Let me finish that up, babe, okay?  Why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll meet you back there in a few?”

Rafael nods.  “You sure?  We could always finish in the morning.  I’m just so tired.”

Sonny smiles at him affectionately.  “Don’t tell me Lottie wore you out…I had no idea a four-year old could play with legos for so long!”

Rafael chuckles, then turns and fully wraps himself in Sonny’s embrace.  After a minute, he leans up and kisses him, swiping a small bit of blue frosting off the corner of his mouth.  “You missed a bit,” he teases.

Sonny licks around his lips.  “I hope the cake didn’t upset you more,” he says.  “Meadow was pretty insistent on it when she called me.”

Rafael shakes his head.  “It didn’t upset me at all.  That girl…”  He stops speaking for a moment, then chuckles again.  “Talk about the best of intentions.  She even told me that she kind of thinks of me as a dad, just to make me feel better.”

Sonny’s smile falters slightly.  “Rafi…I don’t think she said that just out of an attempt to make you feel better.  She really cares about you, you know?”

Rafael’s eyes meet Sonny’s again, and after a long minute, he leans up and kisses his lover one more time before pulling away.  “I’m going to get ready for bed,” he says with a soft smile.  “Don’t let the dishes keep you too long.”

“Don’t worry,” Sonny replies, closing the dishwasher.  “I’m right behind you.”

Chapter Text

It’s raining. A consistent, day-long stream of showers, and the apartment is just too quiet.

Ever since their talk on Thursday, Rafael and Meadow have been spending time together with Lottie.  Of course, Sonny’s been invited, but he’s felt as though he needs to back off a little bit.  Something feels different, like it’s developing between the three, and he doesn’t want to interfere.

They spent time yesterday reviewing anything they felt necessary for the trial, but then Rafael stopped them and said that what would happen would happen.  They had their witnesses in line, everyone was clear on testimony, and all this reviewing would only serve to make them all that much more nervous.  So they quit reviewing it, woke Lottie up from her nap, and went to the park.

Today, Rafael has taken the girls to see a movie.  Sonny bowed out, just needing some time alone.  But now that he’s got it, all he can think about is the rhythm of the rain on the windows.  

His mind drifts to Rafael for a moment; he wonders how one ever recovers from losing a child.  He knows from Rafael’s own quiet confessions that he nearly killed himself several times after Lauren died.  Sonny’s known grief before.  He’s lost older relatives, and now that he’s a detective, losing victims is part of the job, and losing colleagues happens as well.  All of it swells in his heart this afternoon until it’s hard to swallow.  He has a picture in his mind that he’s created, one of Rafael holding little Aiden, and that feels as though it’s all he can think about right now.

He can’t sit here like this…it’ll tear up his insides if he doesn’t get it out.  Quickly, he moves to the small closet they use as “storage space” and begins to dig behind the boxes.  It’s in the very back, and the case is large and bulky, but he doesn’t care.  He needs his guitar.  It’s not like he’ll ever sing a capella.

Pulling the old guitar from the closet, he carries it to the couch and sits, then takes it out of the case.  It was his ma’s, but she gave it to him when he was thirteen and determined to become a rock star.  “Ma, it’s acoustic!” he nearly whined when she gave it to him.

“Well, how d’ya think all those boys learned to play?  If you can play it on an electric guitar, you can play it on this one.  And be careful with it!  My father gave that to me.”

He smiles, recalling the lecture, then strums the strings.  Incredibly out of tune, so he tightens and loosens one at a time, and eventually the sound doesn’t torture his eardrums.

So now what?

He fiddles loosely with some chords, then launches into Slash’s riff in the middle of Sweet Child O’ Mine, grinning to himself the whole way through.  He’d been so proud when he’d learned it on acoustic—proud enough he shared it with his mom.

He pauses after.  He doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to.  He remembers a time that music connected him to the world in a unique and precious way, and he used it to express himself on a regular basis.  That’s not the case anymore, he thinks, wondering if he should miss that connection more than he has.  He wonders if there are private ways Rafael expresses himself, or if he just stays lost in his world of pain.

Strumming the chords again, he begins to play the acoustical start to The Black Crowes’ She Talks to Angels.

She never mentions the word addiction 

In certain company

Yeah, she’ll tell you she’s an orphan

After you meet her family

She paints her eyes as black as night now

She pulls those shades down tight

There’s a smile when the pain comes

The pain’s gonna make everything aall right

Said she talks to angels

Said they call her out by her name

Yeah, she talks to angels

And they call her out by her name

Something about this song hooks into his sou todayl, connects with the empathy and the pain he’s felt while watching Rafael grieve so hard lately.

She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket

And a cross around her neck

Yeah, the hair is from a little boy

And the cross is someone she has not met

Not yet

Oh, she talks to angels

And they call her out by her name

Yeah, she talks to angels

And they call her out by her name

Unknown to Sonny, Rafael’s standing silently in the entryway, back pressed against the wall, as he listens to his lover’s voice.  It’s strikingly beautiful, and as it resonates inside of him, he wonders if Sonny knows how deeply he’s loved…how Rafael could never love another.

She don’t know no lover

None that I ever seen

Yeah, to her that ain’t nothin’

But to me, it means

It means everything

Sonny’s eyes close as he focuses on the ending of the song, still believing he’s alone in the apartment.

Whoa, she paints her eyes as black as night now

Pulls those shades down tight

Yeah there’s a smile when the pain comes

Pain gonna make everything all right…all right, yeah…

She talks to angels

They call hr out by her name

Yeah, she talks to angels

They call her out by her name

Well, she talks to angels

And they call her out by her name

And she talks to angels

Oh they call her out

Oh yeah they call her out

Don’t you know that they call her out

By her name?

Sonny plays a handful of riffs that extend the piece just a bit longer, then stops and closes his eyes yet again.  As Rafael steps into the room, Sonny asks, “How long have you been here?”

Stepping up close to his lover, Rafael replies quietly, “Long enough.”

He reaches over and strokes Sonny’s hair, thinking of how very much he loves this man.  “There’s only one problem with that song,” Rafael muses.  “I’m not an addict.”

Sonny nearly lets it go, but if they’re ever going to have a future, he can’t. “Unless you’re addicted to your grief.”

The silence is heavy as he worries he’s just ended the best thing he’s ever had,  and Rafael painfully considers all the ways in which Sonny is right.

Neither knows what to do, what to say.  Rafael lowers himself into Sonny’s lap and wraps his arms around him tightly.  “I love you, Dominick,” he whispers fiercely, tearfully, in the other man’s ear.  “I love you and I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

Sonny squeezes Rafael back, feeling his own tears beginning to flow.  Slowly, he pulls away to see his lover’s face.  “Then you have to come out here…with me,” he murmurs.  “You can’t keep all of Aiden and Lauren and the hurt inside of you anymore.  You can live in there, or you can live out here, but you can’t do both anymore.  And I can’t choose for you…you have to choose this for yourself, Rafael.”

Rafael’s hands are gripping the hair on the sides of Sonny’s head, and he can taste the tears and the snot sliding down his face.  But Sonny doesn’t move, isn’t disgusted; his ice blue eyes are as beautiful as ever as he gazes imploringly into Rafael’s.  “I choose you, Dominick…I want to be with you today and every day forward.  Don’t give up on me.  Please don’t give up.”

Sonny’s lips press quick, sharp kisses all over Rafael’s face as his hands grip him tightly.  “I won’t give up on you,” he murmurs back.  “Never.  As long as you’re fighting, I’m here fighting with you, to live in the present together.  Today and tomorrow and every day after, Rafi.”

He watches as they place the urns together in the ground; a tiny one holding his son, and a larger one holding the girl he loves.  His first instinct–his only instinct right now–is to somehow climb in with them; to join them in the darkness of death.  He doesn’t know where he’ll go now, or what he’ll do.  There’s no one who will ever be able to understand his pain, of that he’s sure.  He lowers himself to his knees, collapsing near the two gravestones, and cries.  

Chapter Text

As the alarm rings, Sonny’s eyes flutter open slowly, and the first thing he sees is Rafael gazing at him, smiling sweetly.  “G’mornin’,” he sighs, stretching, then smiling back.  “You look happy today…ready for the trial?”

“I am,” Rafael responds, before placing a kiss on Sonny’s lips.  “I had a dream last night about Aiden.”

Sonny’s stunned.  Rafael has never brought up Aiden like this before, certainly not in pleasant conversation.  But they’d been talking about the importance of Rafael being more open, and Sonny can’t help but be humbled that his lover is trying to do exactly that.  “So what was the dream?”

“He was in my arms,” Rafael recalls, soft smile still present, “in my arms with his head on my shoulder, and I was rubbing his back but thinking about the trial.  And he suddenly lifted his head and said, ‘you can do it, Papi’.”  

Rafael’s smile is beautiful, and Sonny reaches over to wipe away a stray tear.  “I agree with your son,” he whispers, then takes the opportunity to kiss his lover again before they have to rise and face the day.

*****

“So Ms. Maddox,” Rafael asks, “Did you ever tell your case worker about the abuse you were suffering?”

It’s the first day of trial, and they’ve just reconvened after lunch.  So far Meadow has held up well; she’s spent the morning describing how she came into foster care and a general sense of her relationship with Elaine Arnold, as well as with the various foster parents she had.  It’s time now to let the jury know exactly how much this child was abandoned.

“At first,” she begins, keeping her eyes focused on Rafael, like he instructed her to do.  The attorneys on the other side of the courtroom make her nervous, as do a handful of other people who have shown up to intimidate her, including Elaine, her old caseworker, and Maureen Lassiter, Logan’s mother.  “I remember when I was losing weight when I was seven or so, I told my caseworker it was because I didn’t like spinach.  She asked me what that had to do with anything, and I explained to her they wouldn’t let me eat anything else until I ate whatever was on my plate, and there was almost always spinach.”

“Did you tell your worker, Ms. Arnold, about any of the other abuses you suffered?”

“Not always immediately,” she replies.  “But eventually I did, and whenever she found out, she just moved me to another place.”

“Explain what you mean, please,” Rafael instructs.

“Well, like, with the Daniels, my first foster family…Elaine, my worker, took me to the doctor because I was losing weight, I guess.  That’s when I told her about the spinach.  But the pediatrician also found that the dad had been rubbing on me down there.  I didn’t know the doctor told her about it until you showed me the doctor’s records, but she moved me after that, to the Baxters’.”

“Exhibit seven, your honor, the pediatrician’s records,” Rafael says, and hands the pediatrician’s notes to the jury foreman. “And when Mr. Baxter beat you with the electrical cord…was Ms. Arnold made aware of that?”

“The last time it happened, yeah,” Meadow says, and for just a second her eyes dart to Elaine Arnold, who’s sitting behind the defense team.  “But by then, I’d lived there since I was seven or so, and he’d beat me with all kinds of stuff, mainly that didn’t leave a mark.  Like coat hangers, wrapped in a towel or whatever.”

“Did she ask you how you were being treated?”

“No,” she responds.  “They told her I was very difficult, so she mainly just lectured me about how the Baxters were a decent family and if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up in a really shitty situation.”

“What led to you being placed with the Lassiters?” he asks.

Meadow starts to shrink in on herself, wrapping her arms around her body and lowering her head.  It’s something they’ve practiced against for weeks, but whenever she’s dealing with memories of abuse, she still tends to revert back.  Watching her, Rafael wishes he could comfort her somehow, but she has to do this alone…so he waits a moment.

“Ms. Maddox,” Judge Kimball interrupts, “are you all right?”

Slowly, Meadow nods.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  Sorry, Judge.”  She meets Rafael’s eyes again, and sits up straighter.  “Mr. Baxter was always saying stuff like the n-word, plus stuff like faggot and dyke and stuff.  I had this friend who was black, and he called her a dumb n- word to her face just because the toilet kept running after she used it.  She didn’t know to jiggle the handle.”

He’s heard this story before, but his stomach still tightens as she continues.

“He was in the bathroom fixing the handle and cussing her out.  She ran out of the house, right away.  I didn’t have a lot of friends, but she’d been so nice to me, and I knew those words were wrong.  I’d just turned thirteen, and I remember just feeling so angry and helpless.  So I yelled back at him, that he was a redneck hick moron and everyone knew it.  

“I knew he’d be mad, but I didn’t think he’d be as mad as he got.  When he turned around, he grabbed me by the shirt collar and hauled me out to the garage.  I tried to grab on to the doors but couldn’t get a grip.  When we got out there, he dropped me down onto the cement.  I started to stand up, but that’s when he hit me.  I’d never felt anything like that before.  It stung so badly at first, and then he hit me again.  And again. When he finally stopped, I could barely breathe.  That’s when I saw he was holding an electrical cord.  And he said if I opened my mouth again, it’d be twice as bad.”

“Exhibits eight through seventeen, your Honor–photos and records of Meadow Maddox’s injuries inflicted by Steve Baxter.”  Rafael holds them up, then passes them one at a time to the jury.  It takes a few minutes, and the looks on the jurors’ faces–along with their gasps–say more than anything he could add.  As he turns to resume questioning, his eyes meet Elaine’s for a second.  She glares at him briefly, then looks away.

“Who reported your injuries, Meadow?” he asks, resuming the questioning.

“My teacher did, the next day, when I couldn’t sit down in class,” she explains.  “Elaine had to come to school and take me to the ER, and I got moved that night.”

“To the best of your knowledge, were charges ever filed against Steve Baxter for what he did to you?” Rafael asks, and she shakes her head.

“No.  I heard they got another foster kid, though, a few months later.  A little boy, I think.  I don’t know any more about him,” she adds.

The time is late, and Rafael knows they won’t have enough time to fully cover the abuse Meadow suffered at the Lassiters’ home, so he asks for a recess for the day.  Checking the time, the judge agrees, and the first day of the trial ends.

“You did great,” Sonny tells Meadow as soon as she’s off the stand.  “How are you feeling?”

She sighs.  “Nervous.  I just wanna go see Lottie, is all.”  Turning to Rafael, she asks, “Do we have to go over anything tonight?”

“No,” he answers, closing his attache case.  “We’re set for tomorrow.  Let’s go get your girl, and we’ll pick up some pizza for dinner on the way home.  How’s that sound?”

She smiles, looking relieved.  “Terrific, really!  I bet Lottie will love it–” She’s starts to turn away from him, but stops halfway.  Maureen Lassiter is standing in front of her, frowning.

“You know, they told me you were evil incarnate before we took you in,” she says, arms crossed, “but I didn’t want to believe it.  Meadow, do you know that you just destroyed Steve Baxter’s life?  You just announced to the world that he’s a child abuser.  He’ll lose his job, he’ll be unemployable…now the cops will have to go after him, now that you’ve made all this public–”

“Excuse me,” Sonny interrupts, stepping between the two women, “are you saying the police department knew this had happened, and did nothing about it?”

Maureen lifts her chin defiantly.  “I’m not speaking to you, counselor,” she replies, then turns her focus back to Meadow.  “Young lady, you need to stop this,” she says, low, and her expression softens to something more fearful than angry.  “If you ever loved us like you say you did…please, Meadow…please consider what you’re saying.  Logan is sitting in the county jail right now because of your lies–”

“What?” she asks, blinking.  “I didn’t know anything about that.  How did that happen?”

“When you file a report,” Sonny explains quietly, “the police will work on the case and arrest the suspect if they feel they have enough evidence in the case to move forward.”  Turning to Maureen, he says, “This isn’t because of Meadow.  Your son has raped several young women in the community, and now he’s been caught.  Putting pressure on Meadow is a crime–it’s intimidating a witness, and I’m sure you don’t want to be arrested, too.”

Looking helplessly from Sonny to Meadow, Maureen’s eyes fill with tears before she walks away and out of the courtroom.  Meadow exhales heavily, hanging her head low.

“You okay?” Rafael asks her quietly, rubbing her back.  “I know this is hard, and I know you care about her…but what Logan did is a crime.”

“I know,” she replies.  “Can we just go get Lottie?  I really need my kid.”

“Sure,” Rafael agrees, meeting Sonny’s eyes, and the three of them head out of the courtroom and the courthouse, and into the hot afternoon.

*****

“Meadow, how were you treated by the Lassiters when you first joined their family?”

Sonny is doing the questioning this morning, and they’re hoping to be finished with Meadow’s testimony in the next hour.  Hopefully, the cross examination will be short.  There isn’t a lot to examine her on, Rafael told her the night before.  They’ve been pretty transparent about her issues the whole way through.

“They were really nice,” she says, looking at Maureen.  “Mr. and Mrs. Lassiter, especially, were very kind to me.  I remember there was a time shortly after I moved in there, that I stole some money out of Mrs. Lassiter’s purse.  She pulled me aside privately the next day and told me she knew I had taken it, and that it wasn’t okay, but she thought I must need something if I was taking money.  She asked what I needed to buy.  It was basically just little stuff that kids want, like makeup and candy and stuff, so she decided I needed an allowance.  She gave me thirteen dollars a week, one dollar for every year of my age.  Then we agreed that I needed to work off the money I’d taken. She was a teacher, so I helped her in her classroom on the weekends for a couple of months after that.”  She stopped speaking for a moment, then turned her focus back to Sonny.  “Nobody had ever treated me respectfully like that before.  I had figured they’d beat me or something, and then I’d move on.  But she didn’t.  I really cared about the Lassiters…the parents, I mean, and their daughter, Vicky.  She was a sweet girl.  I didn’t want to leave there.”

“Did anyone in the family hurt you?”

“Their older son, Logan.”  As soon as the words are out, Meadow is biting her lip, and there’s a moment of silence.  Rafael looks up from his legal pad, and for a second, he wonders if she’s going to recant, and this whole thing is going to collapse.

Sonny’s voice takes on a gentler tone.  “Tell us about that.”

Meadow is staring at Maureen Lassiter, who’s staring back intensely.  “He, uh…he liked me, and I liked him.  One thing led to another, and we, um…a few years later, when I was fifteen, I got pregnant, and it was Logan’s.  I’m sorry, Mrs. .Lassiter…I was on the pill and I thought I knew how to use it properly but maybe I didn’t…it was my fault…”

“Your honor, I’d like to request a recess,” Sonny announces, eyes still on Meadow.

“Objection, your honor,” Jack Moyer calls, standing from his seat.  “They have no reason for a recess—”

“It’s my witness, my time,” Sonny replies, then turns to the judge.  “We’d like a recess.”

“Granted,” Judge Kimball says, “Mr. Moyer, your objection is denied.  Recess granted–you have fifteen minutes, Mr. Carisi.”  The gavel comes down, and Sonny quickly ushers Meadow out of the courtroom, Rafael a step behind.

“Meadow, what in the hell was that?” Sonny asks as soon as he shuts the door to the small conference room.  “I hate to break it to you, but this is NOT the time to develop a guilt complex and apologize to Maureen Lassiter!  You know she’s partially responsible for what happened to you, right?  She put her head in the sand while her adult-aged son came over on the weekends and raped you.  You told us multiple times that Logan did not ask for consent, that you told him no, and that he forced himself on you anyway.  And that he’d done that for the better part of two years.  Did you lie to us, or did you just lie to the court?”

“Sonny,” Rafael murmurs, watching Meadow’s head sink in her hands.  She’s sitting in a chair at the table, and her hands are completely covering her face.  Rafael knows shame when he sees it, and it’s coming off of Meadow in waves right now.

Slowly, Rafael pulls out the chair next to Meadow’s and takes a seat, then reaches over and gently rubs her back.  It only takes a few seconds before he can feel her small body shaking under his hand, and he knows she’s crying.  “You know,” he says quietly, “we can stop this anytime you want to.  You say the word, and we stop.  We drop the case, and life goes on as it was.  If that’s what you want, then that’s what we do.”  

She doesn’t speak; he can still feel her shaking under his hand.  “I think it’s the sign of a good person when someone wants to be forgiven by someone they care about, even if they didn’t do anything wrong.  I also think that sometimes it feels easier, for a short time, to accept responsibility for something that somebody else did that was wrong, especially if that’s going to help other people feel better.  The problem is, though, that it’s not the truth.  Meadow, you know that Logan raped you.  He didn’t just make a mistake one time, either.  He raped you, a young girl, for two years, and then pretended that Lottie wasn’t his child.  He hurt you in ways that are still so hard to talk about.  If you choose to let this go, you’re going to have to let it go forever.  You don’t get a second chance here to be compensated for what he did, or for what the state did.  You and Lottie will have to settle for what you have.  But if you can gather your strength to finish this, for you and for Lottie, then you can have a chance to live the kind of life you deserve.  The kind you’ve told me you want.  But it’s up to you.”

He continues to rub her back until Sonny finally checks his watch.  “We’re due back in two minutes.  What are we going to do?”

She wipes her face with her hands; Rafael immediately grabs a handkerchief and hands it to her.  “We’re gonna finish it,” she says, sounding determined.  “I’m ready now.”  Giving a quick dab to her face, she blows her nose, then hands the handkerchief back to Rafael with a slight grin.  “Sorry.”

He smirks, taking it and carefully tucking it into a pocket.  “No problem.”

*****

“Meadow, before the recess, we were talking about Logan Lassiter, and that you had a sexual relationship with him.  Tell us how old you were when that started, and how it started, please.”  Sonny’s trying not to pace as he poses the question, but it’s hard.  He stands still in front of her, keeping his fingers crossed that she’s able to answer.

This time she sits up straight, her eyes focused directly on his.  “I had just turned thirteen when I was taken to the Lassiters.  At first, Logan seemed as nice as the rest of them.  He would come home on the weekends from college.  He was eighteen then, I think.  We both liked certain video games and music, and he’d invite me to his room to play on his Wii or listen to music or whatever.  I liked him at first…he was nice to me.”

“Did something happen to make you change your opinion of him?” Sonny asks, moving closer to the jurors.

There’s a sigh, and then she says, “Yeah.  I mean, yes.  It had been a few months after I moved in, and his parents went out to a party.  Their daughter was at a sleepover, I think. And Logan invited me to his bedroom to play on the Wii. I beat him at the game, and we were joking around about it, and then he leaned over and kissed me.”

“Was that okay with you?”

“Yes, until he started trying to take my clothes off and touch me in…in private places,” she replies.  “I told him to stop, and he laughed and kept going.”

Sonny turns to face her.  “And what happened then?”

“I started to get mad…I pushed him back and told him to stop again.

“And did he?”

“No.  He kept going and pulled his pants off.  He pinned me down and told me to stop fighting, ‘cause it was gonna happen whether I fought him or not.  And I…I started to cry and asked him to please leave me alone, that I’d give him whatever he wanted if he’d stop.  I was really scared.”  She stops talking, glancing at Maureen.  Sonny immediately steps into her view.

“And when you were crying, begging him to stop; when you were really scared, Meadow…what did Logan Lassiter do?” he asks evenly.

She closes her eyes, as though reliving the memory itself.  “He raped me anyway,” she says, then opens her eyes.  “He pinned my wrists with one hand, climbed on top of me, and pushed his di–his penis–inside of me.”

Sonny nods.  “And when he finished, what did he say?”

Meadow reaches up, wiping away a random tear.  “He said that I needed to remember he could do it anytime he wanted to, and I should get used to it.  That if I told anyone, he’d tell them I was lying.  That everyone already knew I was trouble, and he’d make sure I was sent on my way if I ever said a word against him.”

Sonny turns to face the jury.  “And did you say anything against him?”

“Two years later,” she replies.  “When I found out I was pregnant and he told me it wasn’t his.  He was the only boy I’d ever done it with.  I told Elaine that he got me pregnant and I wanted an abortion.”

“And what did Elaine do?”

“She told me it wasn’t up to the state to pay for my mistakes, and I wouldn’t be getting an abortion.  Then she took me to a group home that night.  I never even got to say goodbye to anyone at home–she took me straight from her office.”

“At the time you told Elaine, were you taken to the hospital for a rape kit?”

“No.”

“Were you ever called to testify against Logan Lassiter, for crimes such as statutory rape, rape one, or even child support enforcement?”

Meadow shakes her head.  “No.”

“Thank you, Ms. Maddox,” Sonny finishes, giving a firm, determined nod, and she nods back.

*****

The cross-examination takes roughly half an hour, during which time it becomes increasingly clear that the city is wasting taxpayer money for every hour they’re paying the attorneys at the defense table.  The biggest points the defense tries to make is that Meadow was a difficult, challenging child, and that she came on heavily to Logan Lassiter, as though that somehow translated into the sexual assault being her fault.  The implication is made that Elaine was trying to somehow make life easier for Meadow by not reporting what was said to her.  Rafael is pleasantly surprised that they don’t accuse Meadow of lying, although he’d been ready.  He has a half-dozen witnesses ready to testify regarding what they’d seen with Logan over the years, as well as other foster children who hadn’t received appropriate care from Elaine.

Redirect comes quickly, and Rafael stands to handle it.  He knows Meadow’s tired; he can see it in her face, as well as doubt regarding how well she’s done.

“Ms. Maddox,” he says, smirking, “just to summarize quickly:  were you abused in all three of the foster homes you lived in?”

“Yes,” Meadow replies.

“And was Elaine Arnold your caseworker during all of that time?”

“Yes,” she repeats.

“And at each home, you told Ms. Arnold what had happened to you at some point after being abused, correct?”

Meadow nods.  “Yes I did.”

“And again, just to be clear, you were never taken to the police to file a report, never asked to talk with police about the abuse you suffered, and were not taken to the hospital for a rape kit once it was clear you were a pregnant fifteen-year old?”

“That’s right,” she says.  

“Thank you, Ms. Maddox,” Rafael tells her, smiling, then turns to Judge Kimball.  “That’s all, Judge.”

“Ms. Maddox, you may step down,” Judge Kimball directs her, and Meadow immediately steps out of the witness seat.  “Mr. Barba, you may call your next witness.”

“Excuse me, your honor.” One of the attorneys at the defense table stands.  “We’d like to ask for a recess before proceeding.”

It’s at that point that Sonny looks over and realizes Elaine is no longer in the courtroom.

“Very well,” Judge Kimball responds.  “It’s about lunch time anyway–we’ll reconvene here after lunch, at one p.m.”  She bangs the gavel, and Rafael turns to shoot Meadow a grin.

“You did great,” he tells her, touching her arm.  “You okay?”

She nods.  “I am now,” she replies, then taps Sonny on the arm.  When he turns around, she smiles at him.  “Sorry about earlier…I just…I don’t know, I guess I got scared.”

Sonny smiles back.  “It’s okay,” he says.  “You did great, coming back on the stand.  I’m proud of you, Meadow…I know it was hard.  You have a place in mind for lunch?”

Before she can answer, one of the defense attorneys has approached them.  “Mr. Barba, Mr. Carisi,” he says, “I’m Todd Briggs.  Would the two of you have a bit of time that we could chat before court resumes?”

Rafael, Sonny, and Meadow all look at each other.  “Of course,” Rafael replies, smiling politely.  Turning to Meadow, he says, “You’ll need to go to lunch without us.  We’ll see you at one, all right?”

She nods, then heads out of the courtroom.  Rafael and Sonny follow the defense attorneys into a nearby conference room, closing the door behind them.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is right?” Meadow asks, examining the check Sonny just handed her.  “Does it really say three MILLION dollars?”

“It does,” he confirms, smiling.  “I wanted to push for four, but Rafael here thought we should take it before they changed their minds.”

“I agree with Rafael!” Meadow’s grinning ear to ear.  “I never thought I’d get anything close to this, even after you told me they’d put the estimate at over five million…I figured I’d be lucky to get a few thousand.  Now, how much of this do I pay you guys?  A third, right?”

Rafael takes a seat next to her.  “I’ve made an appointment for you with a financial advisor for tomorrow.  They’ll help you manage this money so it will last for you and Lottie.  As for us, you’re right; normally, it’s a third.  But Sonny and I have discussed it, and we feel a tenth is a reasonable fee.”

Meadow shook her head.  “No, Rafael.  That’s not fair.  I don’t wanna do that–you guys have done so much for me and Lottie–”

“If you give it to us, I’m going to put it in a college account for Lottie,” Rafael replied firmly.  “You can use that money more than we can.  I know two million sounds like a lot, but by the time you pay taxes on it and split it up, it’s not so much.  Besides, we didn’t do this for us.  We did it for you…to even things out a bit from what you’ve been through.”

For a long moment, Meadow stares at him.  Then she throws her arms around him, embracing him tightly.  He chuckles and hugs her back.  “Thank you, Rafael,” she murmurs, and he can hear the tears without seeing them.  “Who knew losing Lottie really would be one of the best things to happen to us?”

As she pulls back, Rafael catches her by the shoulders.  “Only because you were ready to learn the lesson…to do the things you needed to do for you and for Lottie.”

She gives a quick nod, then stands and hugs Sonny.  “Thank you, Sonny…thank you for everything.  I really appreciate you, even when I’m sometimes a dick about it.”

Sonny chuckles, too.  “A dick, huh?  I’ve never thought of it like that.  And you’re quite welcome,” he replies. When they separate, he refills his coffee cup, then takes a seat at the table with the other two.

“So do you guys know if anything’s going to happen to Elaine?  Or Logan?” Meadow asks, nervously drumming her fingers on the table.

“I’ve heard that Elaine’s on leave,” Sonny shares.  “They aren’t specifying for how long yet, but I do know that over the weekend, two more cases were filed against Social Services from other adults who claim they were abused while in foster care, and Elaine was also their worker.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the state ends up having to file charges against her.”  He nods toward Meadow.  “It wasn’t just you.  And you’ve given other victims the courage to stand up for themselves by speaking your truth.  That’s something to be proud of, Meadow.”

“I’m really mad at Elaine, but I also feel bad for her, you know?  I mean, I know social services never has the resources they need to help the amount of kids they have.  I have to keep reminding myself that that doesn’t excuse what she did…that it’s still not okay to ignore a kid’s abuse.  I just don’t know why she did that.  I always thought it was because she didn’t like me, but if she did it to other kids, too…I just don’t know.”

“Who knows?” Rafael responds, reaching over and squeezing her hand.  “It could be in part because you were challenging and that frustrated her.  Or it could be that if their resources were really slim, she wanted to keep foster parents available even if they were abusive, thinking she could retrain them and use them again.  I don’t know.”

“Or,” Sonny adds, “it could be as simple as she sucks at her job.  When you hear hoofprints in Central Park, don’t go looking for zebras, people.”

Rafael smirks as Meadow makes a face.  “Zebras in Central Park?  I didn’t know that was a zoo…I thought it was a park!”

“It is,” Rafael explains.  “He’s just trying to be clever and say that usually the easiest, most common answer is the right one.”

“What about Logan?” she asks.  “Nobody’s contacted me about testifying yet.”

“That’s because Logan accepted a plea,” Rafael shares.  “You should be getting a call in the next day or so, as soon as he’s gone in front of a judge to finalize it.  Over the years, he’s raped several women, and three of you came forward.  He would have been facing some serious time, especially with your age.  As it is, he’s looking at fifteen years, and that’s a gift.”

“You know, that kid had everything,” Sonny notes, shaking his head.  “For the life of me, I don’t know why he’d disappoint his family like that.”

“Because he’s a dog,” Meadow answers, then tilts her head to the side.  “When you’re roaming around the dog pound and hear barking, don’t go looking for teddy bears.”

“Teddy bears?” Sonny echoes, as Rafael cracks up and Meadow grins at him.  He shakes his head and laughs.

*****

“How’d it go with the financial advisor?” Rafael asks Meadow the next day.  They’ve met at the park after Lottie’s school day, so the little girl can play.  She and Sonny are currently digging in the sand pit, something Rafael hates but Sonny doesn’t mind.

“Good!” she tells him excitedly.  “They’re putting me on an allowance for now, and it’ll decrease once I get another job.  Unless I go to school–then I just contact them to pay the tuition.  They went over with me how long the money should last if I’m careful with it.  Did you know if i”m super careful, keep working, and invest properly, it’ll pay for Lottie’s college and everything?  We should be taken care of and not have to worry about living in dumps or having our heat turned off ever again. The key is that I’m careful with it, that’s what they said.  And the guy was really nice–his name’s John–and he said to remember it’s part of his job to keep me on the right path, so if he tells me things I don’t wanna hear, to try to remember he’s lookin’ out for us.”  She smiles at him.  “Like you.  I told him how great you are.  You’re amazing.”

Rafael smiles, but he can feel his heart pounding nervously in his chest.  He and Sonny have talked extensively about this, and it’s time to tell her now.  “Meadow, there’s something I need to let you know,” he starts, but before he can say any more, Lottie runs over and climbs onto her mother’s lap.

“Mommy, I wuv you,” she says sweetly, smiling at her mother, and Meadow smiles back.  Rafael knows she’s being played.  It’s the love announcement–it almost always precedes the request for a sno cone.  “Me an’ Mistuh Sunshine are very firsty…can we get a sno tone?  I pwomise I’ll still eat my yummy dinner…”

Meadow glances at Sonny, who’s smirking at her.  “Okay,” she agrees, “but only one SMALL sno cone for you, understand?  Mister Sunshine can have a big one if he wants, but little sno cones are for little girls, got it?”

Lottie sighs heavily but nods, and Meadow hands her some money.  “Bring me my change, please,” she reminds Lottie, who’s already climbing down.

Stopping at Rafael, Lottie asks, “Hey Wafi-el?  Is it otay if Mistuh Sunshine has a sno-tone, too?”

Sonny’s rolling his eyes as Rafael smirks again.  “I guess that’s okay,” he replies, and reaches in his pocket to add a five to the dollars Meadow gave her.  “Why don’t you get a small one for all of us, kiddo.  Remember what kind I like?”

She nods and grins.  “Bwoody tiger!”

“Close enough,” he chuckles, and she heads off with Sonny.

“So what were you gonna tell me?” Meadow asks, and Rafael feels the smile he was wearing disappear involuntarily.

“Now that the trial is over,” he begins, “it’s time for Sonny and I to head back to Manhattan.”  He pauses for a moment, but she doesn’t say anything.  Instead, she’s picking at a fingernail.  “He has a job back there, and we both have family.  You know, I ended up here initially, trying to find myself, trying to make sense of my life after I realized that Aiden’s death was still impacting me so much.  You and Lottie, you’ve helped me so much with that…you helped me figure out who I am, who I want to be, and that I can do important things for kids without being a father.  And you’ve also shown me that I’m not too old for fatherhood.”  She’s still picking at her nail, so he keeps talking.  “I don’t know if Sonny and I will end up having a child, but I do know now that it’s a possibility I hadn’t realized was there before.  I don’t know if you realize this, Meadow, but you and Lottie have definitely taught me as much or more than I’ve given you.  In spades, honey.  No matter where we are in this world, I will always be here for you, and I’ll always care about you, okay?”

She’s quiet, picking at another nail, and it’s making him nervous.  He’d anticipated this would be hard, but had hoped she would be able to accept it and be okay.  With every second slipping by, he’s starting to realize that isn’t going to happen.

“People always say that,” she says quietly, still focused on her fingernail.  “They say they care about you or they love you, no matter where they go.  Then they skip out and forget all about you.  First they call every week or two, and then they get busy and call maybe once a month.  Then it drops to cards on holidays and birthdays, and eventually, you’re just existing in a funny story they share with their new friends every once in awhile.”

“Meadow,” he starts, “you know I–”

She suddenly looks up at him.  “Why didn’t you ask me and Lottie to come with you guys?” she asks.  “Why didn’t you ask me if I might wanna go to Manhattan?”

He blinks.  “You want to go to Manhattan?  To move to Manhattan?”

She shrugs.  “Why not?  What do I have here?  I don’t have any family or even any real friends.  I live in section eight housing that I’m gonna have to move out of now anyway.  I want my kid to have chances at good things, but I don’t know how to do all that by myself–”

“You’ll learn,” he interrupts.  “You’re doing a fantastic job as her mom, and you’ll keep learning from other people–”

“I don’t wanna learn from other people!” she snaps suddenly.  “I wanna learn from you .”  Her eyes are downcast when she continues.  “I already told you, but I guess you thought I was just saying it…you’re like a dad now to me, and I haven’t had that since I was six.  I don’t wanna live with you or anything, Rafael.  I mean, I wanna go to school, and Lottie to go to school.  I wanna get a job in something I enjoy.  And I wanna spend time with the two people who actually give a shit about me and my daughter.”  She glances at him.  “Call me crazy.”

“You really want to go,” he muses, just as Lottie and Sonny approach the table.

“Here you go!” Lottie announces, handing Rafael the dark red concoction.  “One bwoody tiger for my Wafi-el!”  Sonny hands Meadow one called “unicorn”.

“Yeah,” Meadow answers Rafael.  “I really do.  I’m tired of bein’ left behind, or kicked out.”

Rafael turns to Sonny.  “She wants to try living in Manhattan.”

“No offense,” Sonny responds, “but after that trial, I get why you wouldn’t want to stay here.”

“We gonna live with a man?” Lottie asks, confused, looking at her mom.  “What’s a hattan?”

“No, we’re going to live in Manhattan,” she explains. “It’s a place.  It’s where Rafael and Sonny used to live.  They’re going back to live there.  I want to go live there, too.  What do you think?”

Lottie hums.  “Dey got sno tones?”

Sonny nods.  “Yep, they do.”

“And parks wike dis one?”

“Bigger,” Rafael tells her.  “With ponds, and carousels, and even a zoo.”

Lottie finishes her spoonful of ice.  “I’m in,” she replies.  “When are we gonna go?”

Rafael glances at Sonny one more time.  “Now we have someone to drive the car,” Sonny announces, winking at Meadow, and Rafael’s overcome with how much he loves this man.

*****

“You’re sure about this?” Rafael whispers in bed that night.  “I didn’t anticipate her saying that.”

“I did,” Sonny replies, then rolls over to face him.  “She truly thinks of you like a dad.  She trusts you implicitly, Rafi.  I think it’s the best thing in the world for her and Lottie to leave here and get a new start somewhere.  Especially somewhere close to you.”

“Close to us,” Rafael answers.  He loves Sonny, but his biggest fear is that Sonny may not be ready to love Rafael with Meadow and Lottie tagging along as a package deal.  He knows that he certainly would have hesitated if the situation were reversed, three years ago.

“I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t make me a little nervous,” Sonny says honestly.  “I’ve never been in a situation like this before.  But they need you.  And honestly, Rafi?  You’ve come to need them.  They’re your family now.”

“You are too,” Rafael adds.  “You were just a little late to the game, is all.  To this game, I mean…to this particular inning…oh, hell!  You know what I mean!”

They both chuckle.  “You promised you’d stay, remember?” Rafael reminds him, as they quiet down.  “As long as I tried?  As long as I was honest?”

Sonny strokes his hair, a soft smile on his face.  “Indeed, I did, love,” he replies, pecking a kiss on Rafael’s lips.  “I did and I will.”

Chapter Text

“Here baby!  Here ya go.”  Lottie gently puts the pacifier in the baby’s mouth.  “That’s right…you’re such a pretty baby, aren’t you?”

“You ready, Lottie-love?” Sonny asks, seeing her sitting on the floor next to the baby.  “We’re about ready to go to the courthouse.”

“Okay,” she replies, slipping on her shoes.  “Where’s Momma and Rafi?”

“They’ve already left,” he reminds her.  “Remember, they were going to meet us there once you girls were ready.”  He picks up the baby carrier and grins at the infant inside.  “There’s my happy girl,” he smiles, and the baby giggles.  It’s hard to believe she’s almost four months old now.  It seems like Gina just gave birth to her last week.

He, Lottie, and the baby leave the apartment, locking the door, and take the elevator down.  The uber is already there, and Sonny helps get both girls in and buckled appropriately.  It’s adoption day, and they’re all excited.

*****

“Come in! Come in!” Judge Linden greets them, and smiling, Sonny guides Lottie in through the door, following closely behind with the baby.  “Well, don’t you look so pretty today!” the judge fusses over the now-seven year old.  “You must be Lottie!  I’ve heard all about you!”

“From my momma!” Lottie exclaims, then grins at Meadow, who’s sitting nearby, next to Rafael.  “Hi Momma!  Can I sit with you and Rafi?”

Meadow smiles at her.  “Hi sweetheart.  You sure can. C’mon over here.”  Lottie quickly squeezes around the furniture, until she’s standing between Rafael and her mother.  She turns to Rafael.  “Hi Rafi,” she grins.  “I misseded you this morning.”

“I missed you too,” he reassures her, returning her impulsive hug.  He glances over to Sonny, who’s taken the baby out of the carrier and is in a seat himself now, balancing the baby in his lap.

“So, are we all ready now?” Judge Linden asks, smiling at everyone.  “Ready to proceed with the adoption?”

There’s nods amongst the adults, as well as smiles, as Judge Linden opens the file and reviews all of the paperwork.  “It looks as though everything here is in order, so I just have a few questions for all of you.  First, I’m sure that you all understand that what you’re requesting is a bit different than most of the adoptions I grant.  However, New York law does allow it.  Rafael, is it your desire to adopt Meadow April Maddox as your legal child, making her privy to all of the rights and responsibilities of any other child you may have, including that sweet little one in your husband’s lap?”

The adults all chuckle at that.  “Yes,” Rafael replies, looking at Meadow.  His mouth immediately turns upward into a soft smile.  “I very much want to adopt Meadow as my daughter.”  His hand rests upon hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, and Judge Linden passes a tissue across her desk to Meadow, who dabs away her tears.

“And Meadow, is it your desire to be adopted by Rafael Eduardo Barba, making him privy to all of the rights and responsibilities of any parent?”

She nods, tears coming more quickly.  “Yes, your Honor…he’s already been more of a dad to me than anyone else in my life.”

“That’s for sure!” Lottie interjects, and they all chuckle again.  Meadow pulls her close and presses kisses to her head.

“And Miss Lottie,” Judge Linden focuses on the little girl.  “Are you excited to have a grandpa now?”

“An abuelo,” Lottie corrects her.  “Rafi’s gonna be my abuelo…right, Rafi?”

Rafael grins at her.  “That’s right, mi nieta…but Sonny is your grandpa.”

Lottie turns and looks Sonny in the eye.  He grins back at her, and she gasps, “What?!?  Mind…Blown…poof!”

They’re all still laughing when the Judge then turns to Sonny.  “And Sonny, are you ready for a new role as stepfather and step-grandfather?”

Sonny’s gazing at Rafael, and he winks with a soft smile.  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answers.  “Your Honor, honestly?  We love these girls.  We may be an odd gathering, but I couldn’t choose a better family.  Every person here…they’re a piece of my heart.  And I’m not even adopting anyone today.”

The judge’s smile warms to something heartfelt.  “Your words truly sum up the whole reason we do these types of adoptions,” she replies, then brings her attention back to Rafael and Meadow.  “Rafael, Meadow, it is my pleasure to grant your request for an adoption.  You are now legally father and daughter.  You’re a family.  Congratulations!”

A moment later, the two are standing, and Rafael has pulled Meadow into a tight hug.  “I love you, kiddo,” he murmurs to her.

“And I love you, too, Dad, ” she teases, despite the tears in her eyes.  Rafael pulls back from her to examine her expression, and seeing her laughing, he gently wipes her tears and joins her in the chuckle.

“And me!” Lottie says, squeezing in between the two.  “You guys love me, y’know!”

“We do,” Rafael agrees, scooping the little girl up and into the hug.  Then he motions to his husband.  “C’mon over here, stepdaddy.”

Sonny snorts humorously and joins them as Judge Linden snaps several photos for them.  

“Some days I just love my job,” the judge sighs delightedly, and continues to snap pictures of the newly formed family.

*****

“Welcome to the family, nieta!” Lucia greets Meadow, engulfing her in a hug as they all enter the party room at a local restaurant a little bit later.  Lucia’s hosting an adoption reception for their friends and family, with assistance from Sonny’s mother Serafina.  It’s a come and go-type thing where people can just stop by, enjoy some food and friends, and wish the new family much happiness.  As Rafael looks around, he sees the room is already fairly full with lots of people they know and love.

“Thanks, Abuelita,” Meadow replies, a huge smile on her face.  Ever since their first introduction two years ago, Meadow and Lucia have been extremely close.  Lucia has never been one to mince words, and that’s a trait that Meadow appreciates tremendously.  “Why waste time beatin’ around some bush when I fuck up?” she’d asked Rafael once when he’d been concerned that his mother might have offended her.  “She just lays it out, and that way I don’t have to guess.  And shockingly, she does it without beatin’ me.  Your mom is amazing.  You know, like you!”

Lottie’s already charged through the crowd of people, looking for her new bestie.  Jesse Rollins is about her age, and the two girls first met in kindergarten, right after Lottie moved to Manhattan.  They became fast friends, and it’s stayed that way.  “There you are, Jesse!” Lottie announces, finally seeing her friend sitting at a table, eating a cookie.  “I been lookin’ all over for you!”

“You guys took for-EVER!” Jesse tells her, then hands her a cookie wrapped in a napkin.  “Want it? It’s chocolate chip.  I got it for you.  Is your momma ‘dopted now?”

“Yep,” Lottie answers, taking the cookie and nibbling at the edge.  “We both got ‘dopted!  Momma’s Rafi’s daughter, and now I’m his granddaughter, too!  He dopted both of us!”

“Wow,” Jesse says, and starts to laugh.  “Plus he getted married to Uncle Sonny and they made a baby!  Uncle Rafi’s family is gettin’ SO big!”

At a nearby table, Sonny has taken a seat next to his mother and handed the baby off, per her request.  “Look at you, my precious angel,” Serafina coos.  “Grammy’s sweet Gracie…she’s perfect, Sonny.  Now are you and Rafael putting her in her own room at night yet?  It’s time.  Don’t baby her.”

“Ma,” Sonny replies, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, “she IS a baby.  It’s literally impossible to baby a baby.”

She swats his arm.  “You know what I mean–”

“And you know that Rafi and I have decided not to let her cry it out.  That’s not going to change, Ma,” he replies firmly, watching as his mother indulges in an eye-roll at him.

It’s an argument they’ve had several times since little Gracie was born.  Serafina is fairly old-school and believes in letting babies cry it out at night to learn how to self-soothe.  Sonny and Rafael, however, have read several articles talking about the importance of comforting your baby at night, as well as how damaging it can be for babies to be left to cry.  

A moment later, Rafael joins them, and Gracie immediately squeals, reaching for him. Serafina reluctantly hands over the baby to her papi.  “Hello, my sweet girl,” Rafael greets her, kissing her cheek.  The baby giggles, her little hands in fists, waving in the air.  “Everyone get something to eat?” he asks, taking a seat next to Sonny.

Serafina pats Rafael on the arm.  “Tell my son I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“I already know that, Ma,” Sonny replies, giving his mother a tense smile. “Can we talk about something other than how Gracie sleeps?  Literally anything else?”

“What would you like to talk about?” his mother returns, smiling back.

“I’d like to talk about Gina,” Rafael interjects, determined to clear the tension in the air.  “How’s the trip to Europe?”

Serafina’s smile turns genuine, and just like that, the tension is gone.  “She’s having a terrific time!  She’s in Germany right now, and says there’s just so much to see.  She already wants to go back at Christmas, if you can believe that.  She said to tell you both and the baby hello and she sends her love.”

“I’m glad she’s enjoying it,” Rafael replies.  “I’m glad somebody could use those air miles before they expired.”

Sonny chuckles, reaching over to let the baby grab his finger with her little fist.  “We need to send Auntie Gina a video of you, my little love.”

Nobody had been more surprised than Sonny when Gina had called them, shortly after their wedding, and asked to come over to talk about something important.  They’d invited her over immediately, and that Friday evening, they popped a bottle of wine, set out some appetizers, and gathered around the coffee table.

“I’d told myself years ago that I would offer this if Sonny ever married a man,” she began, and both Rafael and Sonny looked at each other in confusion.  

“Offer what?” Sonny asked.  “I’m confused.”

She let out a nervous sigh, then chuckled.  “I’m sure you are.  See, I heard through the grapevine that you two may be considering having a baby…and I’m here to talk to you about surrogacy.”  At their blank looks, Gina continued.  “See, I know this is very private and I normally would never approach you about this, except my age…”  She sighed again, turning to Rafael.  “Sonny already knows this.  I’ve never wanted to have a kid.  Still don’t.  I’m almost forty, so my time is running out anyway, thank God.  But I’ve always known that Sonny wanted kids, and I’ve also pretty much always known that he’s bi.”  She glanced at her brother, who gave her a gentle smile.  “Anyway, I never wanted his sexuality to keep him from being able to be a father.”  Now she looked at her brother again, a look of determination on her face.  “I decided a long time ago that if and when you got married to a man, if you ever needed a surrogate, I would offer.  I won’t give you guys an egg or anything, because that would be a little weird and feel a bit incestuous.  But if you need to borrow a uterus for forty weeks to grow your baby, I’m your gal!”

The cryobank retrieved Rita’s eggs and found that six of the ten still seemed viable.  After much discussion (and a little debate), they decided both men would provide a semen sample, which the lab would then combine and use to fertilize the eggs.  They agreed to attempt to fertilize three, but were only successful with two.  Both were then implanted, with the hopes that one would take.

The entire process was incredibly stressful for all three of them.  Many times Rafael wondered if what they were doing was ethical, and he’d even questioned himself again as to whether he was playing God.  On more than one occasion, he found his new husband praying for both his sister and the baby; what Rafael didn’t know was all of the times Sonny’s prayers included him.

But when the phone call came a few weeks later that they’d been successful, that one of the embryos was now attached and growing inside of Gina’s uterus, Rafael didn’t know whether his relief or his joy was greater.  And then nine months after that, after six hours of a labor that caused Gina to curse both men to hell and promise to disown her brother, little Gracie entered the world.  And they all knew every moment of stress, every bit of worry, had been worth it.

Although Sonny and Rafael couldn’t pay Gina for what she had done for them, they talked long and hard about an appropriate gift, and decided upon the unused air miles Rafael had left over from his years in the DA’s office.  Gina had always dreamt of taking a trip to Europe, and the air miles saved enough on the cost that she could finally go.  And that’s where she was now, exploring all of the places she’d imagined for so long.

As little Gracie clings to Sonny’s finger, he leans over and kisses her head.  Meeting his husband’s eyes, he whispers, “So sweet.  Both of your daughters are so sweet.”

Rafael grins.  “You’re telling me.”

“Oh, gimme a turn with that baby,” Rollins suddenly interrupts them, tapping Rafael on the shoulder.  He gently hands her over, and Gracie looks confused for just a moment before returning to her regular, happy self.  “Hello, sweetheart,” she coos to Grace as Serafina stands, patting Rafael on the shoulder.  

“I’m going to get some food, but make sure you tell me before you leave, Dominick.”  His mother winks at him briefly, and he smiles at her and waves as she heads over to the buffet.

“The food is terrific,” Amanda shares as she sinks into the chair Serafina just abandoned.  “I just got a chance to talk to Meadow and her boyfriend” she tells Rafael.  “I didn’t know they’re in  school together.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “They’re both studying social work.  I can’t speak for Grant, but Meadow is doing spectacularly well.  I wasn’t sure how she’d do, but apparently, she’s knocking it out of the park.  Almost all A’s.”  He knows he sounds like he’s bragging, but that’s because he is.  For years, Meadow was told she was lazy and incompetent.  It’s all just been a reminder for everyone who knows their story how the stress of a child’s environment can strongly impact her school performance.

If he were to be completely honest, though, Rafael knows part of Meadow’s success probably is due to Grant, her boyfriend. The two met through a casual picnic that Fin’s son Ken and his husband Alejandro had thrown.  Meadow had been interested in social work, so they’d invited her to come by and meet some friends and students.  Grant had been there, and was finishing up his bachelor’s degree at the time. Now he’s in the graduate program, so he’s further along than Meadow, and he’s been an extremely positive source of encouragement for her.  Ken’s also been a great support.  But Rafael also knows how often Meadow had any credit she’d earned taken away from her in school settings in the past, and he’s determined not to repeat that mistake.  As he’s reflecting on Meadow’s progress, Rafael glances across the room where his new daughter is chatting with friends–including Grant, Ken, Alejandro, Fin, and Olivia Benson.  A smile inadvertently crosses his face.

“I’m really glad she’s doing well,” Amanda replies.  “I think I’m gonna take Lottie with me when we leave–I’m off for the rest of the day, and Jesse’s been begging me for a sleepover. Meadow says it’s okay with her.  Unless a grandpa objects,” she shares, then takes a bite of a mini quiche.

“She’ll love that, Rollins,” Sonny tells her with a grin.  “She told me yesterday that Jesse’s her BFF.”  All three adults chuckle.  “Look,” he points out to the dance floor, where both little girls are holding hands and dancing together.  “They’re gonna keep you busy, Amanda!”

“That’s just fine…I’m used to it,” she replies, then kisses the baby’s nose, and Gracie reaches out clumsily, giggling as she grabs Amanda’s hair.

*****

A couple hours later, Rafael’s sitting in a chair with Gracie asleep in his arms, watching the party wind down.  There’s a handful of people still hanging around, but most of their friends have already left.  Meadow had a class late this afternoon, so she and Grant had left awhile ago, as did Ken, Alejandro, and Fin.  Amanda had taken Lottie with her and Jesse; they had to pick up Billie from school.  Currently, Rafael’s watching Sonny chat with his new boss, Ms. Maxwell, across the room.  He knows they’re discussing a case, because Sonny had made a point to pull the woman away, to a more private area.

“I can’t believe how big she’s gotten,” he hears, just as Liv takes a seat next to him and smiles.  “How’re you doing, Rafa?”

He can’t help but grin at her.  “Great.  Is there any way I could be anything less than terrific right now?”

“Congratulations, my sweet friend,” she tells him, then strokes Gracie’s hair.  “Her hair is so soft.  Just reminds me of Noah at that age, you know?”

He chuckles.  “I do.”  Without another word, he reaches up and removes a locket from around his neck.  It had been tucked under his collar and tie, like his crucifix, and Liv’s eyes go big when she sees it.

“Is this…is it what I think it is?” she asks, delicately fingering the AEB on the outside.

“It is,” he confirms.  “Sonny had it made for me recently.  Go ahead, open it.”

Carefully, she opens the locket.  On one side, there’s a tiny clip of a child’s dark brown hair.  On the other is a thumb-size photo of Aiden.  He watches as her smile softens even more. “I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but he was a beautiful baby.” She looks up at him.  “You do realize his spirit is here with you today, right?  I’m sure of it…and probably Lauren’s, too.”

Rafael nods.  “Yeah, I kind of agree.  A few years ago I would’ve asked what you were smoking, but now…I don’t know, Liv.  Life is an odd duck.  Nearly four years ago I was running from myself, and now?  I’m a dad of three and a granddad of one, and I’m married to the love of my life…”  As Gracie starts to fuss, he brings her closer to his face and kisses her cheek gently.  “The only one who ever knew I wanted this so much was Lauren, so I don’t know.  I can’t explain it.”

“You knew it, too,” she reminds him.  “And something tells me that Sonny has been a terrific encourager…”

Rafael chuckles, then kisses Gracie’s head again.

*****

“Okay, so I’m here.”  Rita Calhoun takes a seat across from Rafael and sets her purse on the table next to her.  “So what are you hoping for, outta this?”

Rafael smirks behind his coffee mug.  He’s known this woman for most of his life.  She’s known shit about him when nobody else has, and she’s still kept it confidential even when it could have benefitted her immensely to share it.  And a few years ago, when he was desperate and lost, she gave him ten eggs, one of which resulted in the little life wiggling around in the baby carrier on the seat next to him.  “Mainly,” he says, setting down his coffee cup, “that you get comfortable enough seeing her that you don’t dodge seeing me …especially when you’re invited to events like the adoption party we had last week.”

Rita rolls her eyes.  “I told you, I had an arraignment I had to do–”

“Right,” he snickers, “slumming it in arraignment court.  I forgot.”

She snorts.  “Hey!  Are you supposed to talk like that around her?” She nods toward the baby.  “Besides, I sent you a cookie bouquet.  Just like I sent you that monthly toy subscription when your baby was born.  I don’t know what you want from me, Barba.”  

Just then, the waiter appears, and Rita looks up to order some coffee and a fruit cup.  Then she turns her attention back to Rafael.  “Wanna hold her?” he asks, but doesn’t move the baby any closer.

Rita makes a face.  “What is this about, Rafael?” she hisses.  “I told you, I’m not a mother-type.  I made that clear when I gave those eggs to you.  Now you’re acting like you want me to be involved in her life and I–I just–I can’t.”

Initially, Rita had been extremely supportive of their pregnancy.  It hadn’t been until after the baby was born that Rafael realized there might be some kind of problem.  Since Gracie’s birth, Rita has avoided him AND Sonny like the plague.  Any invitations they’ve sent have either been quickly rebuffed or completely ignored, including the most recent one.  Rafael recognizes that seeing Grace might be difficult for Rita, and she might have some uncomfortable feelings.  But she’s been one of his friends for most of his life, and he’s not ready to give up on it yet.

“Rita,” he says quietly, reaching across the table to take her hand, “Sonny and I are her parents.  We don’t want you to be a parent to Grace.  But you’ve been one of my closest friends for almost thirty years.  I don’t want to lose that friendship.  If she makes you that uncomfortable, then we can agree that you don’t see her.  But I absolutely hate the thought of our friendship dying because of this beautiful baby.”

The waiter delivers Rita’s coffee and fruit to the table and refills Rafael’s cup, then leaves.  Rita takes a long sip, then puts her coffee down.  “I can’t believe I have to put this into words for you, Rafi,” she says, and her voice is low and heavy.  “She doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and it’s not that I don’t want to see her.  It’s that I’m afraid if I see her, I’ll…”  Her voice breaks slightly.  “I’ll want her.”

It’s something he’s wondered and worried about as well; something he and Sonny have talked about more than once.  “Well, you won’t know unless you do,” he replies, keeping his voice even.  “I don’t know if you’ll feel an immediate connection to her or not.  Regardless, and I say this with immense love and affection for you, she is not your daughter.   She’s mine and Sonny’s.  We think she’s beautiful.”  He allows his mouth to morph into a smirk.  “But that’s probably because of our genes, not yours.”

“Fuck you, Barba,” she returns, and they both laugh softly.  “Fine, let me see your little masterpiece there.  Hand her over.”

He raises one eyebrow skeptically.  “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she replies, then reaches her arms out.  “Let me see.”

He smiles, reaching into the carrier, and unbuckles the baby, picking her up carefully.  “Rita wants to meet you,” he tells Gracie, whose big eyes are watching him carefully.  “Now be nice…without her, you wouldn’t be hanging out with us.”

He carefully hands the baby to Rita, and Rita holds Grace in her arms so she can more easily see her face.  “Well,” she says after a moment, “thank God you didn’t get Daddy’s huge honker of a nose.  I was always worried about that.”  She watches Grace for a few more minutes, then asks, “Do you know which one of you is the father?  Did you have it tested?”

“No,” Rafael replies.  “We decided we want to wait until such a time that we need to know…if there’s a medical emergency or something.”

Rita’s eyes dart from the baby to Rafael’s face and she’s now watching him.  “I hate to break it to you,” she says, “but this is your baby.”

He knows that.  He’s known ever since the moment he held her, with her dark brown thatch of hair and wide green eyes.  “We don’t know for sure,” he repeats.  “Genes are funny things.”

She chuckles, looking at the baby again.  “How about that? You and I made a baby, Barba.  Genetically, I mean.  Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to your hubby.” She tickles Gracie under the chin, and the baby smiles at her.  “Your daddies really love you, kid.  You’re a lucky girl.  Don’t forget that, okay?”

When she hands the baby back to Rafael, Rita reaches over and gently strokes the top of Gracie’s head.  “You know, when I gave you that present, I wasn’t sure you’d ever really use it,” she muses, then meets his eyes.  “I really mean it when I say that I’m so glad you did, Rafi…you were meant to be a daddy to a living child.  And now you’ve got two.”

He follows her out of the cafe, baby carrier in hand.  “Life is bizarre, isn’t it?” he muses aloud.

“So bizarre,” she agrees, then nods toward the baby.  “This is truly the happiest possible ending for any of my eggs that I could ever imagine.”

He laughs.  “Well, I'm glad I could contribute to your egg’s happily ever after.”

“Of course you contributed,” she tells him.  “What else are friends for?”

Lauren climbs onto the bed next to him.  “I know it’s scary,” she says, clutching his hand into hers.  “I know we’re babies and we’re having a baby.  I know what we thought was gonna happen isn’t gonna happen the way we planned.  But think about it, baby…there’s good stuff too…we get more time together this way.  And you know what I'm excited about?”

“What?” he asks hesitantly.  The whole idea of being a dad still scares the shit out of him, no matter how much they’ve fantasized a happy life together.

“Watching you become a daddy,” she replies, squeezing his hand.  “I know you’re terrified of it.  But I know you’re gonna be great.”

He shakes his head, tears in his eyes.  “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Know how I know?” she asks, lying next to him and kissing his nose.  “Because of how you love me.  Your dad hits you, he hits your mom…he’s disrespectful and an alcoholic.  But you, Rafi?  You’ve never raised a finger to me–even when we argue, even when I told you I was gonna go to Columbia.  You held me and kissed me and told me you loved me and you’d support my dreams.  That’s the kind of man who’s gonna be an amazing dad.  Sure, you’ve got stuff to learn.  But you’ll learn it.  You’ll find the right path. You’ll get there.”

And he has.