The New York skyline twinkled in the early evening light, casting a golden hue across the city. You stood outside the precinct, the air thick with tension, your thoughts a jumble of memories you had tried to forget. It had been years since you and Rafael Barba had shared something that felt deep and meaningful. Back then, before either of you joined the Special Victims Unit, your relationship was brief but intense—a whirlwind of passion that had ended abruptly, leaving a trail of unresolved feelings.
As you stepped inside, the familiar buzz of the precinct washed over you, but the excitement of another day’s work was muted by the weight of your history with Rafael. He was seated at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration, but you could feel the tension crackling between you from across the room.
“Hey,” you said, forcing a smile as you approached him.
He looked up, his expression unreadable. “You’re late. What happened?”
“Traffic,” you replied, shrugging it off. The usual banter felt strained, as if the air around you was charged with something unsaid.
“I hope you can keep up,” he said, a hint of challenge in his tone.
You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the mood light. “I always do, Barba.”
But as the day progressed, the tension lingered. A case had come across your desks—a sensitive one involving a survivor whose past had come back to haunt her. The details were raw, the emotions palpable, and you found it hard not to draw parallels to your own experiences with Rafael.
As you gathered evidence and interviewed witnesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this case was digging up more than just the survivor’s trauma. Memories of the late-night talks you shared with Rafael flooded your mind—his laughter, the way he would look at you with an intensity that made your heart race. But with those memories came the realization of how quickly everything had changed.
Later that evening, as you reviewed the case files together in the conference room, Rafael’s frustration boiled over. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. We need to focus on her healing, not just the legalities,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair.
You narrowed your eyes, feeling a flash of irritation. “And I suppose you think you have all the answers? You can’t just push the emotional stuff aside like it doesn’t matter.”
His gaze locked onto yours, a storm brewing behind his dark eyes. “I’m not pushing it aside. I’m trying to keep us on track.”
With every heated exchange, the air between you grew thicker, tension simmering just beneath the surface. It was clear that the case was dredging up feelings you had both buried long ago.
Benson, ever the supportive friend, noticed the tension escalating. During a quiet moment in the break room, she pulled you aside. “You and Rafael need to talk about what’s going on. This isn’t just about the case anymore.”
You sighed, leaning against the counter. “I know. But it’s complicated. We had a past, and it didn’t end well.”
“That’s exactly why you need to hash it out,” she urged. “You’re both adults. You can’t let it linger like this, especially not when you’re working together so closely.”
You nodded, appreciating her insight but feeling the weight of her words. Talking about your feelings was never easy, especially when they were tangled up in past heartbreak.
Later that day, you found yourself sharing a quiet moment with Rollins. She leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. “You know, I’ve been there too,” she said, her voice low. “Sometimes, love is worth the risk, even if it’s scary.”
“Love? This isn’t about love; it’s about unresolved issues,” you replied, feeling defensive.
Rollins chuckled softly. “You can call it whatever you want, but there’s something there between you two. You just need to figure it out before it eats you alive.”
As the days passed, the case continued to challenge you both, but the emotional toll it was taking became harder to ignore. One night, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself at the precinct long after everyone had left. The dim lights cast shadows across the room as you pored over the case files, trying to make sense of it all.
Rafael entered, his expression tight. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“Neither should you,” you shot back, feeling the familiar spark of anger flare.
He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking. “We can’t keep doing this. The arguing, the tension—it’s unprofessional.”
“Is that all this is to you? Unprofessional?” you asked, your voice rising. “Because it feels a lot deeper than that.”
Rafael’s gaze softened for a moment, and you could see the flicker of vulnerability behind his usual bravado. “It’s complicated, okay? I thought we were moving past this.”
“Moving past what?” you challenged, feeling your heart race. “The fact that we had something real? The fact that it fell apart?”
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his features. “We were young. It was a mistake.”
“Was it?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Because it felt like more than just a fling to me.”
Silence enveloped you both, the air thick with unspoken words.
In that moment, everything shifted. Rafael stepped forward again, his expression earnest. “I’ve always cared about you, and it’s been hard to watch you move on without me. But this—this isn’t just about the past; it’s about the present too. We need to figure out how to work together without this tension ruining everything.”
You met his gaze, and for the first time, you saw the longing that mirrored your own. “What do you want from me, Rafael?”
“I want us to be okay,” he replied softly. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t matter.”
You took a deep breath, the weight of your history pressing down on you. “Maybe we can’t just forget the past, but we can address it. We need to talk about what happened and how we both feel.”
As you both sat down, the tension that had been a constant presence between you began to fade. You talked about the good times and the bad, about why you had ended things and what it meant for both of you now. It was cathartic, and with every word, you felt the old wounds begin to heal.
“I regret how we ended things,” Rafael admitted, his voice raw. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know,” you said, your heart aching for the younger versions of yourselves. “But we can’t keep letting it haunt us. We need to figure out how to move forward.”
As the night wore on, the conversation shifted, and the laughter returned. The walls that had been built around your hearts began to crumble, and you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was still something worth salvaging.
In the days that followed, you both worked to redefine your relationship. It wasn’t easy, and there were still moments of tension, but the openness between you felt liberating. Benson and Fin began to notice the shift, and you could see the understanding in their eyes.
“You two finally talked it out?” Fin teased one day, a knowing smirk on his face.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your lips. “Something like that.”
Benson placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m proud of both of you. Just take it slow, alright?”
As you navigated the complexities of your relationship, the case continued to challenge you both professionally. But this time, you faced it together, united in a way you hadn’t been before. The shared history that once haunted you now became a foundation upon which you could rebuild.
One evening, as you wrapped up another long day at the precinct, Rafael caught your eye from across the room. You could see the warmth in his gaze, the lingering connection that had always been there.
“I know it’s been tough,” he said quietly as you approached. “But I’m glad we’re figuring it out together.”
You nodded, your heart swelling with hope. “Me too, Rafael. We’ve come a long way.”
In that moment, you both knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together—past and all. And while the future was uncertain, you felt ready to embrace it, hand in hand, knowing that love could sometimes be worth the risk.
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