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Flickering
By : Bucken-Berry
Category: G through L > Law & Order
Views: 1521 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU; no profit is being made.
Chapter List
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A/N: I can't believe it's been an entire year since I wrote Fading Away!
Thanks for your responses for chapter one. This 'verse is very sad and at times hard to write, so your support makes it all worth it.
Just a quick note on continuity that I meant to put on the first chapter but forgot (and will address in the story at some point but not for a while)- I wrote Fading Away before the SaveBenson arc, when all that was known was that the episode Her Negotiation would place Olivia in mortal danger. As a result, in my universe, Olivia was never tortured- that would simply be too much cruelty. All that happened was that Lewis showed up at her house and Olivia immediately grabbed her gun and shot him, which is what Warren Leight would have written if he had had half a brain.
This chapter takes place in the weeks after Rafael's relapse. Warning: you WILL cry when you read it. I cried like a baby while writing it.

Before, Rafael Barba had never been a man who dwelt on the past. He wasn't interested in the if onlys or what ifs. But now the bitter thoughts bounced in his head, adding another dimension to his pain. It wasn't enough that he was now a dying man; his mind had to torment him with images of the life he could have had too.
He thought of all the places he'd traveled that he'd never get to show her.
He thought of the birthdays, the holidays, the life events he'd never get to share with her.
He thought of that sleek ring in the jewelry shop down the street that he had been eying for weeks. It would go to someone else now. Some other woman would get what should have been Olivia's, should have been his to give her.
He'd never get to ask that one question, wouldn't get to feel his heart pounding in his chest as he grasped the box in his pocket. Wouldn't get to watch her walk down the aisle, alone but happier for it. Wouldn't get to feel his mouth go dry when he saw her dress.
He wouldn't get to give her the things she wanted so desperately; he never would give her a child, never would give her the stability and love she craved. All he would bring her was more loss and abandonment.
Olivia had promised, that terrible night, that she didn't blame him, but he couldn't see it. How could she not mind that he was leaving her? He was doing what everyone else had done. He shouldn't have eaten so poorly, shouldn't have smoked back in college, should have exercised more.
A tear slipped through his clenched eyelids and he remembered the day he had been so terrified of getting sick again, remembered Olivia stroking his back and shushing him like he was a frightened child. He'd never be able to return the favor. He'd took and took and took and had told himself he'd give later, but now he never would be able to return all those favors.
Olivia, of course, wouldn't have thought of them as favors. She would have seen them as part of love. And he did too, but the fact remained that he had never been able to show her the love she had shown him, because his illness had robbed him of all his chances.
That bitter feeling was flowing through him again, cresting and crashing like a tsunami. Why did it have to be him? Why now? Why couldn't he have had even a year, half a year, of good health before relapsing? Why couldn't the tumor have been treatable again?
The tears were falling quicker now, like salty raindrops, and it was all he could do not to sob and draw Olivia's attention. He thought about where they would be now had he stayed better. They could be in Gstaad at this very moment, skiing down the steep slopes, Olivia teasing that she would have thought him a better skiier than this. And he'd make a joke about how he hadn't had much time for skiing last time, and Olivia would ask if he was trying to get himself exiled to the couch for eternity.
They could be in Paris. She'd always wanted to go and he would have brought her, he really would. He would have found a way to move there if that was what she wanted. They'd drink fancy wine and he'd horrify Olivia by pretending to want to try snails. Then he would laugh and say he may be an omnivore, but he had standards. They'd go to a hotel and he'd bring out that beautiful, perfect ring that he would have somehow gotten past airport security without Olivia seeing…
God, it wasn't fair. He'd never hurt anyone, had always tried to help. Sure, he hadn't been the easiest to get along with- he had been an honest-to-God jerk at times- but he had changed and always been a truly good person. All he wanted was what things had been a month ago. His life ahead of him once more, the promise of a lifetime with Olivia. That was all he wanted from life, but even that was too much, it seemed.
He would have made her happy. He had never wanted a child before but would have had as many as Olivia wanted. He'd change jobs, switch to Calhoun's firm to get a bigger paycheck, so he could keep their family's mouths fed. He would have kept them all happy and healthy.
His breath was ragged by now, and he could barely see through his tears. Soft cries were escaping him, but he muffled them with the small quilt on the sofa. Olivia would want to know how much he was hurting, but he couldn't let her see this. He couldn't explain why but he felt like this had to be done alone.
Chest heaving, he continued to spin painfully beautiful memories he would never have. Newborns crying, days at the beach, birthday cakes, puppies, Christmases, Sundays at church with Eddie and his family, promotions, vacations.
He pulled out a pen and piece of paper and wrote them down one-by-one, and then, finally, when he couldn't stand any more, he let them go. He walked outside, muscles shaking, and started a small fire that he fed the paper to. Watched what should have been his future get consumed by a red and orange monster. He fought to regain his breath, but the closest he ever came these days was a wheezy sensation in his chest, a feeling that there should be more air inside but he couldn't make his lungs accept it. Crying only made it worse.
He blew the flame out and then scooped up the ashes in his hands. He took in a shaky breath and stepped to the railing, letting the pieces scatter in the wind.
The life that might have been his was gone for good now. He'd never get it back. All he had was a short number of months with Olivia. He'd cherish them, but there would come a point when he hated every second of his existence.
But Olivia would be with him. The knowledge that he wouldn't be alone steadied him, just a little. He'd never be able to bring her to Paris, but he would have something with her, and something was far better than nothing. This was the closest he would get to what could have, would have, should have been his.
He let the burning redness fade from his eyes, let the soreness in his throat clear, so that he no longer appeared to have been crying. Then he wove his way to their bedroom and slipped between the blankets, shaking Olivia's shoulders.
"Hmm?" she muttered, more asleep than awake.
Rafael kept shaking her shoulder and she finally woke up. "Rafael?" she said softly.
Rafael thought, then rolled to his side and wrapped one arm around her waist. Running the other through her hair, he whispered, "I'm sorry…. I'm sorry things are how they are…" his voice cracked a little, but he had no more tears. They had run out on the balcony. "But that's all I have… and…" He took a shuddering breath, "That's all I have, but I want to share it with you." He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and rested his head against her cheek.
Soft, almost like a prayer, he whispered four more words. "I love you, Olivia."
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Flickering	By : Bucken-Berry Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 1521 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU; no profit is being made.

Flickering