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.