#Alex has yet to be caught on his killing spree

[catboy-syrup]

Here take my stupid Aluri drawing

Don't mind the fact that I suck at anatomy, just understand I love them even though it's literally the most random and nonsensical crossover ship ever. It is literally such a shame that I am the only person to ever ship this cause I crave more content of them together. /gen

I wanna write a fic of them, in fact, I'm gonna write a fic of them.

[plaidbooks]

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

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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.

[whothefuckiscassandracain]

Batman: No Man’s Land - a novel by Greg Rucka

Last but not least, before we head off into Cass’ first Batgirl run, let’s take a look at Batman: No Man’s Land. This one was fun to read, since I practically missed the first half of the event by reading only Cass’s comics issues. Warning: long post is very long. Lots of quotes instead of pictures, this time. More below the cut.

Our first mention of Cass in the novel comes from Oracle, in one of her apocalyptic journal logs, in which she describes Cass as follows:

Can’t be older than 16, if a day. Pretty young woman, Eurasian, very smart. And functionally mute, in that she seems incapable of using language. […] I don’t know if it’s a psychological or physiological trauma, but I’m beginning to suspect she was never taught how to speak or read or write. […] She’s been unable to give me her name—though whether that’s because she doesn’t have one, doesn’t know it, or doesn’t like it, I’ve no clue. I’ve taken to calling her Cassandra. Communications difficulties with her notwithstanding, Cassandra has become, in the last couple months, one of my most reliable people. She’s fast and strong and very sneaky, and to top it all off, she’s fairly imaginative, so that her reports end up being a somewhat entertaining game of charades, aided by scraps of paper and pencils. She’s a horrible artist, but I understand her concepts more often than not, so we’re getting by. (NML, page 26)

Clearly, Cass is very dear to Oracle. Once again, her aphasia is the main focus of her characterization, which makes sense, since, at this point, Cass, together with a few other kids (Alex, Charlie and Vanessa) is essentially Oracle’s eyes and ears in No Man’s Land. Aphasia: 20

Cassandra’s first proper appearance occurs between the pages 47 and 52, when she follows a terrified scream on the street, only to realize that she has been lured into a trap by a cannibalistic street gang. Although she manages to hold her own pretty well, Huntress (in Batgirl garb) arrives to help her. Once the fight is over, Cass tries to say “thank you”, but all that comes out is a croak and she explains to Huntress that she is mute, although:

It was more complicated than that, but Cassandra nodded, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to explain the how and the why. And even if she could explain those two things, she would have to explain the rest, the darkness of it all, and the evil, and she didn’t want to tell anyone that. Not ever. (NML, page 50)

Poor Cassandra is very clearly suffering from major PTSD. We also see her demonstrating another of her quirky gestures, namely how to say “thanks”:

She thought for a moment, then presented both hands, palms up. She looked at Huntress, smiling, then brought her hands together, lacing the fingers. (NML, page 51)

Huntress others Cass to stay at her place and have some food, but Cass declines, in spite of being hungry and cold, because Oracle warned her that Huntress was a criminal and Cass should stay away from her, and because she wants to finish her job (finding intel on Black Mask) first. By the time Cass manages to at least mutter “Guh byh-eeee”, Huntress is already gone. Aphasia: 21 Unusual Mannerisms: 6

A short while later, Gordon and his team start a gang war between two rivaling street gangs in order to allow them to reclaim more territory, including Oracle’s clock tower. Cass reports this fact to Oracle, who is deeply disturbed. The mission succeeds, although new complications arise, including Helena Bertinelli showing up as the new Batgirl, Black Mask leading a cult-like gang on a conquering spree, an attempt on Alfred’s life, which is foiled by Batman (Bruce’s first appearance in NML), and Gordon striking a secret deal with Two-Face, while Bruce strikes a deal with Penguin. Neither really gets what they want, as both villains turn on them and Two-Face ends up taking over Batman’s territory, which results in the loss of six innocent lives.

Not too long after, Cass delivers new information to Barbara, this time bringing along a note form Alfred, who has taken up shelter at Dr. Thompkins clinic, helping her treat the wounded. At this point, master assassin David Cain sneaks into No Man’s Land, a minor detail that will become more important soon.

Meanwhile, Dr. Thompkins successfully talks Cassandra into spending a night at the clinic, rather than constantly being on the move, or better yet: Cassandra fails to talk her out of it. It is here that we learn just how deep Cassandra’s appreciation and respect for Leslie Thompkins is, mostly because the doctor looks like she could be blown away by the breeze and would never hurt a fly, yet has incredible strength in her. This leads us to a scene similar to what we saw in Batman Chronicles Vol. 1 #18, with Cassandra performing her warrior bow for Thompkins, which leads to this heartwarming exchange:

Cassandra shook her head, then presented both hands. With her right she made a fist, seating the face of it against the palm of her left hand, extending both in front of her at waist height. Then she bowed, looking the doctor in the eye. Dr. Thompkins’s wrinkled face wrinkled some more, and then she surprised Cassandra by returning the bow, saying, “You are quite a warrior, aren’t you, dear? Thank you for the compliment.” Cassandra went to sleep happy. (NML, page 184)

Aphasia: 22 Unusual Mannerisms: 7

The next morning, Cass meets Huntress gain, who is checking in on the clinic every now and then, and uses a number of gestures to communicate to her that Cass is a courier for Gordon’s daughter. Sadly, Huntress misinterprets this as Cass working for Gordon and starts badmouthing Gordon, which has Cassandra feeling horrible for telling a lie and uncomfortable because she does not like where the conversation as going. She ends the talk by giving Huntress the same warrior bow she gave Leslie. Helena returns the gesture. Aphasia: 23 Unusual Mannerisms: 8

We have now finally caught up with Cassandra’s first comic book appearance, story-wise, as Cass returns to Oracle for a reading lesson. They start with the letters of the alphabet, for which Barb praises her. Cass tries to thank her and it is here that we see just how hard speaking really is for her:

Cassandra pushed the tip of her tongue against the back of teeth. “T-aaans…” “Thanks.” “Ta-ah nks…” (NML, page 187)

As in the comics, Oracle has just about taught her how to say “Stop”, when Jim arrives and chides her for leaving the door unlocked, before giving her a hug. Cass’s reaction here is the first indicator in the novel of just how screwed up her own family life was:

Cassandra got up, moving out of the way as Gordon passed her to hug his daughter. She could see Oracle’s smile, how they both closed their eyes briefly. Her own father had only offered her a hug once, and that had been so many years ago, just before she had left. She felt both awkward and embarrassed watching them, as if she were intruding on something she had no right to see, and so she left, slipping silently out of the apartment and back into the hallway. She could hear their voices, the soft tones, and she reached the stairs knowing that jealousy was dogging her steps. She wrestled with it all the way to the lobby, trying to see the emotion for exactly what it was. She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself. (NML, page 187)

Just as in the comics, Cassandra catches sight of her father as she exits the building and it scares her out of her socks. However, all of that goes straight out of the window as she realizes that Cain is here to kill Gordon and Cass jumps in to rescue him. Not only is she fast as the Flash about it, she also proves that she can be fiercely stubborn when it comes to protecting people:

She scared them with her approach, two of the men stepping back and freeing their weapons from their holsters, and Gordon’s surprise was alight all over his face. She didn’t care, didn’t think about it, just grabbed him around the waist, passing the Blue Boys on either side of the Commissioner, and then driving him back into the lobby, shoving him down and covering him with her body. […] Cassandra pushed herself up, still holding the Commissioner, dragging him forcefully back into the lobby, […] Gordon started to get up and Cassandra caught him by the arms, shoving him back, toward the stairway. […] Cassandra moved directly in front of Gordon, then wrapped her arms around his middle, using her right leg as a brace, trying to keep him from continuing. He tried for a second longer, but Cassandra held her ground, and Gordon finally got the message. (NML, page 188-189)

Fast As Lighting: 10 Fiercely Assertive Protector: 7

The following interrogation, in which both Jim and Cassandra become increasingly frustrated with the obstacle that is her aphasia and in which Barbara recognizes the mark of Cain that Cassandra draws for them, culminates in this heartbreaking little gem, right after they finally work out that Cain is Cassandra’s father:

Cassandra nodded and couldn’t look at any of them, avoiding their eyes. It didn’t matter; she could feel their stares, the heat and accusation in them. It didn’t matter that she had never wanted to be like her father. It didn’t matter that there had never been any choice. She was a killer, too, and try as she might, she had never been able to escape that. (NML, page 195)

Aphasia: 24

Cassandra then gets the jump on both Barbara and Jim by jumping out of her seat and locking both of them in before anyone has a chance to react. Cain is waiting for her on the other side, opening fire, but not aiming at her, and Cassandra once again demonstrates that she is the speedster on the team:

It all seemed to slow down for her then as the adrenaline poured in, and she moved forward, slapping the gun from Cain’s grip. She was terrifying in her speed, and she knew that, because this was her strength, this was her language. These were the words her father had taught her, and she spoke fluently, her right leg snapping a kick that caught him in the middle, collapsing him double. Before he could straighten she had finished the sentence, a short burst uppercut that sent a spray of blood from her father’s mouth and one of his front teeth into the air. (NML, page 196)

Aphasia: 25 Fast As Lightning: 12 Fiercely Assertive Protector: 8

Throughout her fight with Cain, Cassandra keeps flashing back to her first kill (according to the novel at the age of 10, even though according to the comics she was 8), which she describes as her father simply having asked her to “just talk”. This memory upsets her so much, that she finally manages her first full, correct word: stop. For a moment, Cain even seems to be shocked and compassionate, but as soon as he hears Gordon trying to break through the door, he is back in assassin mode. Just as in the comics, Cassandra decides to push him through the nearest window, demonstrating both her protectiveness and a serious lack of regard for her own life:

Then they were in the air, falling with the shards, and Cassandra, for a moment, felt almost happy. (NML, page 198)

Better Off Dead: 5

Thankfully, Batman arrives in time to rescue both Cain and Cassandra, although Cain manages to get away. Confident that the assassin will need time to recover, Bruce takes Cassandra to a nearby park where he buried the men who had died during Two-Face’s takeover. He tries to talk to her in a number of languages, including sign language, but of course she can’t answer. She makes him mimic punches instead, and as he goes through a number of Tai Chi Quan routines that Cass always seems to be one step ahead in, he finally realizes what’s going on. And Bats is not happy.

Batman stopped and looked at her, again grateful for the lenses in the cowl that shielded his eyes. He didn’t want the girl to see the sudden pity he felt for her. […] “I knew David Cain once, long ago, […] He used to say that the only way to truly be a warrior was to make your actions as fluid and easy as your speech. He used to say that combat itself was a discourse, the finest form of conversation. At the time I thought it was hyperbole.” Batman reached out, touching the girl’s cheek. “I didn’t realize he was insane enough to actually force that philosophy on another human being.” (NML, page 204)

The two of them then “talk” about how Two-Face hired Cain and how Batman is planning to deal with him, using drawings in the soil. Despite the conversational difficulties, Bruce manages to make it clear to her that he is not going to kill Cain, nor will he let Gordon die. He then leaves, telling Cass to return to Oracle and stay out of this mess. Aphasia: 26

Cass, being a good future batkid, of course, promptly does not listen to him and instead goes to Two-Face’s base on her own. Within about five minutes, she proceeds to knock out all his guards (including the ones with guns), threaten Two-Face, grab the money he was going to use to pay her father, and leave again. She soon finds Batman and her father battling on a rooftop, drops the money bag right in between them, and lights it on fire. Rather than be angry at his payment literally going up in smoke right in front of his eyes, Cain once again shows that, even though he trained Cass to be a killer and he did do horrible things to her, he does have some compassion and affection for her:

The battle mask that David Cain had worn crumbled, and Batman saw tears in the man’s eyes. He wasn’t looking at the flames. Cain extended a hand to the girl. She turned her back on him and walked back to Batman’s side. Cain stared at her for a moment longer, then seemed to slump, almost shrinking from within. The girl looked at Batman, then took his hand in hers. She still wouldn’t look at Cain. Cain nodded, then turned away. Batman heard him say, “Take good care of her.” (NML, page 215-216)

From this point onward, Cass practically spends all her nights sleeping on Oracle’s floor (NML, page 223) and later her couch (NML, page 229). Bruce also starts training her, this time with Oracle’s approval. This eventually leads to him and Oracle introducing Cass to Nightwing and Robin. Interestingly, their reactions seem to be inversed, compared to the comics, with Robin instantly getting along with her and Nightwing being more reserved:

Robin arrived first, and I introduced him to Cassandra, gave him the short explanation of who she was and why she was in my inner sanctum. They took to one another pretty well and pretty quickly, and it made me remember how young Cassandra really is. […] Nightwing was suspicious of her, and even a little bit hostile at first, but it was clear that his real anger was for his mentor. (NML, page 249-250)

Batmom: 2

Bruce eventually explains to them why he wants Cassandra to be the next Batgirl (would never take a life, surrender, or let an innocent be hurt), but it takes Barbara’s blessing for Dick and Tim to fully accept it. Barb hands her the costume. When she comes back into the control room, dressed in her Batgirl finest, we get a rare glimmer of Bruce being a Good Batdad™:

“Ready?” Batman asked her. Our new Batgirl nodded. It was hard to catch, and I think the others missed it. I didn’t. Batman, for a second, smiled. (NML, page 252)

Batdad: 3

After this point, things start progressing rather quickly. Bruce tears Helena a new one, then proceeds to take back his territory, piece by piece. One of the GCPD SWAT officers breaks off and founds his own violently protective gang, one of the loyal officers has a baby, Bane eradicates all city records in a bid by Lex Luthor to gain the rights to rebuild Gotham and make it his own (a plan which Bruce foils by having Barb and Tim produce perfectly forged certified copies of every record they can find before Bane destroys them) and Joker finally joins the madness, which brings us to Cassandra’s next appearance.

Cass has taken up the habit of including Leslie’s makeshift clinic in her rounds and checking up on her from the shadows whenever she can. She gets a quick hug from Leslie and an offer of tea from Alfred before leaving the camp and promptly walks into Joker and Harley. She takes the fact that he’s walking into the MASH sector with an ax in his hand pretty well and swoops in just in time to exchange a few blows with Harley and keep the situation from escalating, but to her surprise, Joker does not attack her, because he was looking for Batman, not Batgirl. For the first time since watching Barbara and her dad, Cass is truly confused:

Dumbfounded, Cassandra watched as Joker and the others calmly walked away. She didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t know what to do. (NML, page 300)

We fast-forward again once more, and this time there is actually good news: in Washington D.C., Lucius and his campaign to get Gotham’s No Man’s Land status revoked have finally born fruits and the city is scheduled to have basic infrastructure and services again by New Year’s. This announcement has everyone hugging each other and cheering:

[...] even Cassandra was managing to make a little noise, squeaks and rasps. (NML, page 368)

However, Cass’ cuteness does not stop there! As the medical aid starts pouring into Gotham, Cass visits Leslie’s clinic in civilian clothes to say goodbye to her and Alfred. She hugs Alfred “quickly, the way she did every movement once she had decided upon it” (NML, page 374), and answers his question of whether she wants anything in particular by making what is possibly the cutest Joker impression ever:

Cassandra shook her head, then put the index finger from each hand at the corners of her mouth, pulling down on one end and pushing up on the other, making a crazy face. (NML, page 374)

Thankfully, Alfred understands her much more easily than everyone else seems to, although that’s not necessarily a good thing. He tries to shoo her away, but Cass indicates that she’d be happy to hear the rest. It’s not good:

“Joker, my dear. You don’t know him very well. He’s the worst of them. When he’s quiet, like he is now, it’s normally for a very wicked reason.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You be careful. She nodded. Alfred forced a smile back into place. “Very well, then. Off with you. I have much work to attend.” Cassandra departed, wondering what, exactly, was so dangerous about Joker. (NML, page 375)

The answer, of course, is that Joker then goes on to successfully abduct every new-born baby in No Man’s Land, kills every one of the rogue police officers, nearly kills Huntress, and sets in motion a plot that ultimately leads to Joker shooting Jim Gordon’s new wife, Sarah Essen.

Cassandra, however, is not around for any of that (at least not in the novel). Instead, her last appearance here comes during Christmas dinner, as Dick and Alfred are fighting over who gets to carve up the bird. Everything in this scene is adorable, from Alfred’s dignified threat that there will be no dinner if Dick doesn’t sit down, to Dick’s reply that he won’t eat if he can’t carve, to Bruce’s assurance to Leslie that they do this every meal, and, finally, to Cass’ epic reaction to the madness:

She nodded, then said, “Stop.” Alfred and Dick froze. Leslie covered her mouth in surprise. Cassandra grinned, reached across the table, and took the carving knife. Then she set about cutting the bird. (NML, page395)

[cwdcshows]

Supergirl - S5 Ep11 - Back From the Future Part One

Okay, we know the multiverse was reborn after Crisis, but for all intents and purposes, none of the characters who were previously aware of the multiverse on these shows knows it still exists.  They have every reason to believe it no longer does; and until they reintroduce it, I get the impression we’re supposed to go along with the conceit that it doesn’t.  And I think Olivre’s narration about the multivere’s rebirth was really just a nod to explain how all the other DC properties still exist, but don’t exist in the same continuity as the Arrowverse, which is now singular.

So with all that considered, having all these refugees from parallel universes that no longer exist is getting a little contrived; especially the way Supergirl is doubling down on this idea between last week’s episode and this week’s.  It’s more than a little convoluted at this point.

“An old friend of yours is going to be there”?

But, you know….not really…. Because this Winn is from another universe than the guy you’re trying to put him on.  I mean, obviously if this Other Winn is a psychopath, he’s not really going to care who he hurts, and one guy is as good as his double from another Earth, but don’t try to make it sound like he actually has an ax to grind against this guy; for who all we know, didn’t do whatever he did on Other Winn’s Earth.

For that matter, how the hell does Lex know what happened on Other Winn’s Earth?  Did he take a stab in the dark and assume that things played out the same on the other Earth as they did on his?  Does he still have ungodly knowledge from the Book of Destiny rattling around in his head?

So wait, based on Lex’s comments about Other Winn’s crime spree “surviving well into the future,” I gather he’s using OW as bait from Original Recipe Winn to learn about the crime spree a thousand fucking years in the future and come back to do something about it?  That means Lex knows about the Winn Prime and that he’s in the future; and for some reason wants him to come back to the present….

Why the hell are Lex and Kara carrying on this farce of an interaction? Lex and Kara were both at the dawn of time, so they both know that the other remembers Pre-Crisis.  Is it all for the benefit of…what’s his name? The new guy who’s so boring I’ve even forgotten whatever nickname I might have given him earlier in the season. Because he clearly holds Lex in contempt, so I don’t think he’d bat an eye too much if Kara suddenly stopped kissing his ass.

You gotta love the fact that the real Winn shows up wearing a mask and Kara not only immediately recognizes him without any trouble; she shouts his name loudly and clearly across the convention floor, as if she has no experience whatsoever with masked identities.  Not that anyone would care or know who she’s talking about, but it pretty much makes him wearing a mask pointless.

And why the hell is he wearing a mask?  I could be mistaken, but I can’t think of anyone in the Legion of Superheroes who wears masks.

Oh, bullshit.  There’s no way “Toyman” managed to duck behind a curtain and replace himself with a dummy before Supergirl could super-speed over to him; not unless he’s a speedster.  

Or are we to believe that that wasn’t him before he ducked behind the curtain, but rather an android or something, capable of moving on its own as a distraction?  Because there was clearly more detail in the face of who or whatever made a run for it than the dummy had; to say nothing of how easily the dummy fell apart as soon as Kara caught up to it.

Fuck you guys.  Come on.  If there are fucking “time cops” – who ostensibly patrol history and identify people who are changing time or whatever and have the ability to so expertly know that some iteration of Winn was in the present to kill some other dude, wouldn’t they also have the ability to tell that whoever it is didn’t use time travel to do it; never mind whatever implications him being a refuge from a now non-existent parallel Earth would have. Surely there’d be some historical record that these doubles arrived on Earth, if not record of the Crisis itself. For that matter, how could they be sure it’s no his twin?  Identical twins have identical DNA; and while there may be no record of Winn having a twin brother, are we to believe that time cops a thousand years from now, investigating temporal crimes don’t have more advanced forensic tools than we’re using now? Because even in this day and age, things like finger prints and DNA evidence isn’t nearly the end all be all science that a lot of shows make it out to be. Time cops sure as hell need to be better equipped than that.

Plus, it’s one fucking thousand years in the future; when do the time cops learn about something that happened a millennia earlier? Shouldn’t the ripple effect of any changes made to history mean that in this briefly altered history, by the time Winn first arrived in the future they’d be aware that someone who looked like him had done something in the past that they’d want to bring him in?

Are these time cops in any way related to the Time Bureau from Legends?  Because it’s all one universe now, so presumably it’d all be connected.  Maybe Alex can call up Sara and have them put a note in their files or something so they know what’s what.

How the hell does someone like Winn, who’s wanted by the time cops for carrying out an assassination in the past, manage to get his hands on a ship to take him back to the past? And why aren’t the time cops following him?  I won’t be surprised if they show up later, but they’re “time cops” – they should show up at the exact same time Winn does.  Hell, they should have shown up instead of Winn and arrested Other Winn before he could take the shot; rather than looking for him in their present. After all, even if there was no “Other Winn” and the shooter was the real Winn Schott, for all they know the Winn that they went to go question hadn’t gone back in time yet, and by questioning him about a crime he hadn’t committed yet, they could be setting into motion him going back to commit that crime.  

If you’re going to be time cops, you presumably have the ability to go back in time, because otherwise, why fucking bother?  And if you have that ability, why wouldn’t you go back to when the crime is about to be permitted and a) stop it from being committee and b) apprehend the person responsible at the moment they’re about to do it?

Which goes back to my earlier question of, how do they even know it has anything to do with time travel, when the version of Winn who attempted the assassination didn’t use time travel; which means it’s just an ordinary murder.

And let’s not forget all the other time travel bullshit the other shows do that neither the Time Bureau nor these supposed “time cops” investigates; the most recent of which being Laurel and Dinah showing up in 2040 to prevent the murder of a socialite, that would give way to anarchy in Star City within a year.

Wait, Winn thinks Lex is a hero?  I get him not having his Pre-Crisis memories, but him having no concept of Lex being untrustworthy after living in the future for years would suggest that history never comes to regard him as the villain he really is.

So what, in this new timeline Andrea never got turned into the shadow manipulating assassin/thief? What’s the point of that?

How does one go about getting a secret elevator installed?  Asking for a friend.

Is that the same Non-CGI Martian Manhunter outfit they gave J’Onn when they introduced it an episode or two ago?  I swear the last time/first time it looked more like what his outfit looked like in full CGI mode, but this looks different somehow.  And it just looks weird on him on.

See, this is arguably the problem of having J’Onn leave the DEO, but still be part of the team effort. They either had to come to his office, which was an impractical staging area for their more secret heroing efforts; or he’d need to meet them back at the DEO.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Alex and Kara at least, to say nothing of Brainy, ending up leaving the DEO by the end of the season and working independently; perhaps running into conflict with the DEO.

So does J’Onn own the space he’s been using as PI office? Because I think his landlord might have some concerns or questions about how he’s using his space.  

Also, in theory this whole space existed before he converted it into a secret headquarters; right.  It just apparently sat empty for the last year or two or however long J’Onn’s been away from the DEO – I can’t even keep track any more.

Wait, I know I’ve complained about this a lot over the last few weeks, but how the fuck does whatever J’Onn is doing to restore knowledge of Pre-Crisis work???  By all rights he’s somehow, inexplicably restoring the memories each person had before Crisis, but in this instance, Winn hadn’t been around for years before Crisis happened; so how does he know about Lena killing Lex? How does that knowledge or anything else he wouldn’t have been around for fit into his new perspective of Pre-Crisis?

This is such a cluster fuck.

Why is Winn the only one having this sort of volatile reaction to being caught up?  With everyone else, J’Onn does his Vulcan mind meld thing and then they went about their business.  There might have been a few comments, a gasp; Mia fainted, but that’s also because she remembered her fiancé being a psychopath and murdering one of their friends….

Really, whatever technology Toyman is using, Winn – who has been living a thousand years in the future for years – is like nothing he’s ever seen before? How is that even fucking possible?

Oh, fuck you.  Yeah, there are some assholes out there, but I’m a little hard pressed to believe that Toyman would so readily gain followers with his lame ass anarchy speech.

I have mixed feelings about Winn’s “anti-trolling legislation” comment. On the one hand, that can be a slippery slope; one person’s “troll” is another legitimate criticism.  I got called a troll the other day for daring to comment on an Arrow Facebook post that I didn’t like the finale.  But on the other hand, in terms of any measures that might actually, effectively curb truly legitimate, garbage content that is a real detriment to society, whatever that might entail, would invariably be a good thing, but it’s depressing that it could take over a century before that becomes widely adopted….

Oh, fuck you Andrea. And here I actually thought that after everything that went down the first part of the season, they were going to ease up on the horrible boss routine and actually try making her more human, more personable.  But nope. I look forward to Leviathan activating you so the super-friends can kick you ass.

Since when has “Wildcat” been Brainy’s nickname?  And why would that possibly be his nickname?

As ever, how the hell did Other Winn managed to build these fucking tigers from scratch, when he’s at best been on this world for two weeks; and according to Lex was arrested shortly after arriving and has only been free for a day or two?

Also, how are these things resistant to Kara’s heat vision??

If ever there was a time not to wear a mask, it’s when fighting your murderous identical doppelganger from a parallel in front of a crowd and probably a fair amount of press; especially if said double is not wearing mask, exposing your identity anyway and ruining your reputation through misidentification.  Take the fucking mask off and let people at least know there are two of you.

Okay, the wanted poster is gone, but what about Winn’s standing as a domestic terrorist in the present?  Is there anything that now clears his name?

“Press the button. Now think of what you want.” Lena holds the cube, suddenly a bunch of Supergirl porn starts flashing in front of them. “I should have been more specific….”

Wait, why is Winn wearing glasses during game night?  Is he doing the whole glasses=secret identity thing now?

I assume a thousand years from now they’ll have come up with a more effective way of correcting vision problems than prescribing glasses…..