AN: starting after Townhouse Incident.

He knew he had to give her time. He knew she must be processing right now, and that she'd been through something difficult. He knew that he needed to let her have a while to be upset, to recover. But he just wanted to be with her as soon as possible. He just wanted to see her face and remember that she was completely fine and he would see her countless more times. He didn't want to be thinking of that van anymore, thinking about how hopeless he was sitting there as the woman he was in love with was being held hostage and being beaten and forced to hear a teenager get raped. He wished he could forget it all, but the feeling of panic remained broiling within him and he feared that it would remain there until he saw her, until he talked to her.

So he watched the clock.

While still shaken, Olivia felt much better after laying Noah down in bed and consuming a glass of wine. The events of the day were hard. Her own physical abuse was something which she barely even considered, a thought which hardly crossed her mind. It was nothing. The only thing that bothered her was the constant replay in her head of a teenage girl getting raped just one room over as she sat, a detective who was supposed to stop these kinds of things, and did absolutely nothing. She knew she couldn't have done anything—for once, guilt was something with which she was not overridden. But it was still a terrifying and sickening thought and it would still haunt her, she knew, for as long as any other traumatic experience had haunted her. Not much was difficult now, after everything that had happened with Lewis. But when it came to someone else being at the end of the abuse, everything was much harder. She hadn't just dismissed the rape she'd listened to as a bad part of a day. It seemed like everyone had forgotten or was refusing to acknowledge with significance that the rape had occurred. Everyone was seemingly celebratory that everyone had gotten out alive. But there was nothing to celebrate. The father of the household had been injured to a near-fatal degree, and a teenage girl had been raped. Nobody got out unscathed. It had been traumatizing for everyone involved. It was no minor incident and it was nothing she would forget any time soon.

But the knock on her door was more than welcome, and certainly helped.

"Barba?" she said, surprised to see him there. She didn't know who she'd expected, but not him. She hadn't seen him in a month; he acted as if he hardly cared about her and he likely didn't know what had happened. He looked like shit, his hair tousled, shirt halfway unbuttoned although not revealing much, and his eyes were puffy—not indicative of crying, but more of exhaustion.

He gave her a half smile. It would have been the same one he usually gave her if it didn't show a hint of some sadness or frustration or fear underneath. "Liv. I wanted to come check on you."

Hm. Apparently he did know about the day's events. Olivia opened her door wider, encouraging him to come inside. "I'm fine, Barba. Thank you though."

They both remained standing, him doing so because he felt too much adrenaline to be seated and her because she felt that it would be awkward if she were seated while he wasn't. His half smile faded off his face and he gave her a more grave look.

"I realized something today," he said. He stared at her sheepishly, clearly unsure of or nervous about whatever he was about to say.

Olivia stared at him intently, and some force told her that he was about to say something important. She felt it before the words spilled out of his mouth.

"I cannot fucking breathe when I think about things like losing you to some piece of shit criminal," he said, his words thick with emotion. His forehead cast shadows over his eyes, but in the small parts that were visible, Olivia could see a puppy-dog sadness about them.

She didn't know what to say and she wasn't sure where this was going, even though she knew where she hoped it was going, so she decided not to say anything until he was completely finished. She did, however, step closer to him to read him better. He made eye contact for a moment, his eyes flitting back and forth synchronously with hers, but they dropped back down as he spoke again, finding it difficult to find the courage to look her in the eyes.

"You know that I care, of course you do," he said dubiously, his tone indicating that he obviously wasn't done. "But…" his voice trailed off.

Seeing that he was having difficulty, Olivia stepped closer again and put her hand over his forearm. "But?"

Not able to say anything more, Barba looked up finally, meeting her eyes again. He still had that child-like fear in them, that total lack of confidence as well as sadness.

"I've never been able to not talk before," he said, giving a tiny, bitter chuckle and looking down quickly, and then back up at her before his face was yet again overcome with frustration. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he flipped his hand around and squeezed hers which had been resting on it, and then used it to pull her forward. One of his arms came up from his side and snaked around her back. Realization flashed through Olivia's eyes as she finally understood with certainty what was happening, and Barba couldn't tell if the realization was positive or negative for her. In fear of finding out that it was negative, he lunged forward and met her lips with his before he could give himself enough time to back out. He had to do this. He had to make sure she knew all the way, no confusion. So he kissed her, firmly but slowly, as he was savoring her, not rushing it. This might be the only time he got to do this.

When Barba broke the kiss, remaining only centimeters from her mouth, Olivia at first pulled back. But she saw his face, his desperate and already-rejected face, and immediately she pushed her lips back to his in an act of passionate guilt she felt for making him think for even a moment that she was not absolutely in love with him. He kissed her with a tenderness unparalleled by any man she'd ever been with. She pulled back for air only for tiny moments in between the heated passion. One of her hands rested on his neck while the other was wrapped around his back, and one of his hands was tangled in her hair, using this control to tilt her head back and kiss her a few times on the jaw, neck, and cheek. She was overcome with elation within moments as she felt so intensely satisfied that she nearly whimpered, but thankfully didn't, as he surely would have teased her for that later on. She realized with great certainty that this desire of hers was finally reaching satisfaction and she was with somebody she desperately needed to be with—she hadn't realized how desperately she had needed him before now.

Barba damn near couldn't control himself as all of his desire released on her within the kiss. Every time he'd wanted to do this with her was in the back of his mind as he enjoyed her to the greatest extent. He was sure she felt the pent-up sexual tension as well as emotional love he felt for her all at once as he was passionate and intense but nevertheless incredibly tender. When they finally broke apart for good, after a moment of pure shock, a tiny smile formed on Olivia's face before she spoke.

"Sometimes not talking is best."

AN: I desperately hope this was satisfying for you guys and was reasonably in-character! It was very hard for me to picture and my writer's block lately has been horrible, so I really had to force myself to write this chapter, it didn't flow naturally at all. But I needed to make Barson happen finally! I hope it was still enjoyable, please let me know in the reviews! I really want to know if I'm capable of writing quality stuff even when I'm not feeling the vibe. Thanks! xoxo