#at least just for rafas retirement maybe? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surreality51 · 2 years ago

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For the fedal promp thing, maybe fedal with the Federer children or meeting babyrafa? 🥺

You know, funny you should mention the Federer children, because I just happened to have a ficlet sitting on my laptop that includes guest appearances from the Federer children. You've inspired me to finish it. Here you go:

Roger didn’t mean to build a compound for himself and Rafa along the shores of Lake Zurich. It certainly didn’t start out that way. How it really started was with the idea that he wouldn’t mind doing mini coaching sessions every now and then in his retirement, especially with young up-and-coming players, but not full-time coaching and the tour travel that came with it. No, he promised Mirka and the kids that he would stay home for a while, get adjusted to life after the tour, do some more biking and hiking, and keep working on his knee. But during one of the Laver Cup post-match interviews, he mentioned the idea of inviting young players to visit him at home in Switzerland for short coaching stints. He didn’t think much of it at the time; it was a throwaway comment in the midst of the media blitz around his retirement. Plus, he invited young pros all the time to be his practice partner when he was training in Dubai or before tournaments. It wasn’t like this was new.

Much to his surprise—but not Tony’s or Mirka’s, or apparently anyone else on his team—the inquiries started coming in immediately.

Exponentially.

Torrentially.

“Roger,” said Tony, pinching the bridge of his nose, “what were you thinking? Of course people are going to be interested in being coached by you. Why would you even throw that out there as a possibility if you’re not really interested in it right now?”

Roger shrugged. “I meant in the future, in a ‘never say never’ type of way. How was I supposed to know that people would take it literally?”

“Roger,” Tony growled, as his phone pinged for the hundredth time that hour. “It’s not rocket science. The ball kids could’ve seen this coming. The janitor could’ve seen this coming. The fucking fish & chips guy outside the O2 could’ve seen this coming.”

“Oh, you got chips from Mick recently? How are his daughters?”

“They’re good, the older one is at university now and—hey, don’t deflect, I’m not done being pissed at you.”

Tony swatted at him. Roger cackled and ducked behind Seve.

The inquiries and entreaties pouring in were endless: When would he be able to take on a student? How many would he be willing to take at a time? This one was willing to travel here from the US, that one all the way from Argentina. So-and-so was a future number one, if only Roger would work with him. Tony looked like he wanted to flatten Roger with the sheer power of his exasperation as he politely fielded all the calls, emails, texts, and, on one memorable occasion, a swan ice sculpture delivered to the Team8 office with the inquiry folded in its beak. Roger couldn’t do anything besides shrug sheepishly.

But the idea still appealed to him: the notion that he could have the best of both worlds, stay involved by helping young players evolve and also have dinner with his family every night. So in between making waffles with the kids, hitting the ball around on local practice courts, rehabbing his knee, and attending to his sponsorship duties—one aspect that certainly had not slowed down despite his retirement—the idea started to take form in his mind. The players would definitely need to come to him here, they would need to stay for at least a few weeks at a time, and it would need to be somewhere close. But he also knew that not every promising young player could afford to live out of a hotel or rented house for several weeks in his multimillion franc neighborhood. He decided early on that he didn’t want money or means to be a barrier for talent. But where would they stay? And what about their parents, coaches, or other members of their team?

It became obvious that if Roger was serious about this, then he would need to provide room and board. Somewhere close by, ideally walking distance, or maybe even on his property. They already had one guest house planned for their new home that was under construction. Maybe they could repurpose that, and there would need to be a gym attached, and—

“No, not next to the court. Nobody wants to feel like they’re sleeping on a tennis court,” said Mirka.

She was slicing some fruit for breakfast, her hair pulled back in an immaculate bun but the rest of her still wrapped in a robe.

Roger opened his mouth but Mirka cut him off.

“Nobody sane wants to sleep on a tennis court,” she amended, her hands moving efficiently with the knife.

Roger grinned and popped a bite of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“Okay, what if we set it a little back, along the back line of our plot? Maybe create a little walking path down to the court. They’ll have some privacy; you can’t even see the main house from back there because of the trees.”

“Roger,” she said, patiently, “we talked about you retiring from the tour. We did not discuss you bringing the tour home with you.”

“But what if they followed me home? I can’t just leave them out in the cold. Have some pity.”

A corner of Mirka’s lips curled up against her will. “No.”

Roger groaned dramatically. Mirka serenely deposited the fruit into the bowl.

“Fine,” he said, draping himself over her back and nuzzling her neck, his arms encircling her waist. “I’ll just have to sneak them in behind your back. Secretly put them up in the guest house. Slip out for midnight practice sessions while you sleep. Come back all sweaty with flimsy excuses.”

That got a derisive huff out of her. “If you can arrange a secret tennis affair behind my back, much less on our property without my knowing, I will be impressed.”

Roger conceded that she had a point.

----------------------------

Of course, Mirka wasn’t truly against the idea. If she really was, she would’ve made that clear right from the start. Roger knew from all these years that she liked to work through the logistics on her own first. He just needed to wait, and she would come back with a full 5-year plan.

“What about for their parent or coach? Not everyone wants to live with their team in the same house,” she said from the couch, laptop propped open on the arm.

“Two guest houses, then,” Roger replied easily as he scanned the live scores on his phone. “And their own pool.”

“Oh? You realize that they’re here to work, not for holiday.”

“True, but it’s nice to have a long soak after a hard day of playing tennis against the great Roger Federer, and I don’t want them to have to use our jacuzzi.”

That earned him a snort.

“So now we’re talking about two guest houses plus a building with a gym, a pool, and a jacuzzi for your prospective students.”

Roger hummed, distracted. Schwartzmann really did need to work on his serving.

“Maybe three guest houses—one for them, one for their trainers, and one for extras like parents or tutors,” he said.

“Uh huh. Anything else? No courtesy car? Cafeteria? Sauna?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to spoil them,” said Roger, judiciously.

Mirka laughed.

------------------

Planning and construction on the two guest buildings took about 18 months from start to finish, and then putting in all the furnishings and finishing touches took another 5 months. Roger started thinking about them as cottages instead of guest houses and the open area they clustered around as the village square. Over the course of the construction, he sometimes found himself telling the kids that he was “going down to the village” to check the progress.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you’re subconsciously trying to build your own mini Manacor here,” said Mirka one evening on the couch after dinner, after the dishes were put away and everyone had retired to the living room with various books, screens, or textbooks—in the case of the children—in hand.

Roger nearly choked on his coffee.

“Wh-what makes-you say that?” he wheezed, setting his mug down on the coffee table before he got hot liquid where hot liquid should not go.

Mirka considered her own coffee for a moment.

“Well, the guest houses are nearly ready to go, and yet you haven’t talked to me or Tony at all about who you’d want to be your first student. Normally you’d already have a vision for who you want to invite first, when to extend the invitation, how you’d want to go about the coaching, and all the other details.”

“That’s because the cottages weren’t done yet,” he replied, summoning his most reasonable tone, because that was an absolutely reasonable reason.

“And now they are,” Mirka returned evenly, “or they will be by the end of next week. Normally you would’ve been going on and on about this project during the whole construction. You should be so excited about it that I’d have to tell you to go pester Tony instead. Has something changed? The only thing I can think of is that you don’t want to have students here anymore. Which means you had another purpose in mind for those houses, or else you wouldn’t have built them.”

“No, no, I still want students in there.”

Mirka gave him a look that suggested he refrain from insulting her intelligence. “You’ve always had a very strict boundary between work and home. Tennis is your public life, and you never bring your work home with you. That’s why I was surprised when you first suggested inviting young players to stay at our home, but I figured it was worth giving a try, so I didn’t say anything at the time. I was surprised when you wanted to build a full tennis court in the back too. You’ve always practiced at the local courts, because of the separation between your tennis life and home life. Now, suddenly, after all these years, you want to bring work home with you? I don’t think you really wanted to build those guest houses for prospective students, Roger.”

“Maybe it’s for the girls,” he tried.

The truth was, Mirka was right, and it bothered him because he was always very intentional about his decisions. It was unlike him to commit to something without fully understanding his reasons. He thought this was what he had wanted. Now he realized that, while he had kept the needs of a professional tennis player in mind during the design and construction of the guest houses, he hadn’t envisioned what it would be like to have a student actually living there once construction was finished. And it was because he still thought of the guest houses as part of his home, which meant family and close friends, not prospective students and their teams, who would be like strangers.

So if the guest houses were for family and friends, who did he really build them for? There was a tiny, niggling feeling in the vicinity of his chest that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“The girls are getting older now,” he continued. “Someday soon they’ll need their own space, away from their uncool parents. This way they can at least be close by.”

Mirka rolled her eyes.

“I know the girls being 16 now is probably setting off all sorts of internal alarms, but you realize that just because you build houses for them doesn’t mean they’re not going to move out some day. You had already moved out by their age.”

“Yeah, and look how far that’s gotten me,” Roger said, gesturing at Robert reading a book on the other couch.

Robert very obviously ignored that with the wisdom of an experienced parent.

Mirka did too. She had over 24 years of experience pinning Roger down, figuratively and sometimes literally.

“If the houses aren’t for the kids when they grow up, then who are they for?”

Roger was quiet for a long while. He kept his eyes fixed in the distance and sipped his coffee. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft.

“Rafa is probably going to retire at the end of this year or next. He’s 39 now, you know.”

To some, it might seem like a non-sequitur, but Mirka knew instantly what he meant.

“Oh, Roger.”

She moved closer to him on the couch until they were leaning against each other, Mirka with her legs tucked up against his.

Roger sighed and leaned his head against hers.

“The first year is probably going to be fine for him,” he said. “He has the Academy, his foundation, the sponsors, his family. He’ll need at least the first year to decompress, just like I did. I think it’s the second or third year that might be hard for him. The tennis starts to fade because you’re not training as much. Because there’s no reason to.”

Mirka linked her arm with his and patted him comfortingly.

“He could use a friend and rival then,” she offered. “Someone on his level. The Academy kids are great, but it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, just like he already knew that the young players he thought about coaching would not be the same. “Maybe we don’t have to visit him all the time in Mallorca. He can come visit us as well, bring the family, bring the kids. Stay for a while in the summer when it’s nice here. He’ll like the lake and the hiking.”

“You miss him.”

“Yeah.”

Mirka curled against his shoulder.

“You know you love him,” she said softly.

“Yes, of course I love him,” Roger said easily.

Mirka slanted a look at him like she was questioning his intelligence. “Rogi, you know what I mean. You don’t just love him, you’re in love with him.”

“I—.” He paused, careful, unsure where this was going but sensing dangerous territory. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Mirka rolled her eyes. “Rogi, don’t—don’t lie to yourself.”

He turned to study her face, brows furrowed. “Why are you saying this?”

“Dad, we could see your star-crossed romance from our box the whole time,” Myla interjected from the study desk by the window.

“Everyone in the stadium saw it on the big screen at your retirement. The whole Internet saw it,” Lenny snorted, not looking up from his homework.

“You guys were not subtle,” Charlene sniffed with the supreme confidence of a teenage girl when it came to analyzing other people’s love lives.

“What? What are you guys talking about?” Roger said, looking between them, but it sounded unconvincing even to his ears.

“Don’t worry, he feels the same about you,” Charlene said. “I caught him checking out your ass like ten times last summer when we were in Manacor.”

“What?! Wait a minute. He was not—I don’t think he would—are you sure? You didn’t tell me about any of this.”

“Yes, I’m sure, yes it was gross cuz you’re my dad, and of course I didn’t tell you. He tried to play it off, but he totally was. Myla caught him too”—Myla shrugged when Roger glanced at her—“plus he bribed me with a family outing on his boat if I kept quiet and didn’t tell you.”

Roger remembered that boat outing. It had been a fantastic day, but that was beside the point. “And so you lied to me and kept this from your dad?”

“Yeah, but I at least told Mom.”

Roger turned toward Mirka, who shrugged. He turned back to his family, his face halfway between incredulity and indignation.

“Who else knows about this?”

Every single hand went up—both girls, the boys, Mirka, even his own mom and dad.

“Everyone on Uncle Rafa’s side knows too,” Leo added helpfully.

“So I’m the only one who didn’t know?”

Mirka patted his arm sympathetically. “It’s not your fault. You assume and easily accept that everyone likes you, but you’ve always had a hard time accepting when people love you.”

Roger stared at his family, who all stared back at him expectantly. Finally, he threw his hands up. “Well what am I supposed to do with this knowledge now?”

Myla shrugged. “I think this is the part where the music kicks in and you run into each other’s arms and start making out in the rain. But that’s, like, eww, cuz you guys are old.”

Roger looked from his kids to his parents to Mirka and wondered how this conversation got so far off the rails. “How are you guys not shocked or bothered by this?”

Lenny rolled his eyes. “Dad, we’ve been calling him ‘Uncle Rafa’ since we were little. I thought he actually was my uncle until I was 8. I think I was more surprised to learn he wasn’t actually related to us than I was when I saw found out you two had the hots for each other.”

Roger could feel his face turning red. “I do not have 'the hots’ for anyone.”

Now it was Charlene’s turn to roll her eyes. “Dad, please. My friends were texting me links to the Tennis Channel Valentine’s post of you and Uncle Rafa. Some of those photos were from back before I was even born.”

Roger turned to Mirka helplessly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mirka said, coming to the rescue. “Everyone back to their homework.”

#writing prompt #my writing #fedal #my fic

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rahleeyah · 3 years ago

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First of all I absolutely love all of your fics, you are so talented and your writing is inspiring. I'd like to know your perspective on this. When I read comments from people who don't ship EO and I respect them just to be clear, must of them say that their relationship is like brother and sister or that it's strictly platonic. And tough I can see certain elements of that on their interactions along the series at least for me is very clear that their love for each other is definitely more than that, it's straight up romantic. In my opinion we have seen those dinamics played out very clearly for Liv but not with Elliot.

For me the brother and sister thing the best example we have on that dinamic is on Fin and Liv. They have developed such a strong friendship but it's more than that, it's a true and unconditional loyalty. They don't open up so much to each other often but they know they are always there for the other, he is the only one who has never left and you can tell he is determined to be always by her side, to have her back. And it's true, Elliot once was that for her but the difference is that between El and Liv there was an undeniable attraction and chemistry, and Fin and Liv never had those feelings, it's straight up trust and he is the closest thing to a brother figure Liv has met. As far as the platonic love I think it was what she had with Rafael. They started working together and even with their differences they soon learned to respect each other, I think because they realized both of them would go to great meassures to get justice in their own way, Rafa had a more practical and cynic approach and Liv had that passionate drive and compassion but they were akin on that matter. Then they started to be closer, they developed a beautiful friendship, they admired each other, they were concerned for the other but there was some barrier on a way that they would not cross, specially Liv I think because she had experienced what It was like to have feelings for someone she could trust as much (Elliot) and she couldn't handle the eventual loss it would mean, so she rather remain friends. As for him, he did seem to have strong feelings for her and he basically said that to her when he was about to leave, maybe he never felt like he had a real chance with her or both of them kinda prefered to stick to a close friendship, afraid of ruining what they had. I do think they both had feelings for each other, not necessarily the kinda of attraction or magnetism she and Elliot had, but more out of absolute admiration and respect. If one or both would have dared at some point to try and make that relationship grow, I think it could have worked for them but it was not the case. The relationship where it was teased it could grow on to something more but eventually didn't happen was with Peter Stone. They did seemed to be attracted to each other, they had an intense dinamic, she let him be close to Noah which was huge for her and she comforted him when he lost his sister. Again when he left he admitted he had feelings for her, but that was it. And then there are the canon relationships she had with Cassidy and Tucker and they were both relevant for her in that time, she loved them but not in the way she loved El. As Brian said she would never bare her soul with him, neither with Ed even if it was as close as it gets, there's only someone who would be that person and that is Elliot.

The difference with Elliot is that between them there are all those elements combined and even more. They know each other, they complement what the other lacks, they share their passion, they are both caring, protective people who tend to put other's necessities before their own, they both had a troubled upbringing and they both have very strong morals, neither of them could bring themselves to do something that they think is not righteous, that's why they never closed that line. Their bond is stronger than the others, it's physical too but it runs much deeper than that, and that's why both chose the other when Gitano, and why even with a decade apart from each other that bond still remains, maybe not the same as before but they never could forget the other, never stopped feeling the way they felt at least not completely. That's why Elliot even if he left and broke her heart in the process is the only one who I could picture Liv having a real chance to find happiness, not because she needs someone, she can definitely stand by her own but because she deserves to be Loved, to be chosen and cared for, because in some years she will have to retire her job and Noah will grow up to have his own life, so Liv deserves to have her true love by her side when that happens.

I don't have a lot to add tbh I just want people to see your thoughts bc I love this breakdown of the different relationships

#ask

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 4

A/N: He’s here! Now done with the prologue, Barba has finally made it to the story haha. This is a long chapter, but it’s also a lot of exposition since it takes place 3 years after chapter 3. That’s right, this chapter takes place in season 15, right after Cragen retires. Gonna say now that I tried to keep the timeline of the show as close as I could, but I have taken some liberties (for example, Cragen leaving to Lewis dying is apparently 4 months, which is insanely short). Also, yes, Amaro should be on desk duty at this time, but with a threat on Olivia’s life, she’s not gonna be left alone.

Also, now that this story is in the “present” tense, and with both Devon and Barba, the narrative will switch between the two’s pov. It’s mostly Devon’s, but you do get Barba’s insight, as well

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: mentions of rape, mentions of trafficking, alcohol/drinking, knives, guns

Words: 12k+

Courthouse

Wednesday, January 26th. 4:36pm

“We find the defendant guilty,” the juror said before taking their seat. The judge thanked the jury for their services and dismissed the court. On the outside, Rafael Barba showed no emotions aside from a small smirk—ever the smug counselor—and simply gathered his papers, put them in his case, and latched it. On the inside, however, he was many things; relieved, happy, and yes, maybe a little smug. Yet a nagging part of his mind was nervous, if not a little afraid; something he wasn’t quite used to feeling, especially after securing a guilty verdict. Sure, he got the conviction on a top-ranking gang member—one Jorge Ramirez--who was just sent to jail for the rest of his mortal life for trafficking, rape, and murder. But Barba knew that this may put a target on his back in retaliation from Ramirez’s gang…not that he hadn’t dealt with some sort of threats in the past. But this time, his instinct was telling him something was off. He pushed the feeling down, grabbed his case while receiving a very nasty glare from Ramirez as he was pulled away, then turned to see Sergeant Benson and all of the other SVU detectives giving him broad grins or congratulations.

“Guilty on all counts. Nice, Rafael,” Liv said with a pat on his shoulder.

“Let’s hope we can round up the rest of his posse,” Barba replied. “Drinks?”

Flanagan’s Bar

Wednesday, January 26th. 5:06pm

They all agreed that a celebration drink was in order—this had been a rough case all around--and made their way from the courthouse to the cop bar down the street. None of the party were particularly heavy drinkers, but Barba knew that he wanted to leave his mind for a little bit tonight; this wasn’t his first hard case that he had dealt with recently. That being said, Fin only stayed for one drink, saying he had other things to do tonight. Rollins had a couple drinks, then bowed out herself. Amaro mentioned something about facetiming his daughter before she went to bed and headed out shortly after, leaving Liv and Barba alone. They moved from the big, party table to the stools at the bar, chatting idly about the case, then about life; the norm when they were alone together. Barba never admitted it aloud, but he loved their friendship; Liv was smart, strong, and, most importantly, put up with his shit. What they had wasn’t romantic by any standard; it was fully platonic, and they both knew it, regardless of what rumors flew about. But they both cared for each other in a way that was…different from anyone else. These types of relationships seemed to flock to Liv, seeing as she had a team that she worked with daily and trusted with her life. But Barba? Well, he had a couple childhood friends that he’d see around town, though after the business with Muñoz, those friends were fewer and farther in between. Then there was his secretary, Carmen, and a few acquaintances at work—none of these people were actual friends he saw outside of work, besides at the occasional suit and tie benefit dinners his office forced him to attend. Sure, he was friendly…sometimes…with them, and with the SVU detectives, but nothing that was substantial outside of Liv.

“You need a ride home tonight, Rafa?” Olivia asked after she finished her glass of wine. Barba took a look at his scotch; it wasn’t low enough to shoot it back quite yet. And he didn’t want to make Liv wait for him.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I can catch a cab tonight,” he replied with a half-smile. Olivia gave him a look like she knew exactly what he was thinking, feeling. But she decided not to comment on it. She knew he could take care of himself.

“Good night, then. Good win today,” she smiled at him as she stood, putting her jacket on.

“Sleep well,” he replied, returning her smile, before taking a sip of his drink.

Liv grinned. “Oh, I will, knowing that we finally put Ramirez behind bars.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, gave him a light squeeze, then headed out into the cold evening. Barba sighed and checked his watch, 9:07pm, later than he thought. He was usually in bed pretty early after a big win, since he normally had to stay up late the previous week preparing. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he couldn’t stop the picture of his quiet loft from flashing across his mind, nor the sudden feeling of loneliness—something that he hasn’t felt in a while. Sure, he has been alone for a long time now, but that never bothered him…much. The truth is, he was usually too busy to really dwell on the fact that his bed, his home, his life, has been empty outside of himself. Plus, the scandal with Alex, Eddy, and Yelina happened only a few, short months ago. And Barba still couldn’t understand how Alex could be doing things like…that…when he got to come home to Yelina at night. YELINA. She was smart, attractive, strong…. Oh, the alcohol was definitely affecting his mood. He’d finish this drink, then head home, end this self-pity spree.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a soft voice asked to his left.

Barba jumped; sucked into his thoughts, he didn’t hear anyone approaching him. “N-no, uh, help yourself,” he replied, turning his head slightly, but not really looking at the person. He heard the stool pull out and the person—a woman, he realized—sat down next to him.

“Whiskey and coke, please,” she ordered. The bartender nodded and went off to make her drink. There was silence, but Barba could feel her gaze on him. His heart was still racing from her surprise appearance, but now he felt his face heating slightly from her stare. “My name’s Devon, by the way.”

“Rafael.” This time, he turned and gave her a somewhat forced smile. He felt his face turn fully red as he looked her up and down, too dumbstruck to even try and hide it. Devon was, well, beautiful. She had long, brown hair cascading down her back in waves, a plain, black v-neck that hugged her curves, navy jeans, and a heavy black trench coat that she had opened once inside the heat of the bar. The simplicity of her outfit did nothing to diminish her natural beauty, and Barba didn’t really care that he was caught staring. She smiled back at him playfully, knowing full well that she had him on the ropes. Now, Barba knew that the alcohol was definitely guiding his thoughts. Maybe his bed wouldn’t be so lonely with her in it. He squashed down the thought as quickly as it appeared; he was not that type of guy. He did not just pick up random women in a bar. No more scotch for a while.

“You alright there, Rafael?” she asked slowly, letting his name dance across her tongue. His attention snapped back to the bar; at some point, the bartender had given her her drink, and he realized that he had been staring at her, mouth slightly open.

“Yeah, sorry. Just had a long day at work,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink. It was low enough now that he could easily pound it and leave if things got any more awkward. He was heavily debating it, debating just getting the hell out of there before either of them made a move.

She nodded, taking a long pull off of her drink, killing half of it in one sip. She swallowed hard, then said, “I know all about long days.” She sat for a second, eyes unfocused, staring at something only she could see. She shook herself, smiling a bit at whatever thought she had before focusing her brown eyes back on his green ones. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Barba thought for what seemed like a long time, at least to him. On one hand, it would be nice to unload some stress onto a stranger. But on the other hand, he was a pretty private man; he didn’t like discussing cases or work with others, especially such a nasty one. Ramirez was one of the worst he’d seen and…wait a minute. It hit him then and he gave the woman a sideways glance; who was this woman? Why did she suddenly appear when he was alone, drinking, and asking him personal questions? Did…did she possibly work for Ramirez? Was she here to threaten him, hurt him…kill him?

Barba pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the blank screen. “Actually,” he started, slamming his drink, “I just got a call I have to take. It was nice meeting you.” He reached into his wallet, grabbed more than enough for his drinks, and dropped the money onto the counter. He didn’t carry any weapons, and he wasn’t much of a fighter. So, he kept his phone in his hand as he gathered his things. He had Liv’s number pulled up so that he could call her if anything happened; it was the only plan he could think of. He gave Devon—if that was her real name—a tight smile before turning and rushing to the door. Just find a cab, just find a cab, he thought. He figured that if there wasn’t one right outside the bar, then he only had to make it the two blocks to the courthouse to find one. There were always taxis on the main roads, and he was hoping that he could outrun the woman, even in his expensive court suit and dress shoes.

He made it outside and took a deep breath. The cold air stung his lungs, but he was used to New York’s frigid nights; it brought his mind back, sobering him up. There were no taxis in sight, so he quickly started to make his way to the main road. He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but he waved it off as being paranoid; no one was after him, surely. This was all an illusion, brought on by stress and adrenaline. But as he passed a dimly lit alley, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was spun around, then felt a hard hit to his cheek. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even catch a glimpse of who hit him, let alone know what hit him. He stumbled backwards towards the alley, dropping his case and his phone. Pure fear rushed through him, and he threw up his arms in a defensive position.

Flanagan’s Bar

Wednesday, January 26th. 9:45pm

Devon waited to make sure that she was right. She watched the man—Rafael—make his hasty exit, then looked over at the two men who were sitting a little way away from her. Just as she thought, they got up, and started to follow Rafael out. She let out a sigh.

As soon as she had come into the bar, she noticed the tension in the room. Those two men, both Hispanic and wearing similar outfits, had been watching Rafael with such disdain that she knew they were there for him. By the look of the two, they were probably apart of the same gang. And by the look of the suit and the scotch that the man at the bar was drinking, he probably worked for the government. Seeing as this was a notorious cop bar, and that two gang members decided to actually stake someone out in it, Devon put her money on police commissioner, or lawyer. Of course, this happens the first night out after a three-year stint in undercover. And of course, there were no cops in sight. In a fucking cop bar. She just wanted to decompress, have a drink and just relax; she may have been back for a week, but she was just finally feeling up for hitting the town again. Though, she did enjoy the short conversation she had with the flustered, yet handsome, man at the bar. If the circumstances were just a little different, a little simpler, maybe they could have helped each other relax. Oh well. Still a chance for that, Devon thought, ignoring the fact that he seemed to freak out, citing a fake phone call to leave abruptly.

She waited for the two men to stand and head towards the door before she, too, stood, pulling out some crumpled bills and paid for her half-drunk drink. By the time she left the bar, the two men were hot on Rafael’s heels, though he didn’t seem to notice—there was a thin layer of snow on the ground that muffled their footsteps slightly. She realized that there was no time to warn him, so she took off after them instead, careful to not slip on the icy ground, silently thankful that she wore her snow boots. She opened her mouth to yell a warning anyways but was too late; the taller of the men grabbed Rafael by the shoulder, turned him, and punched him in the face. Rafael stumbled to the side, into a dark alley, dropping his attaché and phone as he struggled to stay on his feet.

What is this, a tv show? Devon thought. The two men had followed him into the alley by the time Devon caught up with them. Rafael had his arms up in a mock defense position—in reality, he wouldn’t stop a toddler from punching him--and the two men were descending upon him quickly.

“Hey, mind if I join in?” Devon called in a loud voice. Look at me, she practically screamed. The two men whipped around; the one who had not hit Rafael had a pocketknife gripped in his hand. Seeing as he had a weapon, and was closest to Devon, she set her attention on him. He lunged sloppily towards her with the knife—has this guy even held a knife before?—which she easily blocked. She grabbed his wrist and slammed it against one of the brick alley walls, forcing him to drop the knife. She then brought her knee up into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Using his forward momentum, she punched him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. He fell onto his back, gasping for air. The other man looked to his prone buddy at his feet, then back to Devon, but it was too late; he had left himself open by hesitating. She kicked him in his ribs, sending him into a wall. Then she grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he wasn’t getting back up.

Rafael stood in disbelief, mouth hanging open, dropping his arms to his sides, and looked at the bodies around him, then at Devon. “You alright?” she asked, pulling her coat tightly around her in the cold.

“Y-yeah,” he replied. “Just…just a long day.”

Devon chuckled, then led him out of the alleyway and over to his fallen attaché and phone. She picked them up and handed them to him. “I’m serious, though. Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Or call someone for you?” She grabbed his chin, examining his cheek in the light of the streetlamp.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He pulled out of her grip, cheeks red not entirely from the cold, and looked back to the alley. He ignored the jolt of electricity he felt from the soft touch of her skin. “Should we call an ambulance for them, though? You went a little hard on them.”

“Hard on them? They attacked you, screw them,” she replied, then saw the alarm in his eyes. Right, most people would call for help, even if they attacked him first. “Oh, they’ll be fine. If anything, I should call the cops and have them arrested.” When Rafael didn’t respond, she asked, “why were those guys after you, anyways?”

Devon could see him thinking through his answer carefully. “I think it may be work related,” he finally said.

She didn’t push it; she doubted he’d elaborate anyways. “At least let me walk you to somewhere safer than here.” Rafael didn’t want to voice his objections from the bar, especially after the display in the alley, and so they made their way to the main street, Devon walking a little too close to him. To protect him, she told herself, ignoring the side of her that remarked how attractive this man was. Her heart was still beating fast, though from the fight or from examining his face in the light, she wasn’t sure. She thought about giving him her card with her number on it…for protection…but realized she hadn’t restocked her pockets with them since coming back to New York. Oh well…. Once on the main street, Rafael hailed a cab, and Devon didn’t leave until he had gotten in, thanked her awkwardly, and then disappeared down the street. God, I missed this city, Devon thought. Wish I got in that cab with him, though. Now alone, she headed back to that alley to see if she couldn’t get some answers from the two hitmen. Though, by the time she made it back to the alley, the men were gone, the only sign of them was their footprints all over each other in their scramble to run.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Wednesday, January 26th. 10:37pm

“I’m telling you, they were working for Ramirez. Probably some low-level Aces,” Barba said into his phone. He made it into his loft, had locked the door, and instantly called Olivia. Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew the expression Liv had; worry, concern, and yet hard determination, her Sergeant side taking over.

“I’ll put an unmarked on your block tonight. We may be stretched a little thin here, but I can give you Amaro or Rollins tomorrow morning, then have them switch shifts at lunch,” Liv replied.

“I’ll take the car tonight, though I doubt they will strike again so soon. And I should be safe at the office and courthouse; too many witnesses.” Barba moved to his freezer, taking an ice pack out. His cheek was killing him, and he winced when he put the cold plastic on it. He slowly made his way to the hallway bathroom to examine himself. I can’t believe I got sucker punched….

“I can have a detective escort you to and from work, keep the uni’s there at night.”

Liv always had an answer for everything. But Barba was never a man to live in fear; he figured that he could simply carry pepper spray or a stun gun and be fine. Now that he knew the Aces were after him, he wouldn’t get jumped again. Plus, Olivia was going to have every precinct after this gang; they’d be rounded up in no time. “I’ll be fine, Liv.”

He could hear her winding up for an argument, one he was determined not to lose. Perhaps sensing this, Liv blew out a long breath. “I’ll have Amaro there, first thing in the morning. Please, for my sake, take the ride.”

Barba sighed. “Fine, but I don’t need a babysitter while at work.” She reluctantly agreed—he had a point about too many witnesses--then said her goodbyes before hanging up. Barba looked into the mirror in his bathroom, gently fingering the bruised skin under his right eye. There was no covering it—he didn’t know how anyways—so that would be some awkward conversations tomorrow. Hopefully he could glare hard enough that no one would ask. He put the icepack back on the spot, wincing again at the pain. He had no idea how he was going to sleep tonight. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, especially after recounting the event to Liv. He also wished that he had thanked Devon more—she may not have realized it, but she most likely just saved his life. But one question kept coming back, swimming through the thoughts racing through his mind: who was that woman?

Apartment of Devon Motely

Thursday, January 27th. 7:08am

Devon woke up after a much-needed deep sleep, one she hadn’t had for years. There was nothing quite like sleeping in your own bed to make you feel refreshed. She had been out-of-state for three years, in the life of a made-up woman, in a house that was not hers, talking to people she didn’t know. And while the FBI had people come in a day before she was home, to clean all the dust off the furniture and wash the sheets, it was still weird to be somewhere “new.” There was a peacefulness she gained from being in her home—not just an apartment, but home—but it was still a little jarring coming back to reality. Not to mention the three-hour time difference between here in New York, and where she had been in California. Her sleep schedule in California wasn’t normal, but it made NYC seem a little better; waking up at 7am meant she was a go-getter…just ignore the fact that a week ago, that was 4am. She has spent the whole week home attempting to stay awake later, but it wasn’t happening; she slept when it was dark out, and with the city’s tall buildings, nighttime was earlier than that of the sunny West Coast.

Devon had already spent a couple months with the Fed’s shrink, both in the California branch and her home doctor, and was cleared to work. But her boss knew better, giving her three more months to decompress and return to normal. Not that she was complaining; she had never been undercover for that long before, and it took a bigger toll on her than she thought it would. The hardest part about getting back to normal was picking up her gym routine again; the first day was hell. She wasn’t out-of-shape, but she was definitely out of gym shape. And at first, she was happy when the first day was over, the burn a reminder of where she could grow. That happiness disappeared on the second day of gym. After this week, though, Devon was glad to find her body getting back into the motion of things.

After a long shower, she made her way to her closet. Even after a week of being back, she was still excited to put on some of her own clothes again; her last alias had a decent sense of style but was definitely not her. The college student’s style was oversized hoodies, too-tight shirts, and skinny jeans, while the Madam’s style was skimpy dresses and heavy makeup. Devon’s style, however, was practical; you never know when you may have to kick some ass—as evident with the events from the night before--or deal with a hostage situation. She almost always wore loose-fitting jeans, strong but mobile, and plain, scoop-neck shirts that fit perfectly; low enough to show a hint of cleavage--if only she had a dollar for every perp that hesitated from such a small distraction as a hint of skin--but comfortable enough to run, jump, climb, or whatever else her job required of her. She knew that she fit society’s standards of beauty, but as long as that was true, then it was a weapon she could use to her advantage.

While happy for her own home and clothes, nothing made her more excited than having her personal phone back. She couldn’t risk taking it with her last case—she was given a cell phone for her cover--so she had left it behind. But when she had come back from her trip, she found that couldn’t turn it back on. After a day of fidgeting with it, she had no other choice than to ask for help. Because it had sensitive information on it, she could only ask the FBI techs to fix it for her, something that was not high on the list of priorities for them. She only picked it up last night, after the bar fight—alley fight?—and was too tired to bother with it. Now, she held the power button, smiling as the screen turned on. It wasn’t like she was expecting much in terms of texts or calls; she only had a couple friends, friends who had known she was going undercover, but she wanted to meet up with them immediately to catch up, maybe even warn them about the man who was jumped last night. Even though her boss, Assistant Director Thomas Jenkins, gave her time off, she knew that 1) her boredom would quickly take over and 2) she’d get dragged into something anyways. She always did, especially with her friends being SVU detectives.

Her phone finally loaded, and she noticed that she had two unread texts. Curious, she clicked on them. They were both from the same person; Detective Olivia Benson. She opened them, read them, then sat for a moment, trying to figure out her emotions.

Happy Birthday! sent January 1, 2011 12:00am

I know you’re undercover and won’t see this until much later, but I wish you were here right now. I really need to talk to you. Elliot is gone. sent August 26, 2011 3:08am

The first text pulled on Devon’s heartstrings; she had forgotten how a simple birthday message could make her feel cared about—it was a rare enough occurrence. But that second message made her feel such a heavy amount of confusion, guilt, and sadness. She wasn’t here for her best friend when she needed her most, whether undercover or not. If she had known, she would have called instantly. And what did she mean Elliot is gone? Did he retire? Did he finally transfer out of SVU? Or was it worse; was he killed on the job? Devon clicked the dial button, determined to talk to Liv.

The phone only rang once. “Dev? Is that really you?” was Olivia’s greeting, her voice surprised and hopeful.

“Hey Olivia. Yeah, it’s me. I’m back in town. Can we meet up?” Devon thought it better to talk in person about this, seeing as the text was from over two years ago, barely a year into her UC case.

“Of course. Why don’t you come down to the precinct?”

“I’ll be there in 10,” Devon replied. She hung up and looked around her room. She had a grip that she tended to keep stocked with clothes and essentials, just in case. After waffling about it, she decided to take it with her—if Stabler really was killed, she’d make sure the bastard paid, if Liv hadn’t beaten her to it. She had packed it the day after arriving home, so it was ready to go except for one thing. She grabbed her work laptop and charger, and threw them in the grip before zipping it closed. Last but not least, she grabbed her badge, gun, and her throwing knife that she strapped to the outside of her left thigh—ol’ reliable, as she liked to call it.

SVU Department

Thursday, January 27th. 9:30am

As predicted, it took Devon 9 minutes to get to the 16th precinct, and another minute to make it to SVU. The officers gave her alarmed looks when they saw her with her bulging grip thrown over her shoulder. She flashed her badge but was still shocked when no one attempted to apprehend her; she didn’t recognize any of the officers, but maybe Olivia gave them a head’s up. She took a breath once in the SVU precinct, her shoulders relaxing—a second home when she was in New York. She looked to Liv’s desk, but noticed a man with dark hair sitting there. Noticing her stare, he looked up.

“May I help you?” he asked. Instead of answering, Devon looked at the desk that should’ve been Stabler’s, but saw that it was empty, leaving a heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Now feeling unsettled, she looked to Munch’s desk but saw a blonde woman giving Devon an equally confused look. She vaguely noticed the man reaching for his gun.

“Holy shit, Devon?” a familiar voice said. Devon turned to see Fin coming from the coffeemaker, cup in hand.

Devon felt the tension melt away. “Wow, Fin. I leave for three years and you guys change the whole force?”

He pulled her in for an awkward, half-hug, shocking the other detectives, and said, “it is good to see you, Dev. I thought we may have lost another one.”

By this time, the not-Stabler and not-Munch came over. “Uh, I’m Detective Nick Amaro, and this is Detective Amanda Rollins,” the man said, extending his hand.

Devon shook both of their hands. “I’m Senior Special Agent Devon Motely,”—she saw Fin’s eyebrows raise at the new title—"and as fun as it is to catch up and meet new people, I’m actually here to see Detective Benson.”

“You mean Sergeant Benson,” Fin corrected.

“Sergeant? Now this I gotta see,” Devon said, smiling broadly.

As if on cue, Olivia Benson came out of the captain’s office. “Devon Motely. It is so good to see you.”

Devon pulled away from the other detectives and made her way to Olivia. She gave her a big hug, saying “it’s good to see you, too. Can we talk in private?” Devon could still feel the other detective’s gazes on her back, hear their murmuring.

“Of course,” Liv said. But instead of going to one of the interrogation rooms, as per usual, she led Devon into the office. Devon saw that the décor had changed since the last time she was there, but the biggest change was that the plaque on the desk didn’t say Captain Cragen, but instead read Sgt. Olivia Benson.

“Cragen is gone, too? This is your office?” Devon blurted out. Olivia closed the door behind her, then went to sit behind the desk, motioning Devon to sit across from her.

“Cragen is gone,” she confirmed. “And Munch, and Elliot, too.” She then spent the next hour detailing everything that had happened to the three officers. Devon was relieved to hear that all were still alive, just retired. Again, she felt a pang of guilt and wished that she was there to help them through all the craziness that Olivia outlined. Though she was an FBI agent, Devon had a soft spot for the SVU team; she helped them whenever she could with things that were too…much for the four detectives and captain. Then, Liv started on what she had been going through, recounting her troubles with William Lewis, her relationship with detective Cassidy, their bad luck with ADA’s—“though, we have a good one, now. Hopefully he stays on”—and ended on a short, but informative, description of both of the new detectives.

Devon listened intently, and once she was done talking, she sat in silence for a moment, taking everything in. Her guilt was mounting new heights; while she was fucking around in California, her best friend was going through some of the worst experiences of her life. Then, she asked in a low voice, “do you want me to deal with Lewis?”

Olivia caught her meaning, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s fine. He’s not an issue anymore; he’ll be in jail for life.”

Devon nodded. “That just makes it easier to get rid of him. If you ever want me to, I want to be your first call.”

Ignoring what Devon just implied, Liv changed the subject. “So, tell me about your adventures in San Francisco.” Devon’s demeanor changed from plotting murder to one of exhaustion. She let out a sigh, then recounted her three-year UC case in California. She had been posing as a college student by day, and a Madam at night. She worked her way through parties meeting girls, then pimps, then finally, the pimp’s bosses. She felt terrible about the things she had to do; selling girls, drugs, and much worse. She was happy to be back here, where she didn’t have to fake having an interest in those types of things, where she could just arrest the bastards instead of joining them.

“So, when I turned on my phone today, I saw your text. I know that it was from a while ago, and that you are probably over it by now, but I thought I’d still check in on you,” Devon concluded. In her retelling of the last three years, she had completely forgotten about the attractive man in a suit at the bar the night before.

A wave of emotions flashed through Olivia’s eyes, though she kept her face mostly neutral. “You know, I felt terrible about sending that text to you. I knew you didn’t have your phone, and in a moment of—of emotional weakness, I sent it. And it’s not fair to you that I did that. But at the time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you were able to see it and talk to me, to help me through that time. To let me vent and talk, even if you couldn’t reply, but just to have someone listen.” Olivia had tears in her eyes, which she quickly blinked away. “I also meant to text you again, but any time I opened our conversation, I would see that last message I sent. And I’d feel the guilt all over again.”

Feeling emotional herself, Devon replied, “I’m not mad or upset; I get it Liv, I really do.” Devon put her hands on the desk, palms up. Olivia placed her hands gently into Devon’s, and the agent started rubbing comforting circles into the back of Liv’s hands with her thumbs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most. It must have been so, so hard for you to lose Stabler after so long. Do you keep in touch with him at all?”

Liv shook her head. “No, no. In the beginning, I thought about it. At night, when I couldn’t sleep, or when a nightmare would rip me awake before dawn. But I knew that it was for the best, for both of us, to just…cut all ties to him.”

Devon let the silence drag on for a little, continuing to rub little circles in the Sergeant’s skin, letting the conversation rest. “Well, I’m back for the foreseeable future. And I got promoted. And my boss even gave me three months off, if you can believe that!” she let out a laugh, trying to break the tension. They released each other’s hands, the moment over. “Plus, look at you! A Sergeant, and in the big boss’s office, no less.”

Liv smiled and opened her mouth to answer, when her phone lit up, vibrating on her desk. “Benson,” she answered, holding up a finger to Devon. Devon waited patiently while whoever was on the other line talked her ear off. “What? When?” Liv waited a second, “okay, I’ll be right there. I think I have someone that you should meet,” her eyes locked with Devon’s, “just stay there.” With that, she hung up, rubbed her temples for a moment, then got up and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair.

Devon stood up quickly. “What happened? Everything okay?”

“Uh, about that time off that your boss gave you—”

Devon cut her off, “what do you need me for?” Devon was nothing if not loyal.

Olivia smirked. “How about a 24/7 protection detail, overseeing a sarcastic, pain-in-the-ass that we lovingly call our ADA?”

Devon had a rush of thoughts in the matter of seconds—spending 24/7 with someone she didn’t know, on alert at all waking hours, her exhaustion since just getting home, plus Olivia’s description of the victim—but she still said, “whatever you need.” She was glad to help Liv, especially to make up for the past three years, whether Liv thought Devon needed to make up for lost time or not. And with the sudden rush of adrenaline, she could feel her exhaustion ebbing away. Plus, what else were friends for?

“Thank you so much. Come on, I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Courthouse

Thursday, January 27th. 11:16am

As Olivia, Devon, and Detective Amaro, who was grabbed on the way out, pulled up to the courthouse, Devon summarized the conversation of the car ride. “So, let me get this straight; you and Rollins took down a gang leader, with this ADA Barba, pushing him into jail for life, and now the gang has a target on all of your backs? No offense, but why not just let me take down the gang instead of posting me up with an attorney?” She grabbed her grip out of the trunk and followed Liv and Amaro to the stairs.

Liv scoffed. “Because Barba was attacked in a crowded courthouse, with unis posted at every door, and yet someone was able to sneak in, armed with a pistol, and take aim at our ADA.” Liv saw that Devon was gearing up to argue more, but she cut her off, “look, we’re all covered at SVU; we already have leads on some of the big hitters in the Aces. And it would really help if I had someone that I could trust watching Barba so that I, or any of the other detectives, don’t have to.” She had a point, so Devon kept her mouth shut. Olivia wasn’t one to suggest things of importance without a reason.

They made their way up the stairs, past the cops that were mulling around, talking about whatever they were talking about, and into the courthouse. The crime scene wasn’t hard to find; it was roped off with caution tape and there were cops everywhere. Devon looked at the wall next to where they were congregating and saw two bullet holes in the concrete. She noticed a couple things at once; no blood, no EMTs, no CSU, which all adds up to no victim. Good, the perp missed his target—no doubt this ADA Barba that Liv was having Devon watch. Devon knew that he was alive—Olivia wouldn’t have brought her to watch him if he wasn’t here—but no one else was injured, either.

“What happened here?” Amaro asked an officer. He gave him a rundown of the facts; a young, white man walked towards Barba while he was on his way to court. He reached into his pocket; unis saw him as he raised the gun. One cop yelled a warning, tackling Barba out of the way, while the other cop on the door took down the man. He got two shots off but missed his mark, striking the wall. The cops arrested him and escorted Barba to his office down the street to await Liv’s arrival after he was cleared from EMTs; no injuries besides a bruised ego.

Gaining all the information they needed, Devon followed the sergeant and detective out, then down the street to 1 Hogan Place. Once inside the DA’s building, they made their way to the elevator. As the doors closed, Devon asked Liv, “hey, are you and Rollins safe? Are you sure there’s not a hit out on you, too?”

“Neither of us have been alone since Barba was attacked earlier. We’re not taking any chances on this one. This is why I need someone I can trust watching Barba; I can’t spare any manpower on it, and god knows we don’t need the Feds tied up in this.” Well, that explained Amaro hovering over Liv’s shoulder, like a bodyguard.

Devon sighed, “yeah, I hear you. But I want to be kept in the loop; names, faces, tattoos, anything and everything. I want to be able to pick out one of these jerks before they have a shot at Barba.”

“Of course,” Liv replied. The elevator doors opened, and they briskly walked to Barba’s office. There were four cops posted outside the door, which was shut. Liv nodded first to the frazzled-looking paralegal seated at her desk, then to the officers, and they moved to allow the three of them in.

“Barba, are you alright?” Liv asked when she saw him, pacing in front of his desk restlessly.

“I’m fine. But I want that bastard arraigned today, and then I have a case that I��m late for already, but these idiots aren’t letting me leave. I need to—” Barba’s outburst was cut short when he saw Devon, who also froze.

Following his line of sight, Liv said, “right, ADA Rafael Barba, this is Senior Special Agent Devon Motely. Devon, this is Barba.”

Barba swallowed past the lump in his throat, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, we’ve met before,” he said, eyes never leaving Devon’s.

It was Amaro’s turn to speak. He grinned in disbelief, “what? When?”

“Last night. In a dingy bar and then again in a dark alley,” Devon answered, making Amaro’s eyebrows raise. If she wasn’t still in such shock, she would’ve shot him a glare.

Liv’s eyes widened. “You’re the one that stopped those men from assaulting Barba? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“One, I didn’t know that was the ‘earlier attack’ you mentioned until just now. And two, he introduced himself as Rafael. I didn’t know his last name or his profession,” Devon explained, before muttering, “glad to see I was already doing this job before I knew it.”

Barba took this time to mentally collect himself, finally ripping his eyes away from the agent and furrowing his brow at Olivia. “Job, what job?”

Liv looked back to him. “Look Barba, I know that last night, you denied having protection. But after this, you need to have someone watching your back.”

“No, I don’t need a babysitter watching me, especially FBI. Why are the Feds even getting involved—”

“Barba look around! You were almost shot outside of a courtroom. You got lucky that he missed. You are going to have protection until this is over,” Olivia ordered.

Barba scoffed. “Over? Do you think that this is just going to go away in a day or two? That if you arrest one or two of these bastards that they’ll back off? I’m not living in fear, Olivia.”

“I know, I know,” Liv adopted her calm, quiet voice that she used with victims, “but I’m not letting you get killed over this. Devon is good; she’s willing to stay for the long haul.”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here, please?” Devon piped in. Barba rolled his eyes and plopped down behind his desk, running his hands through his hair roughly, while Liv huffed out a heavy sigh and Amaro stood to the side awkwardly, watching this all play out. “Look, I may just be the ‘babysitter,’ but I’m not working as FBI for this. This is a favor for Liv. Besides, I’ve done this before. Barba, you have nothing to worry about; I’ll be a shadow. You don’t need to talk to me, you don’t need to look at me, you don’t even need to acknowledge that I’m there. I’ll just be your bodyguard.”

“I. Don’t. Need. A bodyguard,” he said through gritted teeth. He slammed his hands down on his desk in frustration, exhaling through flared nostrils.

Liv and Devon exchanged a look. Liv nodded. Perfect, play hardball, Devon’s favorite.

“Fine, I’ll say this in terms you will understand, counselor. As Sergeant Benson said, I am good; you saw that last night. So, whether you like it or not, you will be under my protection until Sergeant Benson says otherwise. You may try, but you will not be able to lose me. I’m going to stay on you, make sure you are protected from all attacks, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Barba opened his mouth, but Devon pressed on, “now, you can make this easier on yourself. Allow me to do my job, allow me to help you, and I will be as I said before, a shadow. Or fight me on this, and I’ll be the biggest thorn in your side. It’s up to you, Mr. Barba.”

Barba gave an impressive glare, aimed at Liv before turning those bright green eyes onto Devon. He seemed to be working through his thoughts, debating on if this fight was worth it. Apparently, it wasn’t, because he huffed angrily and spat out, “fine. But as soon as this is over, I better never see you again.”

“Deal,” Devon said, smirking.

Liv grinned, looking slightly amused, glancing at the both of them. “Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of. Keep me updated.” Still sporting matching smirks, Amaro and Olivia turned to leave, the latter shooting Devon an apologetic smile. Thanks, Liv, she thought ruefully, wondering if she bit off more than she could chew this time.

Once alone, Devon looked at Barba, who had his head in his hands. “Would you like me to sit across from you, or against the wall behind you?”

Barba didn’t even look up from his desk that he was currently staring a hole through. “I thought I didn’t have to talk to you?”

“And I thought you had a court appointment?” She shot back, shrugging out of her jacket easily, tossing it to the couch, making herself at home.

Barba looked up then. He looked at Devon, really looked, as if he hadn’t seen her yet. She was just as beautiful as she was last night; she was tall, fit, well dressed. In the light of day, he could see the corded muscle in her arms and neck. But her image was tainted in his mind now; he didn’t want someone having to watch his back, even if it was a logical move, something he wouldn’t admit. He knew that Liv had his best interests in mind, and he did feel slightly safer having an FBI agent assigned to him, not that he would admit it out loud. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman had somehow betrayed him. Even if she had saved him the night before, these attacks didn’t happen until she showed up into his life. Which wasn’t fair to her—it was because of the Aces and Ramirez, Barba knew—but he couldn’t separate the events in his mind.

“I got a text from the judge during your…speech. It got pushed to tomorrow, 9am.”

Devon thought for a moment before asking, “do you have any more court appearances today? Or any meetings?”

“No. I plan on being here in my office the rest of the day, prepping the four cases I now have tomorrow.” With that, Barba pulled out some paperwork and a couple of law books. Taking the hint that the conversation was over, Devon pulled one of the chairs from in front of his desk and pushed it to the side of his desk, enough space between it and the desk that she’d be directly in Barba’s blind spot. Before sitting, however, she walked over to the windows and pulled down the blinds, making the office a bit darker, but making it so no one could look in—even though they weren’t on the ground level, Devon didn’t want any unwanted attention from surrounding buildings. She looked at the closed door, seeing that the unis from earlier were still posted outside; four of them, two on each side. She wondered how long they’d stay before they made excuses to leave. Satisfied, she walked back to the chair she had moved and took a seat.

Devon looked sideways at Barba, trying to figure him out; he seemed like just a normal dude last night, albeit a little awkward, flustered even. A normal dude in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. He had an explosive anger—though that was a pretty normal reaction that people had when they had a bodyguard forced onto them, let alone a couple attempts on their life—but going by the fight, or lack thereof, he was all bark and no bite. But she couldn’t be sure of that, either. She had met previous ADAs that worked with SVU. And while Devon wouldn’t exactly call them fighters in the physical sense, they did know their way around a courtroom. And if Olivia liked him, then she was sure that Barba probably wasn’t that bad of a guy…and he also probably knew how to win convictions as well.

Devon then wondered how she had gotten here. Two weeks ago, she was in California; she was working as a madam, working her way through the ranks up a huge sex trafficking ring. Two weeks ago, she was pinning down a high-ranking trafficker, one in charge of bringing in all the girls for eight different brothels. Two weeks ago, the madam was arrested, as was almost everyone involved in the trafficking and brothels, and Devon was snuck out of the state.

Last week, she was in therapy, spilling everything that had happened, and her feelings on the matter, to a therapist, who actually deemed her as “mentally sound” after only four days. And then, she was back in New York. She had done her normal prep after getting home; she had a debrief with her boss, a check in with the shrink here, she unpacked and repacked her two-week grip, she dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled her guns—her normal glock and her drop gun--and she sharpened her knives. She went to get a drink, something that was denied to her for over three years, and something that she needed so that she could simply relax for the first time since she left. Then that man, sitting right in front of her, was at the bar. He was trouble; she knew from the moment she walked in and saw those two men—Aces—targeting him. But just how much trouble, she had no idea. She got into a fight, if you can call it that, and then heard how her best friend’s entire life had basically completely changed. And now, she was ripped out of her life before it even got a chance to be normal again.

“If you have a question, just ask, instead of staring at me the whole time you’re here,” Barba said dryly.

Devon started; she didn’t even notice she was staring. She cleared her throat. “I do have a question, actually.” Barba stopped scribbling, putting his pen down and looked at her, mildly annoyed. “Has your home been compromised?”

He sighed, picking his pen back up and looking at the notepad once more, clearly not taking her seriously. “Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Okay, that’s good. Even so, we should think about it as if it has been. There’re three options; one, we stay at your place with some extra precautions. Two, I set up a third-party place, like a hotel; don’t worry about cost, I’ll cover it. Or three, we stay at my place.” Barba raised an eyebrow. “Keep your mind out of the gutter; I have a guest room and two bathrooms. I also have extra security on my doors and windows that I had installed.”

“I’d rather stay in my own home, thank you,” he replied, not catching the fact that she had said ‘we.’ He continued writing, clearly done with the conversation. Smiling to herself, Devon pulled her laptop out of her grip and opened it. This ADA was headstrong, like most ADAs assigned to SVU, but she already liked him for some reason. She wasn’t sure why quite yet, but she learned to trust the instinct. Once connected to the internet, she got started on her own work.

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Thursday, January 27th. 9:15pm

By the time Barba had finished for the night, well, as much as he was going to do, it was dark outside. He looked at the clock, sighing at the late time; he always tried to be out of the office by 7 at the latest, but time had gotten away from him, especially since his mind was rattled. It was harder to focus on the cases after everything that had happened the past two days, plus the extra day he was granted for the case that was pushed just made him more stressed. He sighed again, feeling the pressure that tomorrow would be. Then, he cleared his desk, pushing papers into his briefcase in an order that only he understood. He stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. He heard the sound of a laptop closing and jumped, startled.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Devon said, placing her laptop in her bag and zipping it up. How did he forget that she was there?

“Sorry, I forgot you were checking Facebook all day,” he replied, rolling his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart. It was only a laptop closing. Get a grip on yourself, he thought, chiding himself. Devon slung her grip over her shoulder but said nothing, a small smile on her lips. Barba put on his jacket and walked to the door. Devon was there instantly; she gently put her hand on his stomach and nudged him away from the door. Barba rolled his eyes again, annoyed at the theatrics, as she opened the door, checking every direction for anything out of the ordinary. The unis that were posted had long since left, as had Carmen; the building was empty, silent. Devon had her gun drawn and motioned for Barba to follow her.

“Is this all necessary?” he asked sardonically. Even with his tone, however, he stuck close to her.

“Honestly? Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” she replied. They made their way quickly through the DA’s building, Devon checking every corner and hallway, Barba thinking it ridiculous, over-the-top. “Did you drive here, by the way? Or should I order a rideshare?”

“I was dropped off by Detective Amaro this morning,” Barba said. “Seems Olivia doesn’t want me to be alone since last night.”

“I’d ask why Amaro didn’t stay with you, but if your outburst from earlier is any indication, I think I know the answer.”

Barba bristled, but said nothing. They both made it in and out of the elevator, then to the double doors leading outside. Devon stopped him, opened the door a smidge, and examined outside. After a moment, she opened the door wider, slipping out, but still motioning for Barba to stay put. Huffing, he opened the other door and walked out into the brisk night air, making his way to the street.

“Fucking really?” Devon asked, hurrying to catch up to him. There were no immediate dangers around, just a few stragglers walking down the darken streets, so Devon pointed her gun to the ground, more discreet this way.

“Come on Motely, you’ve seen how unorganized the Aces’ have been in their attempts on my life. I highly doubt there would be one waiting outside the DA’s building, especially this late. Probably got too bored waiting for me to come out.”

Devon made it to the curb, hailing a cab, thinking it safer and faster than waiting for a rideshare. As one pulled over to admit them, she said, “they’ve failed twice now, attacking you while you were at a bar and while you were in the courthouse. Honestly, they may be getting angrier or worse, desperate. So yes, I will expect them outside your place of work, along with at your home, the grocery store you shop at, and any other place you may frequent, no matter what time it is.” They both got in, Devon forcing Barba to sit behind the taxi driver—harder for the driver to attack directly behind himself—while she took the other backseat. “Besides, I’d rather be safe than sorry. And I think Liv may actually kill me if you were to get hurt on my watch.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with,” he smirked. Barba knew he was being difficult, and he wasn’t entirely sure why; there had been two attempts on his life in two days, one that left an angry red mark on his face that everyone was too smart, or scared, to ask about, and another that still makes his heart beat faster when he thinks of it, the sound of the gunshots still echoing in his mind. Now that he had time to sit and think about it, he thought that his anger was a mix of stress from his job—he was doing four cases at once, two of which were tough cases to begin with—and a fear that someone actually took a hit out on him. He’d been an ADA for over a decade; he’s gotten multiple threats, everything from violence to him and/or his family to death threats. But this was the first time someone had actually tried to follow through with it. He sighed, deciding to not take his emotional outrage out on Motely; it wasn’t her fault that she got lumped into this. He had to check his rage, especially now when any mistake could be the difference between living his life and being six feet under.

“Can you give me a quick layout of your place?” Devon asked, jolting Barba out of his thoughts. He agreed, spending the rest of the drive filling in the broad details of his loft; it was smaller than he would like, to be honest, but it was cheaper and close to the courthouse. He had a full floor to himself; a living room, kitchen, two bathrooms—though one was a master bathroom connected to the master bedroom—and two bedrooms. There were only windows in the living room and the master bedroom, the fire escape outside the bedroom window.

The cab pulled to the curb; Devon paid the driver, then followed Barba up the couple steps to the glass door of the building. He opened it, and she followed him in, to the elevator, then down the short hallway to the front door of his loft. She allowed him to unlock the door and walk into the living room before stopping him. She took off her grip and placed it on a couch—there was only a loveseat and an armchair around a coffee table--locked the front door, then unholstered her gun once more.

“Anything out of place?” she asked, not looking at him but rather looking down the hallway to the master bedroom, watching the dark doors lining the walls. There wasn’t much to check in the living room; besides the couch, chair, and table, Barba had a simple TV stand with a TV on it, two bookshelves side-by-side, filled mostly with law books and other scholarly literature he kept from college, and a few, minimalistic wall art hangings. He wasn’t a home designer, and he was hardly home as it was, so he never felt the need to decorate. Once he declined, Devon said, “okay good. Now, place your whole hand on my back, and do not remove it until I say so.” Barba opened his mouth to ask, decided against it, and did as she asked.

Once Devon felt his strong hand lay hesitantly between her shoulder blades, the warmth of his skin sinking through the fabric of her shirt, she started to move through the loft. Barba missed a step, not expecting her to move. He then followed, hand staying on her muscular back. She checked every room, gun aimed at chest height, looking in the closets and under the bed, before ending in the master bedroom, announcing that the home was cleared and reholstering her gun.

“You can have your hand back,” she said while checking the locks on the windows.

“May I ask why I did that?” he asked, dropping his hand to his side. He could still feel the pull of her muscles moving under her shirt, even though he was no longer touching her. He stripped his suit jacket and tie, placed them on a hanger, and hung them on his closet door. Normally, he took it off by the front door and threw it over a chair, but something about having a guest over, especially one he didn’t know, made him want to not look like a total disaster. Though, he noticed with a hint of embarrassment, Devon did go through the guest bedroom, if you could call it that, during her sweep. That room had become a second office to Barba; it was a mess of files, papers, books, and other miscellaneous things that made no sense to anyone except Barba, though he wasn’t even sure what some of it was. There was no bed, no dressers, nothing that actually made it a bedroom. Only a small desk and a lonely desk lamp.

Devon gave him a look that said, just do what you’re told, before explaining. “Because I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to protect someone while also scanning a home. If you go in front of me, you have a chance of being assaulted if there is someone here. Likewise, if I abandoned you by the door, someone could blitz you while I’m back in the master room. It just makes sense to have you touching me, so I know you’re safe while I’m also a human shield.”

Barba didn’t want to know how many times she had failed to protect someone to have found out this method of protection. Seemingly approving of the locks on the bedroom windows, Devon moved to other rooms in the house, checking for ways to break in. Thankfully, his loft was on the 5th floor, so besides the fire escape, there wasn’t a real way to break in—unless he had some very, very determined hitman after him. After checking all the windows, she went to the front door. Unlocking it, she checked the hallway quickly before looking at the locking mechanism in the door; it had a normal deadbolt and a chain near eyelevel. There was also a peephole; otherwise, it was a normal door. She huffed when she noticed the screws holding the hinges on.

“Did you honestly move in here without changing at least the screws in the door?” she admonished.

Barba never thought about it before. “Uh, yes?” Devon shook her head.

“You should install some thicker, longer screws; makes it harder to kick your door down.” Devon then rummaged through her grip, pulling out a doorstop.

“A doorstop? Really? That will protect us if someone kicks the door down?”

Devon rolled her eyes. “Of course not. This is a screaming doorstop; once armed, if this door moves at all, that alarm will wake up the whole damn building.”

Barba looked impressed. “Why the hell do you even know about a device like that?”’

Devon laughed, “I may be an FBI agent, but I’m still a woman. Damsel in Defense is a god-send for living as a woman in the city.”

Grabbing the doorstop, she flipped a switch on it, then wedged it under the door. She then glanced at the clock on her phone, noticing it was getting close to 10pm. “Hey, it’s getting kinda late; what time do you normally go to bed?” she asked, realizing that neither of them had had dinner.

Barba looked at his watch, seemingly also unaware of the passage of time. He had to be in court at 9, which meant he had to be in his office at 7 tomorrow morning and now he was faced with the decision that he had almost every night; stay awake and work on his upcoming cases or get a decent night of sleep. He almost always chose the former, he’d just get a strong coffee or three before court tomorrow. But another part of him was desperate to be alone with his thoughts, to really absorbed the events happening in his life right now. Maybe he’d work for a little bit, then figure out a polite way to kick Motely out for the night, something he very much knew he’d fail at.

“It varies, but it’ll probably be around midnight for me tonight…hopefully,” he debated for a moment before saying, “I’m not planning on leaving at all tonight if you wanted to go sleep for a little. I’m leaving here at six tomorrow morning.”

Completely missing the hint, Devon replied, “ah, no worries. I normally go to sleep around that time, too. You won’t be bothering me at all.” To prove her point, she pulled out her laptop, plugged it in to the wall, and sat down in the armchair with it. Feeling like that was a failure to dislodge her, but unwilling to try again at this moment, Barba sighed. He pulled out the paperwork he was doing in his office, and spread it over the coffee table, taking a seat on the couch.

They worked silently for a couple hours before Barba spoke without looking up. “What are you even doing on that laptop?” As focused as he had been on his casework, the constant clicking of keys as Devon typed crept into his brain.

Devon gave him a wicked grin before she replied, “Facebook, remember?” When Barba shot back a glare, she huffed out a laugh. “I’m looking through the FBI’s database on the Aces. I want to know everything I can about them, seeing as I may have to deal with a couple of them in the coming months.”

“What have you found?” he asked, his paperwork completely forgotten. He got up, came over to the armchair, and sat on an arm, leaning in so that he could see the screen. Devon had the leader—Jorge Ramirez—on the screen, with a quick summation of his profile. She also had the two men from the alley and the man that took a shot at Barba today, whose name was Jake Peterson. He couldn’t help but notice that the two men from the alley, Jose and Rogelio Olivera, both had AT LARGE written in their profiles.

“Well, it’s a relatively small gang based in Manhattan; only 65 members, at least on file. Most are Hispanic, drug dealers, and traffickers...seems like their leader, Ramirez, was the bad one. Probably why he was the leader. Though, they do have a couple of white men hired on as frontmen; they’re the ones that sell drugs to the wealthy businessmen because, and I quote, ‘white men are more trustworthy to the rich bastards.’” They looked at each other, “hey, don’t look at me, I didn’t write it. But it makes sense; most capitalist pigs are deeply racist.”

“65 members, though? You’re right, that is small, but it will still take the cops time to catch them all,” the unsaid words hung in the air, tangible, but not claimed, it’s going to take a while for life to go back to normal.

“So far, only two are incarcerated, Jorge Ramirez and Jake Peterson. Looking through the profiles that I can pull up, it seems like only a few of them have actually murdered before, but not as an active profession. Not to get too cocky, but I think that’s a good sign for you; I should be able to take on anyone who threatens you. Unless, of course, you decide that you want to go wherever you want instead of listening to me.”

Barba flinched inwardly at the slight venom in her voice. He had to work on controlling that spite of his. “You’re right,” he said begrudgingly. “From now on, I’ll follow your lead.” He looked down at her, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

She looked up at him, returning the smile. “That’s all I can ask of you. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but I am here to help.” They sat there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Maybe protecting the ADA wouldn’t be too bad, maybe this wouldn’t drive a wedge between her’s and Liv’s friendship. And maybe, just maybe, they’d both get out alive at the end of this.

Barba looked into her eyes, lit by her laptop’s screen. He could listen to her, follow orders, like the good lapdog people wished he would be. He knew, deep down, that she was there to protect him; even if it was a ‘favor’ from Olivia, he could tell that Devon’s job meant a lot to her, that she was taking this seriously. He’d have to remember to thank Liv later, if he survived this. He suddenly realized that he didn’t want Devon to leave tonight; he felt safe here, in her presences.

They both seemed to notice at the same time how they were sitting; Barba had been leaning down closer to her face, and she was leaning closer to his leg, cheek almost brushing against his pantleg. He stood up, hiding the blush that spread across his cheeks as he noticed how close to his crotch she had been, how inappropriate it was. She sat up a little straighter and seemed to find her screen very interesting all of a sudden.

“Well, I think it’s about time I went to bed,” Barba said, stretching. He packed up all the papers into appropriate folders and placed them in his briefcase, so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning.

“That’s probably a good idea. What time do you get up? Do you eat breakfast, have coffee? Anything I can help with?”

Barba was surprised by the questions. “Uh, around 5:00, no, no, and no.” Once he collected his thoughts a little, he explained, “I get up, I shower, I dress. Then I leave.”

“Simple, I like it. See you in the morning,” Devon trilled.

Confused, Barba didn’t move as Devon closed her laptop and put it on the table. She then stretched herself out on the loveseat, as much as she could since it was shorter than she was, putting her head on one of the pillows he kept on it.

“I—I take it you’re staying here tonight?” Barba asked, incredulous at her brazenness.

“Uh, yeah? You heard Sergeant Benson, I’m sure; ‘24/7 protection.’ That includes overnights, Barba.”

He felt the weight of those words; he was seriously going to be with this stranger all day, every day, for who knew how long. “I just…I didn’t expect—”

“It always catches people off guard the first night. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to me. And besides, our deal is that after the Aces are gone, you never have to see me again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change out of these clothes.”

Barba’s face went bright red as he hurried to his room. He could swear he heard Devon chuckling as he went. After a couple moments, he heard the guest bathroom door close. Suddenly remembering his hospitality, he went to his closet, grabbing one of his extra blankets, and made his way back out to the living room. He moved quickly, suddenly embarrassed about seeing Devon in pajamas, huffing out a goodnight as he passed by the bathroom as he retreated back to his room before she had a chance to emerge. Again, he could’ve sworn he heard her laughing as he hurried by. Why was he so embarrassed?

He faintly remembered the night before, how lonely he had felt in the bar. Now that he had a roommate thrust upon him, he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Not like there was much he could do about it now. And with that thought from the night before, the other memories came back, how pretty he thought she was, how he had entertained the idea of bringing her back here, even if only for a moment—

No, he wouldn’t, couldn’t think about that, especially with her right on the other side of his bedroom door, stretched out on his couch, sleeping under his blanket. God, what was happening to him? He still didn’t even really know this woman! He had to be more careful, reign in his emotions; she was an FBI agent, assigned to him to make sure he lived through this threat on his life. Nothing more, nothing less. Though, he had to admit that she was probably going to be around for a while. Might as well get to know her, he thought ruefully. He tried not to get too excited about the thought.

#everyone deserves love #edl #everyone deserves love chapter 4 #edl ch 4 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #barba x oc #rafael barba x oc #fanfic #my writing #this is not a sponsored ad for damsel in defense #but it is a good source of cool stuff

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youreamonocoque · 3 years ago

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Uh oh I'm rambling about tennis. Idk how to summarise this here because it's a bit all over the place but the basic TLDR is number 1 and number 2 in the world were much closer in terms of tennis/performance in 2012 than they are this year.

I love reading comments under posts saying that Pablo's into the semi final because some of them are like 'oh damn!' and others are just a sad 'well now no one can stop Djokovic' like hello? Did you think if somehow Daniil had won today that he would've been able to beat Novak? 'But he's number 2 in the world' Novak has already qualified for the tour finals. He is 3k points ahead of Stefanos despite having played just over half the tournaments that Stef has.

The way Novak is playing, unless he has an off day I think he's winning the Gold no matter who is on the other side of the net. I think he'll face a challenge in Zverev but nobody can touch Novak, he's playing so well.

I get that they're going 'oh but Daniil is number 2 he could at least challenge Novak' as if the 3 guys left can't.

Zverev took a set off of Novak at the Australian Open this year.

Khachanov has not beaten Novak since 2018 but he still has a win over Novak.

In their previous meeting Pablo took a set off of Novak. In the meeting before that Pablo broke Djokovic and was about to serve for the first set, Novak got defaulted. (It counts as a win soooo)

The 3 left aren't shit. Daniil isn't shit. It's just that Novak is that good. It's not like when the top of the rankings were dominated by Roger, Rafa and Novak where they were basically unbeatable except to each other.

Let's go back to 2012 say. Imagine that the Olympics that year are the same as they are this year in terms of rankings.

Novak(1+), Rafa(2*), Tsonga(5), Almagro(11), Cilic(25), Bennetau (28), Lacko(58) and Dodig(69).

If we match them up like the 2020 last 8 was then you've got

Novak against Dodig Tsonga against Lacko Cilic against Benneteau Rafa against Almagro

Rafa would not be beaten by Almagro. Cilic would beat Benneteau. Tsonga would beat Lacko and Novak would beat Dodig. Which gives us semi finals of

Novak against Tsonga Rafa against Cilic

Every meeting in 2012 against Tsonga, Novak won (even beat him at the Olympics). Rafa would beat Cilic. This gives you a final of Novak against Rafa, who wins?

Compare that to this year where you've got a last 8 of

Novak(1), Daniil(2), Zverev(5),Pablo(11), Khachanov(25), Humbert(28), Chardy(58) and Nishikori(69)

Novak is not being troubled by any of those. If you got a final of Novak against Daniil with the form Novak is in you're not really guessing? You're going "Well maybe Daniil has a chance???"

My point is that in 2012 you would not be seeing Rafa be beaten by the world number 11. Rafa was too good. (Fun fact want to know where Almagro's last title was before he retired? Estoril. Who did he beat in the final? Pablo)

1 and 2 in the world in 2012 is not the same as 1 and 2 in 2021. This year the gap in terms of tennis is way larger, Novak is just on another level. In 2012 both Rafa and Novak were on that level.

(Obviously ranking doesn't mean everything as in 2012 we didn't get a final of world number 1 against number 2 but when people are saying Daniil had the best chance of beating Novak because Daniil is number 2 in the world (and a very good tennis player idk if he's better than Tsitispas or Zverev, I'd say they're all very equal around 2 to 8?? whereas in 2012 there was a smaller gap between the top 3 (Andy was sort of on his own at number 4) and then there was a bigger gap to 5 from there. In 2012 Novak wasn't out on his own, whereas this year he is.). People saying that Daniil has the best chance because he's number 2 are ignoring the performance gap between Novak and him and also forgetting that rankings don't mean everything. E.g Thiem is currently at 6 in the world but missed Wimbledon and therefore a huge chunk of points due to injury and people have different amount of points to defend etc. Rankings don't mean everything. Daniil being world number 2 does not mean he has the best chance of beating Novak because there are other factors that need to be considered)

(Interestingly in 2012 the final 8 was world number 1 Novak, 3 Roger, 4 Andy, 5 Tsonga, 9 del Potro, 10 Isner, 11 Almagro and 18 Nishikori. - Way less range than this year. )

+(Note: Novak was world number 1 at the time of the Olympics but was not the number 1 seed. In this theoretical, seeding does not matter and the draw is done by ranking- No I have no idea how Roger was number 1 seed I imagine it's because it was at Wimbledon and until this year Wimbledon did it's seeding differently. For the purpose of this theoretical we're also ignoring the surface lmao (I should've used 2016....sigh....Welp i've written the post now and I'm too lazy to change it!)

*(Note: At the time of the Olympics Rafa was ranked number 2 in the world but did not compete. But he is still present in this theoretical)

(I have not proofread this lmao and there is no real conclusion because I am lazy :D)

#tennis #tokyo 2020 #honestly i could've used 2016 but errr i didn't #i probably should've used 2016 #oh well!#have some terrible analysis!#also like most of this is just me rambling in parenthesis #parenthesis or parentheses??? idk

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ofwolfandmuse · 4 years ago

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INTRODUCING

( jd pardo, cis-male, he/him ⋇ the feeling of being able to lick the spoon, the sound of jingling dog tags, baking at 3 am when you can’t sleep, worn leather jackets, and the hum of a harley in the distance) ⋯ well if it ain’t 『 RAFAEL ESPINOZA』from 『 DOWNTOWN 』! they’re a beloved member of crystal grove, been here for about 『MOST OF HIS LIFE } now. that『 39 』year old works here as a『 BAKER AT SEA BREEZE CAFE 』when they’re not busy 『 RIDING HIS MOTORCYCLE 』. and it’s clear from their 『 WILD BERRIES WITH A HINT OF BROWN SUGAR』 scent they’re an『 OMEGA 』. they’re known to be 『 AMIABLE 』, but『 RESTLESS 』as well, but you didn’t hear that from me. why don’t you go on over and introduce yourself ?

GET TO KNOW THE MUSE

Name: Rafael Isadore Espinoza

Nickname(s): Raf, Rafa,

Age: 39

Date of Birth: March 29th

Zodiac: Aries

Place of Birth: Crystal Grove, Washington

Race / Ethnicity: Hispanic

Gender: Cis-Male

Secondary Gender: Omega

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexual Orientation: Cupiosexual

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

FAMILY

Sire: Carlos Espinoza (Beta)

Dame: Daniela Espinoza nee Cortez (Omega, deceased)

Siblings: Gabriel Espinoza (age 36, Beta), Maria Velazquez nee Espinoza (age 32, Omega)

Mate: None

Children: None

Pets: A chocolate German Sheprador by the name of Champ

APPEARANCE

Height: 5′11

Build: Athletic, Muscular

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Tattoos: None

Piercings: None

Distinguishing Features: A burn mark that covers a good portion of his back, his left shoulder, the left side of his neck and expands upwards to his left ear

WOLF FORM

Fur Color: Sandy brown colored

Wolf Build: Average, stocky

NSFW

Preference: Switch, Versatile

Kinks: Affirmations, Worship, Multiple Orgasms (giving), Sensory Play, open to others

Anti-Kinks: Blood-Play, Age-Play, Little-Play, Waste-Play

BIOGRAPHY

(triggers: trauma, war, ptsd, fire, explosions, burns)

The oldest of the Espinoza pups, Rafael had always known what was ahead of him in life - the military. With all of the men in the family enlisting in the military once they were of age, dating back generations, it was something that was expected of Rafael and, frankly, he quite liked it. After all, hearing his dad or his abuelo speak about their time in the military had ignited his desire to join the military, wanting to find that camaraderie with other men and knowing that someone had your back making it to where the young wolf couldn’t wait. And once he was eighteen, he was quick to enlist, joining the United States Marine Corps - and though, at first, he was met with some resistance, it was only by other new recruits that quickly changed their tune when they realized that Rafael could hold his own against them.

The Omega thrived in the military, to the point where he didn’t really want to leave even when he completed his first tour, and he continued to serve for his country and carry on the Espinoza legacy. For years, Rafael continued to serve as a soldier despite his parents wishing him to retire so that they could finally arrange a potential relationship for him, as he knew that his place was out there, with his guys. And that’s exactly where he had been... until the accident.

It had started out like any other day, Rafael and a group of guys from his platoon were traveling - one minute they were ragging on each other, and the next the jeep was upside down and on fire. How Rafael managed to be the only survivor, he wasn’t sure, but he definitely didn’t walk away unscathed - left with several burns alongside the left side of his body, very minimal hearing in his left ear and varying degrees of tinnitus in his right ear... and that doesn’t include the amount of PTSD he now carried.

Adjusting to civilian life was hard for any veteran, but it was even harder for a wolf that now had to adjust to having impaired hearing - and it didn’t help, either, that his mother wound up passing only three months after his medical discharge. Thankfully, between his brother whom he moved in with, the therapist that the VA paired with him, and his new hearing dog Champ, he was able to slowly come to grips with his new life. But now that he was no longer in the military, the man knew that he needed to find something to do to make a living - sure, he received disability checks, but he didn’t want to just live on them. And then it hit him.

It happened on a night he couldn’t sleep, nights that came often enough for him, and as he was working on a new batch of cookies to make, he realized... he could do this. He had always enjoyed baking with his mom and his abuela, and the two women had always joked that he had a natural talent and would make a better baker than a soldier... and now that being a solider was out of the question? Maybe he could actually become a baker. And after seeing a ‘help wanted’ sign in the corner of the cafe’s window, he wound up getting a job as a baker.

It’s been two years since the accident, and Rafael has slowly gotten into the groove of civilian life, but now his father is pushing for him to settle down and find a mate, especially as he's closer and closer to his fortieth birthday, but Rafael isn’t sure he’s ready for that. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself, but the truth is, he would love to have kids but with so many young pups being afraid to even look at him because of his scars, it has him worried that if he has kids that they’d look at him that way too.

And he’s not sure if he can handle that.

#crystalgrove: intro

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unfantasmaficker · 4 years ago

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La chica de la azotea/ the girl on the roof

// Esta es mi primera vez escribiendo un fanfic

// El lector es de genero femenino (si les gusta y recibe apoyo voy a intentar hacer una version en genero neutral para que asi todos puedan leerlo) tambien si no les agrada la descripcion de la lectora tienen total libertad de cambiarlo! sean cretiv@s!! Fantasmita se va!!!!

Disfruten!

Un día cualquiera en la ciudad de New York o al menos así ya lo veía yo, salí de las alcantarillas para tener un momento a solas, ya no soportaba estar ahí, tengo trabajo importante que hacer, con el kraang haciendo experimentos raros yo soy el único que puede dar respuestas al equipo pero simplemente en ese ambiente no se puede pensar con claridad! Rafa y Leo se la pasan peleando, Mikey no deja de molestar y sobre todo Abril esta con Casey haciéndose ojitos! Yo solo necesito un tiempo para calmarme y volveré a casa, si no lo hago seré igual de temperamental que Rafa y eso no está en mi lista de deseos, de todas formas no tardaría será una salida rápida, lo peor que puede pasar si me tardo más de lo usual es que se podrían preocupar y lo último que quiero es un regaño de Leo o peor del maestro Splinter, a veces me siento solo aunque tenga a mis hermanos, a mi padre y a nuestros amigos, tal vez el hecho de que abril no me corresponde sea lo que me tiene mal pero me gustaría hablar con alguien acerca de esto, alguien que no se burle o se queje alguien que en serio entienda.

Camino por los techos, escalo las paredes, hago una que otra maniobra para animarme y aun así solo estoy yo escuchando a mis propios pensamientos, estaba a punto de retirarme creía que ya paso demasiado tiempo, como dije tengo más responsabilidades pendientes que nadie más podría entender o realizar, un peso que debo llevar.

En el techo en el que estaba había una entrada que obviamente daba a la azotea donde yo estaba, no sé si fue mala suerte pero justo cuando me calme y estaba dispuesto a volver, alguien abrió la puerta.

- Rayos… –

Dije en un casi susurro, pues obviamente tuve que ocultarme para que cualquiera que estuviera ahí no me viera, podría simplemente irme y ya es la única opción lógica pero esta persona bloqueaba el único atajo a las alcantarillas cerca de la guarida, tomar cualquier otro camino me retrasaría y eso podría preocupar a mis hermanos, así que solamente quedaba esperar a que se fueran y seguir con mi camino

- Vaya día de porquería! –

Por su voz deduce que era una chica, una adolecente, debía quedarme oculto obviamente pero la curiosidad me mataba que simplemente alce un poco la cabeza y pude verla, era alta, cabello castaño y corto aun así se veía que era ondulado y muy esponjoso, su ropa era muy peculiar un suéter de diseño viejo verde militar súper holgado, lo tenía fajado en unas bermudas de mezclilla azul naval y usaba botas de lluvia lo cual era muy raro ya que no estábamos en temporada de lloviznas , tenía una caja en sus manos y la azoto con fuerza en el suelo, escuche varios vidrios romperse y a la vista de cómo cayo se veía pesado, claro no era problema de la chica que fácilmente lo volvió a alzar y lo estrello fuerte de nuevo

Se veía algo molesta, no que digo algo, se veía furiosa! Pude observar como maldecía y gritaba al aire con todas sus fuerzas

- Malditos deberes! Malditas responsabilidades! El que sea capaz de hacer más cosas que tú no te da derecho a dejar todo sobre mis hombros! –

Abrió la caja y saco varias botellas de cerveza algunas ya estaban rotas pero otras parecían intactas sorpresivamente, las estrellaba en el suelo, las aventaba o simplemente las pisaba, vaya, sí que fue lista en usar las botas para esta peculiar actividad, después de que se le acabaron las botellas simplemente alzo la cara y grito, hubo algo en su grito que se me hacía diferente, con un hermano como Rafael estaba muy acostumbrado a los gritos pero nunca había escuchado uno como el de ella, se escuchaba triste, desesperada, sola…

Me había quedado viendo todo este tiempo sin que ella me notara, pero yo note en ella como lagrimas se resbalaban en sus mejillas con pecas, me sentía mal por ella, tenía ganas de preguntarle si estaba bien o si necesitaba ayuda, pero eso es imposible aún recuerdo la primera vez que Abril me vio y grito, nadie puede verme a la cara sin asustarse y salir corriendo, todo siempre creerán que soy un fenómeno y creo que ella no es la excepción, la chica se limpió sus lágrimas cuando regreso la mirada al suelo, recogió la caja vacía y simplemente volvió a entrar por la misma puerta de la cual salió.

Esa era mi señal, con cuidado salí de mi escondite y procure tener cuidado al caminar por los miles de vidrios rotos que se encontraban en el suelo, si va a hacer una rabieta al menos debería recoger su desastre!

Llegando al otro extremo de la azotea no pude evitar ver hacia atrás, los vidrios seguían ahí eso quería decir que mi “encuentro” con la chica si paso y aunque esto suene a una locura yo aún no podía creer lo que presencié, me sentí identificado de alguna forma y de nuevo mi curiosidad despertó quería volver a verla, solo para escucharla, solo para ver que se le ocurría hacer la próxima vez, salte de techo en techo, escale escaleras y paredes y al regresar a la alcantarilla que me llevaba a casa solo podía pensar en el mañana cuando pueda ver de nuevo a la chica de la azotea.

English Version

On any given day in New York City or at least that's how I saw it, I came out of the sewers to have a moment alone, I couldn't bear to be there anymore, I have important work to do, with the kraang doing strange experiments, I am the one the only one who can give answers to the team but simply in that environment you cannot think clearly! Raph and Leo are always fighting, Mikey does not stop bothering and especially April is with Casey flirting! I just need some time to calm down and I'll go home, if I don't I will be just as temperamental as Raph and that's not on my wish list, anyway it won't take long it will be a quick exit, the worst thing that can happen if I'm late more than usual is that they could worry and the last thing I want is a scolding from Leo or worse from Master Splinter, sometimes I feel lonely even though I have my brothers, my father and our friends, maybe the fact that April does not correspond my feelings is what is wrong with me but I would like to talk with someone about this, someone who does not mock or complain, someone who seriously understands.

I walk on the ceilings, I climb the walls, I do the odd maneuver to cheer myself up and even so I'm just listening to my own thoughts, I was about to retire I thought that too much time had passed, as I said I have more pending responsibilities than anyone else could understand or realize, a weight that I must carry.

On the roof I was on there was an entrance that obviously led to the roof where I was, I don't know if it was bad luck but just when I calmed down and was ready to go back, someone opened the door.

- Dang it… -

I said in an almost whisper, because obviously I had to hide so that anyone who was there would not see me, I could just leave and it is already the only logical option but this person blocked the only shortcut to the sewers near the lair, take any other path I would be late and that could worry my brothers, so I just had to wait for them to leave and continue on my way.

- What a crappy day! -

From her voice I deduces that it was a girl, an adolescent, I had to stay hidden obviously but curiosity killed me that I just raised my head a little and I could see her, she was tall, brown hair and short even so it looked like it was wavy and very fluffy, Her clothes were very peculiar a super loose old military green design sweater, she had it tucked in some navy blue denim shorts and she wore rain boots which was very rare since we were not in the drizzle season, she had a box in her hands and she hit it hard on the ground, I heard several glass break and at the sight of how it fell it looked heavy, of course it was not the problem of the girl who easily raised it again and smashed it hard again

She looked somewhat annoyed, not that I said something, she looked furious! I could see how she cursed and screamed into the air with all his might

- Damn homework! Damn responsibilities! The fact that I am capable of doing more things than you does not give you the right to leave everything on my shoulders! -

She opened the box and took out several bottles of beer, some were already broken but others seemed surprisingly intact, she smashed them on the ground, threw them or simply stepped on them, well, she was ready to use her boots for this peculiar activity, after She ran out of bottles, she just raised her face and shouted, there was something in her cry that made me different, with a brother like Rafael I was very used to shouting but I had never heard one like hers, it sounded sad, desperate, alone…

I had been watching all this time without her noticing me, but I noticed in her how tears slied down her freckled cheeks, I felt bad for her, I wanted to ask her if she was okay or if she needed help, but that's impossible I still remember the first time that April saw me and yelled, nobody can see my face without being scared and running away, they will always believe that I am a phenomenon and I think she is no exception, the girl wiped her tears when she looked back to the ground, she picked up the empty box and simply went back in through the same door from which she came.

That was my signal, I carefully came out of my hiding place and tried to be careful when walking through the thousands of broken glass that were on the ground, if you are going to throw a tantrum you should at least pick up your mess!

Reaching the other end of the roof, I couldn't help looking back, the glass was still there, that meant that my "meeting" with the girl did happen and although this sounds crazy I still couldn't believe what I witnessed, I felt identified somehow and again my curiosity awoke I wanted to see her again, just to listen to her, just to see what she could do next time, jump from ceiling to ceiling, climb stairs and walls and when returning to the sewer that led me to home I could only think of tomorrow when I can see the girl on the roof again.

#fanfic_tmnt2012 fanficmadebyaFantasma #donatello x reader

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rafasbiscuits · 2 years ago

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well then. this blog has an expiry date that's good to know.

#I CRIED MYSELF TO SLEEP CAUSE OF RAFA GOODBYE #i just STARTED dammit and then hes going to RETIRE??😭😭#but yk at least its not this year.#one more year of rafa and then maybe. maybe this blog will dissapear <3 #rafael nadal #rafa nadal #tennis #sports

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rosalind-of-arden · 5 years ago

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Ash and Quill Reread chapter 8

As usual, looking for Morgan, Wolfe, and Santi. Also going to point out any interesting Glain and Thomas stuff in honor of the event day.

Morgan looks dead after overusing her power. She is severely chilled, even in a warm tent with blankets.

According to the doctor, Morgan needs “certain specific compounds to help her quintessence heal properly” and she needs to remain unconscious for the best results.

Morgan’s power is so messed up here that her attempts to heal Jess do the opposite.

Glain keeps getting the best lines: “Jess, I’m going to let you loose [...] And if you try to take my knife away, I will punch you so hard you’ll never wake up. Understand?” And then, “I wasn’t going to be the one washing your brains off the floor.”

Santi drives here. Still would like to know if Wolfe can drive or not.

Wolfe “Our children are growing up very well.” Santi: “And I said you’d never make a good father.” First of all, I totally want context for that comment of Santi’s. Have they seriously discussed having children? Is this a running joke between them in response to Wolfe basically adopting his students? More importantly though, they both approve of Khalila’s efforts to make peace with the Burners. Wolfe especially.

More Morgan power overuse symptoms: very sleepy.

Brendan asks if Santi’s been following the map. Wolfe, of course, must defend his man: “Of course he followed the map. Probably better than you could.”

So here’s the kind of thing that gives Jess and Dario their impression of conflicted loyalty from Santi. He threatens to shoot anyone who shoots at “a Scholar under a Library banner.” That sounds like Library loyalty. But then to Rafa, he says “Peace is given when peace is received.” So he’s not automatically siding with a Scholar. He just doesn’t conflate Scholars with the Curia. He and Wolfe know very well that most people working for the Library don’t like what the Archivist is doing.

So we have already speculated on Rafa here. So much fic potential here. Now, arguably, the wording is vague enough that Santi could be accusing Rafa of wanting Wolfe (”Yes, he is that wonderful, and he’s mine, not yours, so there” as opposed to “Yes, he’s that wonderful, why, did you think you had a chance with me?”), which has its own fun potential.

And here we see the Library’s nasty habit of assuming Wolfe is running the show. No, really, it’s pretty much the kids dragging him and Santi along for the rebellion. Philadelphia is the first time Wolfe’s been in charge since Ink and Bone.

Calm Santi is scary Santi. But even scary calm Santi can take a moment to comfort Khalila as he hands her the document.

There is a Serapeum with a Translation Chamber in New York. Apparently, this is the only place the Library still holds power in America, or at least in this area. The Burners are running things in Boston.

Here’s where we find out about Santi’s retired brother. I actually rather hope we do not encounter this brother in Sword and Pen, because nothing can compare to Vittorio.

So let’s add another High Garda uniform color scheme. Jess describes the lion as having “a dull matte pattern that blended perfectly with the grass, like High Garda camouflage.” So that gives us black, tan, and green uniforms.

Glain saves Khalila from being mauled by lion automata.

Zara sent scouts after the pack on motorcycles. We have steampunk motorcycles confirmed. Do Jess and Dario want them? Obviously.

High Garda jackets are made of “cloth and leather” and have “chain armor” built in. Ok, so, very nice for stopping lion claws and all, but how does that work on guns, which we’ve seen it do? Is there also a bulletproof layer? I could’ve sworn there was mention of built-in armor plates in Paper and Fire. Is this just more evidence that Library guns don’t fire normal bullets? Am I just wrong in my impression that chain armor does not work on projectiles? Maybe this is Obscurist-enhanced chain? Also, weight and noise. That stuff is heavy and noisy. Meh. I am inclined to call this an editing error.

Glain riding the lion! Awesome badass Glain moment here.

Thomas, equally awesome, managed to hit the switches on two lions, protecting Morgan. And then immediately after he is out of danger he starts analyzing the construction of the things. And reprograms them.

Santi also gets badass points here for taking Wolfe’s lion down with a single headshot, then proceeding to take down the next lion with Greek fire, dodging a burning lion while it tries to kill him.

More of Wolfe scolding Santi in a blatant attempt to mask his emotions: “He took mine before he tried to take his. Stupid.”

I should be doing a Jess vs. Morgan count to go with my Wolfe vs. Santi count. Once again, Jess tries to stop Morgan from doing things, and Morgan goes right ahead with doing what she wants to do.

Glain broke horses as a child. She’s also said her family were merchants, I think. So her family sells horses? Or is this child Glain’s idea of a fun hobby?

Wolfe can’t resist a jab at the Archivist: “We will see you in Alexandria.”

Thomas rescued the Burners’ journals from Philadelphia. And trades them to Anit to sweeten the deal.

And in case that wasn’t enough, Wolfe sweetens the deal even more by offering a lion. That’s really a rather sneaky offer from him. As he and Santi discuss in Smoke and Iron, just having a lion doesn’t do anyone much good: they have to be ordered to obey someone. In theory, they can leave the lion with orders to escape, kill the smugglers, etc.

Morgan goes right to a cabin on the ship. So do Wolfe and Santi.

Countries siding against the Library: Wales, England, Portugal, Turkey, Russia, Japan, France, America. The document suggests that they know about the burning of the Black Archives and/or the suppression of the printing press. Assuming the Burners are spreading the word.

The High Garda is starting to rebel.

#the great library #ash and quill reread

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zingaplanet · 2 years ago

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I'm curious if anyone else feels sad at the rise of Carlos Alcaraz...part of me wants to root for him. More than his brilliance, he seems like a really nice guy. BUT...I don't want Rafa's supreme legacy challenged in any way, shape, or form. I selfishly want Rafa to always be Spain's biggest icon and for his tennis records to be untouched. So I find myself rooting against Alcaraz. I just miss Rafa...

Anon that's completely normal! I completely get it. I think the feeling of idolation we have of someone is very unique, it's love, it's respect, but most of all it's wanting someone to do well (without any discernible reason or direct benefit to us!) I think tbh being a fan is one of the most positive acts (except when you over-imposed on their privacy of course!) one can do, you shower someone with love, support and admiration without expecting anything back. So you are definitely not being selfish, in fact, you are being selfless for the sake of another (although unfortunately since this is competitive sport and not the music industry where the winner takes all principle doesn't really apply, this might clash with other people's interests).

I think for me at least in sports, a good practice is to try and support/love with no expectations or demands. Our heroes don't really owe us anything nor us to them. There will always be another person, another winner, another number one, and there's nothing really we can do about it! History is always rewritten because nothing is ever eternal. But that also doesn't mean that it's not emotionally difficult. A bit like you always want your childhood memories to stay the same, your best friends to remain close to you as you grow old, and your favourite tv show to always plays on Friday night for the rest of your life. But time always moves on, especially in sports when career expectancy is very short! This past 5 years we're already seeing generations change not just in tennis but in all sports (And what a generation it has been!), no more Phelps, Serena Williams, Vettel, Federer, Kobe, etc. I personally think it's painful because these athletes are not just who we support but they've also become parts of our lives to a little bit (and maybe our youth), ways we remember good memories with! It's completely alright not to support the new generations, maybe that's something our children will have the privilege to discover (Someone their generation that they'll grow up watching!). But the danger maybe is when that fear of change turns into negative thoughts and actions, and for me I guess maybe that's why I kinda stopped watching tennis since awhile now. Players I used to watch growing up are no longer actively on tour, and that's ok, they grew up too! I just don't want to find reasons to irrationally hate anybody because I think I hate it the most when sports become a divisive force instead of a uniting one.

I think the key is knowing that records can be broken but legacies are forever. Because legacies are so much more than physical achievements (tournaments won, grand slams gained, etc), but how somebody is remembered in the memories of many! For me I'll never forget how watching the Wimbledon Final 2008 made me feel, the adrenaline, the rush, being surrounded by family during a nice, warm summer, or the inspiration I felt when watching Rafa get back up and up again from his injuries! That's what matters, I think, and that's what he said he wants to be remembered most by, not the guy who wins the most grand slam title, spain number one or anything, but just a good guy who competes fiercely and fairly, who are kind to his friends and fans, and who leaves the sport better than when he entered it! In a way, I think that's how they themselves as athletes make their peace with this, and why Federer was able to have such a happy retirement.

I don't know if this helps at all, sorry for accidentally being your tumblr psychologist, this is prob a weird answer to an ask! hahaha just giving you lots of mental support and hug <3 (Also sorry for the late reply! just had the time to go through tumblr properly now)

#rafael nadal #rafa #nadal #ask #tennis #carlos alcaraz #sports

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rafaelnadalfans · 6 years ago

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Our collective memory is full of milestones, situations and characters that connect us and help maintain social cohesion. We tend to cling to these day-to-day references to reassure us that we’re still alive, that we haven’t steered off course. That we are part of something bigger than ourselves. Rafa Nadal is one of these icons, an anchor that has a lot more to tell us about besides his athletic success. He goes beyond that. Nadal has become a cultural icon thanks to his humility, despite his grandeur, and thanks to his sportsmanship, despite competing in an individual discipline, which is, by definition, selfish. Also thanks to his modesty and accesibility, despite the fact that he has long been an established star. Nadal will be remembered as one of the best players in the History of tennis, of course, but also as a role model who serves as an example of how to handle failure, and and, especially, success.

By now, you may well have lost count of how many years you’ve been at the top. What drives you to pick up the tennis racket each day?

The main thing that drives me to train each day is my passion for the sport and for competition. It’s something I like, so I enjoy doing it. It’s true I’ve been at it for years, and I can’t say I am the same as day 1 of my career, because it’s different now. But I still have this desire to better myself and keep improving my game.

Your mental fortitude seems intact. And your mindset has no doubt benefited from experience. Is the battle you’re now fighting against your own body? This year, you cancelled your tour of Asia because of your knee…

No, no, the whole issue of injuries is a hindrance, it doesn’t benefit me. In my case, I wish I hadn’t had injuries, or at least not so many of them. Injuries limit your capacity to compete.

How do you adapt your tennis playing to face the future after so many years of competing at the top and with so many younger players threatening to kick the door down.

We all need to adapt to the times. No just in sports, but in any other area of life. As far as tennis is concerned, it’s normal for players improve in their game and become more well-rounded player, so we have to keep getting better ourselves to stay at the top.

What professional challenges have you set for yourself for the next two or three years?

It’s hard to say. The main thing is to have physical endurance and be in shape to compete at the highest level.

How has tennis changed since you first began, when you were a child player going from tournament to tournament within the Balearic Islands?

Tennis in general has changed a lot over these years. That’s normal, it’s a law of nature in this sport. Evidently, my tennis playing has also evolved in every sense. It has changed in just about every respect, including technical aspects. But especially as far as speed.

Do you see any young players in the circuit who might be ready to take over the baton from the historic Nadal-Federer Djokovic triad?

There are a lot of players with great potential, but then you have to be there in every tournament and be constant. Maybe this constancy is still missing, but there’s definitely a lot of quality. It would be hard to point out one or two players in particular. LikeI said, there are many.

Do you remember the first tournament you won?

Yes, of course. My first ATP professional tournament was in Sopot, Poland. My first Grand Slam was Roland Garros.

What has been your most special tournament since that 2004 Davis Cup?

Fortunately, there have been many very special tournaments. I couldn’t possibly forget any of them. But no doubt Roland Garros is very special for me. Also Wimbledon 2008 with Federer, and Monte Carlo and Barcelona, two tournaments with a deep-rooted tradition behind them. Or my first tournament in Madrid, which was in an indoor court… I mean, I’ve had the chance to celebrate wins in many different places.

You’ve created the Rafa Nadal Academy by Movistar in order to not only initiate young players in the racket sport, but also teach them everything you’ve learned throughout your career. What are the fundamental rules that should be engraved in every student’s soul?

There are many, because, when it comes to athletic education, the work cannot be limited to simply teaching them to hit a ball or physical training. We try to transmit values that are also important for a person’s life. These are values that must also be present in sport.

Your professional career has very close ties to the Balearic Islands. You own several businesses with Abel Matutes Prats, including the restaurant Tatel, where Cristiano Ronaldo is also a partner. How would you define the restaurant’s concept?

I see it as a modern and contemporary concept. Travelling around the world playing tennis has given me the chance to visit many places with good restaurants, and I’ve tried concepts that I really liked a lot. Whenever I’m in Madrid, I usually have dinner at Tatel.

And, in November, you’re also opening your academy at Mexico’s new showpiece hotel, Palladium’s Grand Palladium Costa Mujeres Resort & Spa. What makes this new collaboration so noteworthy?

I think it’s a very interesting project in a beautiful place that will captivate anyone who visits it. I think that our center at this hotel will be very interesting for all tennis fans.

You are directly involved in your tennis academy, which is based in Manacor, in Mallorca. What advice would you give children, youngsters or adults who decide to sign up?

Yes, of course I’m involved. That’s crucial. To date, I’ve gotten very involved as far as the concept, and right now I’m training there. And when I’m not participating in a tournament, it’s also my training base. But I also like to be with the kids, train with them and participate in activities.

With this collaboration with Palladium, you’re inaugurating a new concept of sports tourism that focuses on top-level tennis.

Yes, that’s right. And we’re opening the first center at CostaMujeres. I think it’s going to be quite a hit, a real revolution.

What does this sort of highly demanding professional training contribute to a vacation in a paradise such as Costa Mujeres?

I think this formula offers the perfect combination between lounging at the beach on vacation and just the right amount of tennis for various levels.

What do you value the most about a partner when it comes to opening a business?

There are many things to take into account. Evidently, loyalty is an important factor. As is friendship. And, above all, know-how and being a good fit.

You are very familiar with Ibiza and Formentera, both their beaches and their leisure offerings. You have often been seen at Usuhaïa. What do you like about this venue that has revolutionized the market in Ibiza?

Since I’m from the Balearic Islands, I’m familiar with the islands and I like each and every one of them. Ibiza is world-famous, and Usuhaïa has managed to become a world leader. I think it offers one of the best atmospheres you can possibly find.

What do you think about the impact Usuhaïa has had in the hotel and music worlds? The brand is known all over the world.

It has managed to position itself worldwide and become known everywhere, and it’s also helped promote Spain and Illes Balears.

Do you like electronic music?

Not as much as I like Latin and Spanish music, to be honest…

After so many years of travelling almost every week, have you developed an aversion to airplanes or hotels? What is, for you, the worst part about living out of a suitcase?

No, no, I have no aversion at all. I think those of us who are at the top of the tennis world are tremendously fortunate, because we stay at good hotels and travel in comfortable airplanes. We are very fortunate, because we make a living doing the thing we love most. That’s the case with me.

Do you have as many obsessions in your day-to-day life as you do on the tennis court?

Not as many… but I do have some, which I’m not about to share (laughter).

What advice would you give parents of players with potential to reach the top?

Above all, that it should be something the boy or girl wants to do, and that they should enjoy it. You shouldn’t force them in that sense. It should be enjoyable for the child.

I understand you could have been a good soccer player and that you’re a loyal fan of Real Madrid.

I don’t know about that… Although, it I do really like soccer and I wasn’t all that bad. But I’m glad I chose tennis…

You know Cristiano Ronaldo. Are you sorry he left Real Madrid? Don’t you think Real Madrid will benefit from not having to play for a single player?

Yes, I know him and I think he’s done great things for Real Madrid. He’ll always be part of the history of the club.

One of your passions is the sea. And your friends. How do you imagine life after retirement?

I really like the sea, and I go sailing whenever I have the chance. That’s nothing new, I’ve liked it since I was a child.

Source: Palladium magazine

Interview with Rafael Nadal: I do have some obsessions, which I’m not about to share Our collective memory is full of milestones, situations and characters that connect us and help maintain social cohesion.

#interview #magazine #Rafael Nadal

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zoeykaytesmom · 6 years ago

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What is Life (Chapter 11)

@esparza-army @xemopeachx @tropes-and-tales @jramirezblogs @sweetsummertime99 @thatesparzacrush @barbafan69 @eclecticdeersuit

Izzy didn’t know how to act during the last few days of Rafael’s stay after he had told her he had thought about marrying her.

Things weren’t awkward but they didn’t do much, either. They didn’t even have sex. Was he serious? They were only 21, she had no idea what she wanted to do when she graduated college, let alone what she wanted in her personal life.

The last two nights, he still slept in her twin sized bed with her. He held her as tight as he could each night. He didn’t want to let her go at all.

They laid on her bed, watching “Mallrats” when he finally decided to say something.

“Did I scare you the other day?”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were talking about marriage. You’ve seemed distant since that day.”

“Did you really mean that?”

“I have loved you since…”

“Rafa we have too much…”

“Drama, history, I know. Look at everything we’ve dealt with.”

“Like you telling me you couldn’t talk to me because of Yelina?”

“Is that what we’re going to spend my last night here doing? Arguing?”

“No! I’m just…why me?”

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Do you know how much I missed you…”

“We’ve been through that.”

“I didn’t say I was going to propose tomorrow. I was just saying that you were the only person I could see myself making that kind of commitment with. I never saw that with Yelina. Only you.”

“Like how?” She asked.

“Like me becoming a lawyer, you doing…whatever it is you want to do. We’d have this big, beautiful ceremony in the church. A tropical honeymoon afterwards. Then, have a lot of kids.”

“A lot, huh?”

“Why not? We’re both good looking so they would be.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Look, like I said at Christmas, I don’t know what’s going to happen but I do know that I love you. Maybe we’re meant to be together, maybe we’re not. That’s not for either of us to know.”

“What if we’re not?”

“Then I guess we’ll end up alone or with the person we’re supposed to be with.”

“I guess so,” she replied quietly.

“I just want to enjoy what little bit more time we have together. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

*******

“So, I’ll see you this summer?” Izzy asked as he walked Rafael to his gate.

“I’m…uh…I’m taking a couple of classes this summer, actually.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll try to come to New York when I can.”

“No. Don’t spend money you don’t have to.”

“I want to see you, though.”

“American Airlines Flight 1693 to JFK now boarding”

“I gotta go,” he told her reluctantly.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Call me?”

“Sure. Call me when you get back to Harvard?”

“Of course, I will.”

He leaned in and kissed her one more time. She actually wanted to cry during it, thinking this would probably the last time she ever feel his lips on hers.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

***********

“And you went to the doctor?” Krystal asked.

“I’m 5 weeks a long,” Izzy told her as she cried.

“Have you told Rafael?”

“Not yet. I mean, he’s got enough on his plate right now. Besides, I don’t even know what I’m going to do right now.”

“Well, I know it’s ultimately your decision but you need to tell him at least.”

“I know,” she said as she laid back on her bed, holding a stuffed frog she had since she was a kid. “My parents are going to kill me.”

“How did this happen? I thought he used a condom.”

“That one time, we were really going at it and it broke but it looked full when he pulled it off. God, I can’t believe this.”

“Look, it’s gonna be fine.”

“How? I was raised abortion is murder but on the same hand, this will wreck Rafael’s life. I don’t have the plans he does. Hell, I don’t have any for that matter.”

“Doesn’t Harvard have like off campus living for families?”

“He would never be able to keep up with school or get into law school with a baby around.”

“You still need to tell him.”

“I will eventually. Right now, I just want to sleep.”

Sleep was the last thing Izzy was able to do, however. Her mind was swarmed with different thoughts. What was she going to do? How was she going to break the news to Rafael? How was he going to take the news?

*****************

“Are you sure?”

“I took three tests and the doctor confirmed it last week,” she told him over the phone. “Hello?”

“Y-yeah. I’m here.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone but I didn’t want to wait until we came home for the summer. I mean, I know you are taking classes…”

“I had actually changed my mind. I wasn’t able to get the loan I needed since my scholarship doesn’t cover summer courses.”

“Your parents wouldn’t co-sign for it?”

“Their credit is shot thanks to my dad. I couldn’t ask Abuelita. She lives on social security and Abuelito’s retirement. She wouldn’t have been approved either.”

“My dad would probably…”

“He’s the last person I would ask now. So…what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, Rafa. I’m sorry…”

“Hey, stop that. You didn’t make this baby alone,” he told her as his voice broke.

“But you have another year of college, then law school…I can’t let you throw any of that away.”

“I know we’re not technically together but I love you. This semester is almost over and we’ll be back in New York. We can work on a plan then, okay?”

“Okay. I mean I only have a small window if I’m going to have a…you know.”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly. They had both been raised Catholic and had been taught through the church that abortion, among many other things, were a sin basically. Izzy had always thought it was fine for someone else, it just wasn’t a choice for her.

Now she was trying to decide what choice was for her and Rafael.

They talked for a little while longer until he had to get to his evening class that day.

“I love you. Okay. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t. I love you, too, Rafael.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

****************

“You feeling okay?” Stella asked as she met her daughter at the airport.

“Yeah. Airplane food sucks.”

“You look like you need some sleep. Let’s get you home where you can lay down and get back on New York time. What do you say?”

“Sounds good, Ma,” she replied with a small smile.

“Tony will be home in a few days so you can have some peace and quiet until then.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she shrugged.

“You don’t seem like it.”

“Just this last year is coming up and I still haven’t decided what I want to do when I graduate,” she lied.

“You have a little bit to figure it out. Don’t let it ruin your summer. I’m sure as soon as Erin gets in from Chicago, you two will hardly be at home.”

“Ma?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“N-never mind.”

“What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything.”

“What would you say you are, pro-life or pro-choice?”

“Well, I guess to me…it’s up to the woman. It’s not my business and I don’t believe it should be the government’s either. Looks like that makes me pro-choice. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondered.”

Before pulling out of the parking spot, Stella turned to her daughter, turning off the key to her Ford Explorer.

“Elizabeth are you pregnant?”

Tears just filled her brown eyes as she slowly nodded. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Oh, baby, shhh,” she told her as she took her daughter in her arms and stroked her hair. “Rafael?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah, I told him.”

“How did he take the news?”

“Just kind of took it. He didn’t get angry or anything. I don’t want to ruin his life.”

“What are you two going to do?”

“We’re going to talk when he gets home from Harvard.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t tell Dad yet, please.”

“Of course, I won’t. Why didn’t you already tell me?”

“I knew you’d be disappointed in me. I’m throwing away college, I’m ruining Rafael’s life.”

“You can always transfer to NYU or Fordham or St. John’s. We can always figure this out but you and Rafael have to make your decision first.”

“I know.”

“Let’s get you home and get you some rest.”

***************

It seemed like Izzy had slept for 24 hours straight when it was only about 3.

“Hey, Izz?”

“Yeah, Ma?”

“You have company.”

“Okay,” she said as she sat up and stretched.

“Go on in,” Stella said as she opened the door for Rafael to walk in. She closed the door to give them privacy.

Rafael sat on the bed he had lost his virginity in and held his head in his hands for a minute. He finally looked up, tears at the brim of his eyes. He took Izzy in his arms and they both just started crying.

“I’ve thought a lot about this and I’m gonna support whatever decision you make.”

“Raf…”

“Look, I can still go to law school. I can apply for scholarships for Columbia, Fordham…”

“Harvard has always been your dream,” she interrupted. “I can’t let you give that up.”

“I can’t leave you alone with our baby and you’re not going back to California. If we have this baby, you are staying here.”

“You want to have this baby, don’t you?”

“Only if you do.”

“We were taught one thing, we believe a different thing, but then here we are having to balance both of those to decide what’s right or wrong.”

“I know. Like I said, I will support you no matter what. ¿Entiendes?”

She just nodded.

“So?”

“So, I guess we’re having a baby.”

“I think we should make us official by now, too,” he chuckled through his tears. “I mean you’re not just some girl I picked up in a bar. I’ve loved you for so long.”

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed with a smile.

He took her face lightly in his hands and kissed her. It was even better than the last one when he left California.

***************

“Okay, we can’t tell you two what to do. Rafael I do not want your studies suffering. I’ll make sure you have a way home on the weekends and holidays,” Anthony told them after they had broken the news and had given him time to process it. “We will take care of her and the baby while you’re getting your degree and when you go to law school. I know it’s gonna be hard for you to basically be a part time dad at first but they’ll both be fine.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“What did your parents say?”

“Well, I’m here with nowhere to stay other than Abuelita’s.”

“You know better than that. Although, if you are going to stay here over the summer, just like Tony and Izzy, I want you to get a job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I might can find something down at the firehouse for you to do in the office. It would be 8-4. Mainly filing, some data entry stuff. Nothing too much.”

Stella and Izzy both looked at each other knowing that Anthony had already set it up.

“I can’t believe your parents kicked you out.”

“It wasn’t Mami, really.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Anthony scoffed.

“Izzy you did get your stuff from USC…”

“It was being faxed to NYU, Fordham, St. John’s, and Queens College.”

“Okay. Have you found a doctor yet?”

“Yes, sir. I have my first appointment with her next week.”

“Rafael make sure you let Loretta in the office know you’ll need your lunch break at whatever time that appointment is.”

“Sure.”

“Alright. I guess that’s it for now. I always thought Tony would be the one to make us grandparents so young.”

“Anthony.”

“Oh, Stella, I’m just teasing. Well, I’m being serious but my daughter could’ve done a lot worse. You, however, Rafael, could do better.”

“Dad!!!”

“I’ve seen you when you first wake up.”

“Leave her alone. She’s carrying your grandchild.”

“You two get out of here,” he said with a chuckle as he playfully poked Stella. He waited until they were out of the kitchen. “Can they do this?”

“I sure hope so, Anthony. Izzy’s more worried about Rafael than anything.”

“We’ll just have to do what we can to help them. Your parents helped us.”

“True and I was around Izzy’s age when I had her and Tony.”

“The only difference is we were married.”

“Yeah and if you’ll remember, they came almost 9 months after our wedding. They would’ve if I hadn’t been a month early.”

“I’ve always told you they loved each other.”

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rauliskafan · 7 years ago

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A Hard Lesson in Incrimination: Chapter 13

Authors’ Note: Now that the truth is out, Rafael returns home. But have his wounds healed? And how can Natalia help him? Read on for the final chapter of this installment of our “Hard Lesson” series!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I cannot thank you enough for your feedback, and we promise more story very soon!!!

It was as if he’d been absent for years, and when Rafael laid eyes on Violetta and the twins, an ache intensified. His little girls seemed to have grown so much during the past few weeks; he couldn’t bring himself to imagine what more he might have lost if he still languished behind bars. Sighing, he looked in on Violetta playing with Ashtonja and Harold. To his muñequita, all was right in the world because her Papi was back.

But Rafael was far from home. He stayed miles away as that night in the dark replayed in his mind. Sometimes there would be moments where it started to fade. Then it would return in flashes. Flashes that stung harshly and caused him to wince with fresh pain.

“Atticus?” Natalia’s voice brought him back from his island of endless, unwanted thoughts. Glancing up, he offered her a small smile.

“Yes, hermosa?”

“You have a visitor, but if you’re not up to it—” Natalia began to say, but Rafael shook his head, needing the distraction

“I’m fine,” Rafael replied. “Who is it?”

“Me… I hope this is a good time,” Liv said as poked her head in the living room.

“Come, sit,” Rafael said before looking back to his wife. “Thank you, hermosa. I’ll help you with the twins in a bit.”

“We’ll be waiting,” she said, giving Liv’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

When he was sure Natalia was out of ear shot, Rafael spoke to his friend.

“What brings you by” he asked. “I thought Noah had a painting class.”

“Bill brought him,” she answered.

“Everything alright there?” Rafael inquired.

“Getting there… everything else is a little crazy with Amanda on desk duty. But I have Carisi. And Fin. So I decided to steal a second to see how you were doing... and to tell you that Miranda Pond is representing Cutter.”

Rafael’s brow arched. “After everything that son of a bitch did?”

“The woman likes a challenge,” Liv replied. “She’s going to work the self-defense angle. Maybe throw in some temporary insanity.”

“Insanity was falling for Eve’s charms in the first place,” Rafael hissed.

“I agree. She started this whole mess. But Cutter ended it.

“And nothing is forgiven.” Leaving the sofa, he began to pace around the room, thoughts swirling through his head as he tried to set himself right. But how could he explain? What would bring the silent rage to a stop?

“Liv? I feel as if I’ve asked you this once before… but if you can, tell me. How did you cope?”

“After Lewis?” she knowingly asked.

“Yeah.

He watched her face cloud over before a brilliant smile broke through the fog.

“You know the answer to that question, Rafa,” she said, her brown eyes drifting to a picture of Natalia and their three little girls. His own emerald gaze focused on the photograph, and he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I need to keep remembering that.”

“And I need to get going,” she said. “Noah wants to make cupcakes. With hot chocolate on the side.”

“Don’t forget the marshmallows,” Rafael commented with a smirk.

“I sure won’t.” She started to pull on her coat and sling her bag over her shoulder. Almost at the doorway, she stopped and turned to Rafael. “If you ever need a sidebar, you know where to find me.”

"Thanks, Liv. I’m holding you to that.”

“We have lots of food!” Violetta cried as she watched her two grandmothers pack some dishes away in the refrigerator. “No need to go shopping, Mami.”

The women laughed, and Natalia kissed the top of her sweet pea’s head. “Well then I guess that means we have more time to do fun stuff and catch up with Papi.”

“Also feed Hazel and Holly,” Violetta said, rolling her eyes and continuing to color a unicorn with Ashtonja by her side.

“I got that, Natalia,” Ashtonja said, reaching for the bottles.

“Thank you, Ash. I’ll be up soon.” Natalia promised while Alessia slipped into her coat.

“Well, everything is set… call me if you need anything,” she said. “I’ll bring Pop Pop by tomorrow. With a certain lady who knows a princess!”

Violetta clapped, and Natalia smiled at the thought of seeing Harker again. Of thanking her for everything…

…of Fin joining them per the chief inspector’s request.

“Tell Pop Pop I say hi,” Violetta giggled with a wave.

“And I’ll also be back in the morning to help you with breakfast, Natalia.” Lucia said before taking her daughter-in-law aside.

“He’s… he wouldn’t really talk to me about it,” Lucia continued. “Is he alright?”

“He will be,” Natalia said. “It’s just going to take some time.”

Smiling sadly, she hugged Natalia and started to follow Alessia out the door. Just as they were leaving, a cab pulled up to the curb. They seemed surprised to see Maggie and Dodds emerge, the couple’s hellos mingling with their goodbyes. The sergeant smiled, his greeting warm. Maggie still seemed distant… cold…

…but Violetta excitedly ran to her aunt.

“Tia Maggie! Tio Mike! Where you been? I missed you!” The little girl hugged the ballerina’s legs, and Maggie bent down to hug her close.

“I know, Little V,” she said. “I missed you, too.”

Dodds gave Natalia a quick kiss as Rafael joined them. When first she saw him, Maggie’s face stayed blank. Eventually, she extended her arms to embrace him.

Yet a layer of ice seemed to linger between the sisters.

“Have a seat,” Rafael said.

“I want to check on the twins,” Maggie replied.

Violetta was quick to lead her aunt up the stairs, and Natalia sighed.

“She’s still upset?” she murmured.

“IAB isn’t done with me yet,” Dodds admitted.

“Oh, Mike, I’m---”

“It’s okay, Natalia,” he said. “Could be worse. And Maggie... well she...”

“She’s here,” Rafael said. “You both are.”

“And we’re happy about that,” Natalia said.

Because at least it was a start.

“Stay with me a while longer, Papi,” Violetta pleaded as she snuggled deeper into Rafael’s arms.

“Of course,” he promised, stretching out in her big girl bed, following along as she read from her picture book.

“Papi?”

“Si, muñequita?”

Setting the book aside, Violetta touched her father’s face.

“Don’t ever go away again,” Violetta whispered. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the image of how sad… how scared she must have been when Natalia arrived home alone, leaving his little girl to wonder…

“I’m here, Violetta. I’m here.”

But for the moment, it was all that he could promise.

Once Violetta drifted off to sleep with the sound of his song, Rafael retired to the nursery to check on the twins. Natalia watched from the doorway as her husband kissed Hazel and Holly goodnight. Smiling faintly as he lowered the lights and moved towards her, Rafael took her hand and let her lead him to their bed.

“You are the best medicine for our babies. You are their best guy… don’t ever forget that.” Natalia kissed his cheek. “And you are mine, Atticus. We’re all going to be alright.”

“I… a part of me wonders if that’s possible.”

“It’s not… not possible?” Natalia echoed, clutching his hand a little tighter. She studied his face, taking note of the worry lines forming around his green gaze, the light no longer shining in his stare. Only gone from her side for a little while and yet something had shifted…

…shattered. Was it beyond repair?

“Talk to me, Atticus,” she ventured, treading lightly as she pressed her free hand to his brow. Relieved when he didn’t flinch, she still watched and waited as he obviously gathered the too many thoughts floating through his mind before they started to trickle off his tongue.

“Because turnabout is fair play?” he quipped back. The sass in his tone brought a small smile to her face, and Natalia cupped his cheek as she peered into his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she said softly

“There were times when I wanted truths from you.” Blinking suddenly and just turning her chin into her shoulder, letting her hand fall away, Natalia felt the memories of Robert Emerson, of Nevada Ramirez wash over her, murky waters that always threatened to pull her down and take her to places without light, with no air.

“Forgive me, hermosa,” Rafael quickly said. His lips dotted her temple, and he ran his large hands up and down her arms until he laced their fingers together. “I don’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s fine,” she started slowly, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “This isn’t about… what do you need?”

“Just like that?” he asked nervously.

“Always like that,” she assured him, inching closer and wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips finding his ear on the back of a whisper. “After all the times you’ve been there for me… anything, Atticus. You can cry or scream or smash a window.”

“I’m tired of crying,” he muttered. “And the last thing we need is glass everywhere.”

“You know what I mean,” Natalia said, feeling her cheeks flush. Now she kept him at a small distance and watched his face as he inhaled a sharp breath and finally spoke.

“What happened… what he did… to me…” His speech stalled, the image somehow hanging in the air between them. Something Natalia hated imagining; something she loathed even more because it was far too real for her husband.

“Go on,” she gently prodded. Rafael bit his lip, and she worried that he would pull away, thinking that he had to be strong and choke the memory down. That wouldn’t work… especially between them. Now the deep breath was hers to take, and Natalia was ready to step into the minefield that had to be his soul, to choose her words carefully and hope that she wouldn’t set off an explosion when he stunned her by dropping his head to her shoulder…

…as she had so many times when the songs in the air were sweet and all was well in their corner of the universe.

“It’s not that I can’t get past it,” he continued determinedly. “I will get past it.”

“I know that, Atticus,” she told him, fighting back her tears and winding an arm around his waist. Her lips fell to the top of his head, and she drew him closer.

“But it makes… it makes me think of all…”

When his voice began to fade, Natalia looked down to see his eyes flickering, his lips curling over his teeth.

“…of all the victims… through all the years,” he continued, his tone softer and strangled. “How many times have I tried to empathize? Listened and nodded my head as if I understood?”

How many nights had she seen him come home in the pitch black, tortured by tales from the shadows that she saw follow him into sleep?

Before she could answer his questions---

“Never,” Rafael continued. “Never once did I understand what it really feels like. It’s… it’s everything ripped away at once. Things you’ve counted on, the way the world is supposed to work…”

Swallowing a sob, he inched from her side, his head collapsing into his hands.

“It’s just gone,” he said in a muffled voice.

“I know, Atticus,” Natalia replied, tentatively rubbing his back. Looking at her through his fingers, Rafael appeared far more scared, more hurt than he had in any moment since he returned home.

“Atticus, I… I didn’t mean to---”

“Oh, Natalia.”

Shooting up quickly, he hugged her tightly, his lips lost in her hair.

“Of course, you know,” he murmured into her honey-colored locks. “With Emerson, that bastard Conway… Ramirez.”

The last name on the list still had the power to sting like the worst wasp, and she couldn’t help but shudder against her husband as he placed one finger under her chin.

“I… all this time… I thought I knew what it was like for you, hermosa. But I never imagined this.”

“Atticus, there’s no shame… no guilt in that.”

“Maybe,” he said, cutting her off and cradling her face in his hands. “Maybe not. But if… if I had known… I would have done so much more. For so many. Especially for you. I feel I didn’t do enough.”.

“Never say that,” Natalia whispered, trying to stop his trembling. “I’d still be crying in front of my mother’s Christmas tree if it wasn’t for you.”

The attempt at a joke was weak, but it brought a smile to his lips as he smoothed a few strands of hair from her face.

“I want more,” Rafael said. “For both of us.”

“What more is there?” she asked.

“To erase the past,” he said. “To cut into time and take it away. So you never have to think about it.”

Natalia let the idea fill her mind. It was tempting…

…and yet…

“But what if… what if erasing changed all of it?”

Rafael looked at her, confused, and now Natalia placed her head on his shoulder, the music back in her mind when he was this close.

“I mean… what if it took away everything that came after?” she asked.

“Why would it have to---?”

“Pull one string, and the blanket starts to fall apart,” Natalia reasoned. “And I wouldn’t want that. I’ll take a few dark days… however many fate wants to throw our way as long as I get this… more of this life with you.”

Rafael’s lip quivered, and Natalia caressed his face. He exhaled, his breath warm and sweet, and she claimed his kiss as they sank back to the pillows. Even when their lips unlocked, she kept her eyes on his, saw him trying desperately to work his way back to her.

“Atticus, I will help you,” she promised.

“I know, hermosa. I just… it’s…”

“Different,” she said, finishing his thought. “I know. But now it’s my turn. Let me finally bring you in out of the rain.”

The sparkle in his stare was more tears than she ever wanted to see, and Natalia let him sob into her shoulder, shivering until his voice was spent. After enduring that heartbreaking sound, she placed one palm on his chest, felt his breathing, his heartbeat calm.

“Will you let me do that?” she asked.

“Yes, hermosa,” he murmured, giving her a quick kiss. “I can’t… I won’t lie to you. There will be more dark days. Long nights.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m here. And maybe it won’t be as black as you think.”

“What will it be then?” Rafael hopefully asked, and she snuggled into the crook of his neck, kissing him there.

“The shadows bringing us closer together,” she said. “And when they start to drift into nothingness, there will be you. Me. Our girls. And home, Atticus. Where we all belong.”

Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved his wedding ring. Rafael offered his hand without a word, and Natalia slowly slipped the golden band onto his finger, remembering the moment they married, every delightful and dark day after. She wanted more of all of it, and she lovingly stroked his face.

“Till death do us part,” she said.

“I don’t want to think about that, Natalia.”

“Then forever and a day, Atticus. Until the end of time.”

Their lips touched, and she brought the sheets over their bodies. His hand stayed in hers, and Natalia laid their locked fingers atop the quilt, smiling.

“A little better?” she asked.

Propping his body up on his elbow, Rafael threaded his fingers through her hair. Maybe it was the moonlight filtering through the glass.

Or something else giving him back the eyes from that first night she saw him, from the day he spoke their vows, from every instant when he looked at the girls…

…and her.

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. For saving me. For giving me the home to come back to.”

His head was on her shoulder again, and Natalia kissed his temple, her eyes never leaving his.

“Te amo, Rafael,” she promised over and over until his lids grew heavy and he gave into sleep.

And the music that was their hearts beating in time seemed to connect to the stars, lighting their way ahead for whatever would come next… after…

...and always.

#raúl esparza #rafael barba #natalia barba #olivia benson #mike dodds #maggie dodds #violetta barba #lucia barba #ashtonja abreu #a hard lesson series #a hard lesson in incrimination #law & order: svu #svu fanfiction

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