Chapter Text
“YOU KILLED MY SON!! OUR SON!!”
Barba sat up straight, taking in a sharp breath and snapping his eyes open. Cold sweat ran down his spine and his heart was beating a lot faster than he would be comfortable. If he tried to shut his eyes to calm his unstable, ragged breathing down, a dark hospital room was shown as an afterimage, and a sharp monotone sound of the heart monitor which was heard as soon as the life support was turned off rang in his ear. Barba turned the nightstand on after he searched for it on the small table beside the bed with his eyes which are not adjusted to the dark yet.
It was always like this.
The kid’s parents blaming him, the squad isolating him, or his colleagues pointing a finger at him by calling him a murderer, not to mention the trial itself. Even worse, him having a hard time around the prisoners in the Rikers, wearing a humiliating orange suit. As soon as his breathing and heart rate became a normal state, he got off the bed and opened the curtains. The sky was showing a light shade of blue. The sun will rise soon after. Barba sighed, drinking a glass of water at the counter with a slightly trembling hand. He couldn’t sleep after lying on the bed again.
Iowa.
He chose this place, with no connection, because of that very characteristic. He ran away to arrive here where no one recognises him. He wanted to get away from the question anybody who knew him would ask. Iowa was far quieter and more peaceful compared to New York City. No one will know who he is, or why he came here, and they will not even be curious about that. Sometimes, he thought that no one is living near him. The only person he interacted with was a psychiatrist whose office was downtown, 30 minutes away from Barba’s home by car.
To be honest, he did not think of getting therapy back then when he got a not-guilty verdict, as he was relaxed by the fact that he got away from the horrible mouth of Rikers Island. However, when he was in Paris for a month after resigning from the prosecution to which he devoted half of his life, all the thoughts he disregarded flooded his brain. He believed it was the right decision without the guilt sitting in the deepest of his heart while he was sitting next to the defense attorney, but questions and skepticism regarding whether that was the right thing kept floating around his head. Loneliness was suffocating, but ironically he did not want to keep someone next to him.
He searched for a psychiatrist first as soon as getting home, although he was not sure how long he will stay because of those contradicting feelings. While talking details about the situation, the former ADA pretended the kid who flew over to heaven was his son. It would be too easy to figure out who he is if he told him the whole truth. Barba always had a soft spot for suffering young kids, reflecting on himself when he was about their age. Because of that, pretending to be his father was not so difficult. Well, the doctor might have found out that something is weird, then he must be an expert in poker facing.
‘Don't blame yourself too much.’
Barba wanted so badly to say that anyone is capable of giving that comment, dripping with sarcasm.
‘You think it was the best option for your boy, don't you?’
‘No idea. I was not in his position, but yes, I want to believe so. Otherwise, it feels like something is swallowing me.’
The doctor prescribed some sleeping pills as he was told that Barba was unable to fall asleep. After he could fall asleep without the assistance of the pill, whether he was suffering from the nightmare or not, he did not go to see the doctor. Even though he still followed the deep breath and mind-controlling process he learned that is useful whenever the nightmare or the guilt washed him over.
Barba closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, but unfortunately, it did not seem to be helpful enough tonight. It was probably because of the Innocence Project case he counseled a few days ago. The defendant looked so much like...him. Eventually, he sat up, mindlessly moving his fingers above his cellphone. His thumb found its way to the address naturally since he frequently used call, text, and email. Scrolling through it, most of the numbers belong to people from New York. His hometown was a city he could go back anytime-He is still paying for all the money he should pay in order to keep his house. Of course, he knew it was a waste of money, but he also was aware of the fact that he cannot get another house like the currently vacant one for that amount of money. NYC's housing is that expensive.—but he did not have the nerve to go back yet. The sun was peeking its flame through the curtains.
Benson, Calhoun, Carisi, Fin. Barba's deftly moving finger stopped.
Y/F/N.
‘I’m saying that you should not bury yourself alone when you are feeling stuck because of the case. You can always talk to me, even if you can’t talk to others. I understand.’
She answered nonchalantly when he turned around her, surprised by her fluently reciting the defense’s strategy and plan: I worked as a paralegal before I became a detective. After realizing that, Barba and Y/N got closer. Although Barba failed to define their relationship, it was a different one from his and Benson’s friendship. They talked about the case numerous times whenever its ending was not clear, sitting side by side. He frequently talked about the 8th floor and 1pp’s pressure with Benson, but he liked discussing with Y/N since they could only talk about the case and law themselves.
To be honest, he wanted to talk about his last case with her so badly. If he did not turn off the machine, they would’ve been able to talk about it while sitting at the bar, with bitter feelings. If so, he would be still prosecuting SVU cases along with her help, despite some nightmares. He felt sorry about that. But he already realized that law cannot be the master key. For the first time, his passionate fire died. She said she liked his sense of duty, and he could not say goodbye to her. Maybe for that reason? His footstep was heavy like a rock when he turned around, saying goodbye to Benson in front of the courthouse after he gave in the papers.
Y/N:
[Good for you, counselor. See you next week!]
He read the message but didn’t reply. He did not show up at the squad room or 1 Hogan Place next week, next month, and next year.
‘It’s because of our case, right?’
He suddenly missed that voice, that rang in his ear when she sat beside him smoothly. If he could listen to it one more time, wouldn't this feeling of squeezing his heart disappear? Now his phone was indicating that it was 9 AM. (He would never be at home at this time back when he was an ADA, but it didn’t matter now since he is working at home.) New York should be 8 now. Barba pressed the dial button quite impulsively. A monotonous sound rang in the quiet house. Barba licked his dried lips. Sunlight of Iowa lighted his bed. He preferred day to night these days.
‘I like night too. I want to lie in somewhere all the stars shining beautifully above the sky.’
He once heard that from her. The sky above his house is full of the stars on clear nights.
“Hello?”
A voice came through just at the same time Barba considered hanging up. He was a little sorry since she sounded like still swimming in her sleep. Now that the line was connected, he could not figure out what to say.
“Hello?”
The voice asked again, and Barba licked between his lips and opened his mouth.
“I'm not disturbing you, am I?”
Silence stretched out between them. The lawyer got nervous and pointlessly soothed his disheveled hair.
“.....Barba?”
He changed his phone number. He was glad she got the phone, despite the unfamiliar series of numbers. It’s been a long time since he felt this good to hear his name. A small smile stretched his face.
“Hey.”
“Wha— Where are you? What are you doing? Are you— Are you okay?”
It seemed like chaos over the phone. Maybe he surprised her too much in the early morning, just before going to work?
“One question at a time, detective.”
Barba rolled his eyes, his heart weirdly filling with relief.
“Okay. Um...where the hell are you?”
“Iowa.”
“Iowa??! What the hell are you doing there?”
“Resting. Sometimes working.”
She was silent, figuring out something to say.
“Um…uh, long…long time no see, Barba.”
Since when did their dialogue seem so awkward like this?
“Indeed. How have you been?”
“Well, uh…fairly good. You?”
“I’m fine.”
“I- Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, just- I suddenly remembered what you said before.”
“Me…? What?”
“That I should not bury myself alone.”
He answered nonchalantly, and she took a sharp breath in.
“Oh my god. Are you still—”
“It’s fine. I should be with it forever.”
Barba chuckled nervously.
“I called you all of a sudden, right? You must be going to work. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Hey, will you come back?”
“I will think about it more. I gotta go, Y/F/N.”
“Barba, wait!”
“Hmm?”
“It's— It's good to hear your voice.”
“So do I. So—”
“Will I see you again?”
Her voice showed some expectation.
“Maybe.”
“Talk to you soon, Barba.”
“Sure, Y/F/N.”
Barba’s heart felt much more light. Maybe he should visit the City soon.
She replayed the long-time-no-heard voice again an hour later than Iowa, drinking a coffee. She blamed him a lot and was concerned about him a lot too. She could not get her mind straight, hating the fact that he just left with that decision, but simultaneously also his sad face was floating around her. Rafael Barba was the best lawyer among lots of them she met. It was also him that she relied on the most since she dreamed of being a lawyer. She was able to sit with him alone because she was so comfortable around him, but it felt so empty after he was gone.
She literally hated Peter Stone, the new ADA, who prosecuted Barba. Y/N who always respected the ADA’s opinion was gone and replaced by a detective who always fought with the man. She drew a guard up, feeling like everyone is turning their back to Barba calling him a defendant, led by Stone even though she knew that was an inevitable process. Barba was like a taboo in the squad room. When she suggested what Barba would do sometimes out of habit, she was met with uncomfortable eyes. At first, they were all alerted by the appearance of Stone, but they all turned back from the former ADA who they trusted so much—except Carisi, who passed the BAR thanks to Barba. He said the seat in the Forlini’s belonged to Barba?—for six years.
Y/N did not. She felt terrible about Barba’s absence, but she thought it would be better for him to stay away, not seeing that very situation. Instead, she suffered from all the pain that Barba would experience for him.
‘He's not a criminal. You HEARD that verdict!’
‘Y/N, stop.’
‘He was the best ADA. You don't even underst—’
‘Y/N. Go home and take some rest.’
She had to go home early or stay at the desk frequently because of that. However, she never regretted those times. She just missed him.
Then Barba, who left without a word, call her after one and a half years. Frankly, she thought the voice was her own illusion, but his sass woke her up reminding her that it was reality. She felt like her heart was leaping out of her chest hearing that he thought of her words. It felt weird that at least he did not forget her as it seemed like the lawyer left everything behind. It was like her emptiness is being filled again.