Chapter Text
Alex dreaded this night. It was the one night of the year she wished to fast forward through to the part where she collapsed in bed, thankful for the torment to be over. At least this time, she would have backup in the form of a handsome District Attorney. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time. And maybe Hell would freeze over and Dick didn't show up. Alex wasn't that lucky. No, she swore he always made it a point to attend this thing, ensuring he would pardon himself from the usual schmoozing and carousing of donors and admirers then seek her out like a shark catching a blood trail in the water. Alex shuddered as she always felt like the damn prey. Well, this time, that was not going to happen.
She put the finishing touches on what little makeup there was before doing a final once over and heading down the stairs. Her smaller firearm was tucked in the clutch purse and a second one secured on her thigh. Just because she was playing dress up, it mean being a marshal stopped at the door. Alex paused, taking a final look at the glamorous woman staring back in the full length mirror. Whoever she was, she was about to have a long boring night surrounded by drunk politicians, officials and high society. She forced a final nice deep breath before taking the final descent.
“So Alex's ex is going to be there?” Rafael raised an anxious eyebrow at Valente.
“I wouldn't worry, Counselor,” the smaller man slapped his hand reassuringly on Barba's shoulder, “that ship sailed and rammed into a iceberg years ago. In case you forgot, she isn't exactly thrilled when he texts or calls her. And trust me, if she could delete that number, she wouldn't think twice about it.”
“Thanks for the moral support,” he heard the footsteps and shot to his feet. The sight which greeted his eyes was breathtaking to say the least. Alex strolled into the front room, heels in one hand, clutch in the other. The chiffon rustled lightly at her feet, as the empire style waist accentuated her torso. The spaghetti straps didn't detract from the toned shoulders and arms that wavered as she moved. Her eyes shifted anywhere and everywhere as the weight of both men's stares bored down on her. Part of her hair was pulled back and up with a zirconium piece keeping it in place. The lower part had been formed into narrow spirals. Alex could feel the blush creeping up her skin, etching blotches into the light tan canvas. Oh how she yearned to crawl into the nearest hole and into the fetal position.
“Be honest,” she huffed before forcing her eyes up to meet theirs, “How do I look?”
Barba was muttering something in Spanish and swallowing hard. Alex smirked as she knew that mannerism anywhere; Gad had behaved the same way on their first date. Words couldn't form on the tip of his tongue and it was down right cute. Cute? That was such a high school way of thinking yet it was fitting in this case.
“You look like you're going out on the prowl,” Valente joked.
“Always am” Alex winked. “Now where's your date? Surely, he's on his way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Valente rolled his eyes. “Actually, I have two dates this year. Henricksen is coming.”
“Wait, what? Victor is making his debut? I thought he hated these things?”
“Well, with recent events, he can't pass up the chance to see Dick's face when you show up with Barba.”
“Talk about craving drama,” Alex rolled her eyes. “What is he, stuck in high school?"
“Even our dear FBI agent Henricksen needs some excitement outside of work. Dean and Cole already picked their seats for the grand viewing.”
“Let's go,” Alex slipped the heels on and double checked her clutch then lifted her skirt, checking the firearm strapped to her thigh. Barba's attempt to be not obvious fell flat as Valente tried to suppress a laugh, only to have it sound like he was doing a raspberry. “Enjoy the view,” she smirked at Barba who darted his eyes to the floor. The blush crept up his neck and cheeks as the room suddenly grew hot.
Rafael insisted on driving which Alex tried to convince him to let her drive but he showed the route programmed in Google maps and she acquiesced. He had gone through the trouble of doing so and it was sweet really. The entire ride was quiet but it was comfortable. Alex felt the drop in stomach increase the closer they got. The old Exchange came into view as they approached from the southwest. The snaking line of taillights stood out against the old gas lamps cast their soft glow midst the modern pollution of street and porch light alike.
“You okay over there?” His hand sought hers, covering it in a comforting hold, giving a few gentle squeezes.
“Yeah,” Alex nodded, “I never was a fan of these things: getting dressed up to parade around the nest with the vipers. Listen to them discuss first world problems or bemoan how shitty their golf game's become. Or how equality is causing the great American civilization to deteriorate. Makes me ill. A blind eye to the plight of others including those right here in town.”
“Sounds like some of the functions I had to attend back in New York,” Rafael nodded as he eased his car alongside the curb.
“I bet those don't compare to old Southern money and aristocracy outings I have to make mandatory appearances at. Talk about entitlement and superiority complexes. Some of these assholes openly pine for the good old days where everyone knew 'their place.' Henricksen and I had to go to one where some throwback from the Civil War was talking shit about him and how it was so depressing to see government jobs being occupied by and I quote, 'Negroes and other degenerates' so I decided to have a little fun with them.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn't lay a hand on him. He wasn't worth my energy. Instead, I walked up and started to speak in my native tongue, to his face, telling him what I thought of him. The looks on his and his equally vile friends was priceless. They were aghast at this white woman speaking to them with such a degrading savage tongue. How dare I not speak English? This was America and I should return to my country. Well, then I asked loudly, in front of everyone, in English, 'I thought you two looked familiar. Didn't I see you on Tinder? Then later, Victor and I played the little alert sound for the app and everyone was suddenly checking their phones with panicked expressions.”
“Were they?” Barba's eyes widened.
Alex giggled like a 12 year old. “Oh yes. Their wives' expressions of shock as they clutched those pearls. I saw a few knowing smirks from some of the younger attendees.”
“Of course,” Barba snorted. The valet opened their doors. Barba hustled out, determined to meet Alex. As she started to exit, a hand extended before her.
“You don't have to do that,” she sighed but accepted his offer.
“But I insist, senorita.”
Senorita. Flatterer.
“A gentleman; not too many of those around these days.”
Not wishing to disappoint, Alex accepted his hand and together, they started for the steps.
Lisa spotted the pair first, hurrying over to greet them.
“Guys, you made it,” she couldn't but help to beam at them. Lisa decided on a simple black dress with spaghetti straps, and skirt that flared out at the waist but still kept her shape. A gold fish bone chain adorned her neck. “Cole, Dean, and Henricksen are over at the bar and no big wigs have shown up yet.”
“That won't last long,” Alex shook her head. “I say after this, we go to Uncle Benny's. You know he loves hearing all the gossip and Aunt Andrea fawns over everyone's dresses and suits.”
Lisa caught the perplexed expression on Barba's face. “Counselor, after this overblown shindig, we all head to Benny's, drink, gossip and show off our pretty sides. Did that not happen in New York?”
“Sadly, New York was too uptight for such fun. All stiffs and very boring. Not like down here.”
“Oh?” Lisa raised an eyebrow.
“Down here, folks are relaxed, not rigid or cold. New Yorkers were focused on getting to where they were going. No time to talk. Here, folks say good morning or hello, even if they don't know you. Sitting on the large wrap around porches, sipping drinks, talking.....that didn't exist in the city. If you wanted that, you'd have to head out to Long Island or Connecticut.”
“I couldn't imagine that,” Lisa shook her head. “All those buildings blocking the sky.”
“New York is a hard town but, it has it gems too, tucked away in the jungle of steel and concrete.”
Before Lisa could say anything else, the rising commotion prevented her from doing so. Everyone's heads craned towards the main double entrance, catching sight for the cause of this cacophony of chaos. Men and women crowded the double doors, jockeying for any position that would enhance their view. Voices climbed excitedly like children. Children who found out the wealthy aunt or uncle had arrived and come bearing gifts.
“Is that.....” Rafael muttered.
“Afraid so,” Alex groaned and finished her drink. It landed in her stomach with a hard thud.
Senator Richard “Dick” Roman gallantly strolled into the main hall. His tuxedo jacket crisp with bow tie resting immaculately against his throat. The white button up shirt freshly pressed with not a single imperfection to be seen. His brunette tresses perfect, with a few spikes to accentuate the James Bond look. His eyes scanning around, taking in the waves of faces that filled the space. They narrowed, hoping to find that one that flooded his mind for the last week. Flush to his side was his personal bodyguard, Edgar, with his personal assistant, Susan bringing up the rear. Edgar caught sight of Alex and instantly, his face darkened into a death glare. Alex rolled her eyes, the posturing for show, to put her, specifically, on notice.
“Dick,” the woman on his arm gently tugged him. Dick turned to meet her questioning gaze. Her slender body in a shorter dress of midnight satin, pearls accentuating her small neck, bringing out her eyes. Her thick brown tresses were coiled into a French roll, stylish but simple. A few men took a moment to size the newest arrival, mentally undressing her with their eyes as their minds swirled with all levels of perverse deeds and acts.
“Sorry, Bella, I was merely taking in the scenery,” dark rings trained on their query. “Please, my dear, let us proceed.”
“Incoming,” Henricksen grabbed another whiskey.
“We have visual,” Dean polished his drink off.
“Shit,” Cole took a swig of his beer, some local brew that settled comfortably on his palate.
Alex straightened her posture, refusing to cower this time. Instead, she grabbed a glass from the waiter as he came by, downing half the chardonnay. Barba noted her change in persona, thanks to the approaching entourage. Her body stiffened and shoulders dropped back as her jaw clenched. Sapphire rings darkened and sharpened to icy daggers.
“I'm gonna need another drink,” she muttered into the glass. Barba flagged down another server, grabbing two more glasses. Something told him this was going to be a long night.
“Alexandra,” Dick came to a stop. Bella looked Alex up and down, turning her nose up at the choice of dress. Clearly, she went to a thrift store for that rag. Alex merely raised an eyebrow, refusing to let herself be belittled by trash. She knew how Bella got to where she was and where she came from. Not exactly a well concealed secret, especially among the elites. While they would greet and embrace her in the public eye, behind her back, the knives were out. Whispers and snide remarks whispered between the old hags with the heritage pearls or exchanges among the younger refined women, who turned their noses up and looked down upon those like Bella.
Lisa hurled daggers from behind the woman's back, itching to get that bitch alone for just five minutes. Bella was poor and from the Lowland, the part of the country that caressed the Piedmont. Where running water and indoor plumbing was a fantasy in some parts. This mirage of wealth and prestige was nothing more than a mask to shield her true heritage.
“Senator, Bella,” Alex kept her greeting cool but cordial. “I would like to introduce you to the new District Attorney, Rafael Barba.”
“Good evening, Senator,” Barba extended a hand which Dick took in a firm handshake.
“Ah, so you are the one from New York City, correct?”
“Yes, it is. I was a Manhattan DA for several years.”
“Ah, so how are you liking our beautiful state?” Dick waved a hand like a showman under the big top.
“Different, but in a good way. I still have to get used to the slower pace but Marshal Koch and her deputies have been great in helping me get acclimated. Special Agent Henricksen has been most helpful in catching me up in current cases and other affairs. Everyone has been very welcoming so far.”
“Good! Despite some past......events, Charleston is a beautiful city. I'm proud to call it home.”
Dick shifted his eyes to Alex, the sinister grin never dropping. Her stomach dropped, blood running cold at the predatory glint in his eyes.
“Alexandra,” he pulled his arm away from his wife, shutting her existence from his mind. Bella seethed at this public rejection and stormed off, probably to cry about it to her fake friends while reveling in their phony sympathies. Lisa smirked at her distress, watching her pout as she retreated.
Alex took another drink. He was going to try and butter her up. Again. And every time, she shot him down. When was he going to take the fucking hint?
“It is so good to see you,” Dick reached for her hand only to find both occupied.
“Senator,” she greeted him coolly. “I see you're still standing on the whole traditional values platform.”
“Well, traditional values are what built this country and makes it great. It's what made us the powerhouse nation we are today!”
Alex rolled her eyes. This psychobabble bullshit. Valente narrowed his eyes until a perfect set of knives were pointed at the back of the man's head. Dick had been like this since high school. He joined the Young Republicans after graduating, finding the heathenish mannerisms of his peers degrading to society as a whole. Always believing radical ideas included women were equals to men, women had autonomy over their bodies, and it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Bastard belonged in the 18th century. In college, Dick had climbed the ranks of the local conservative clubs. His charismatic persona and oratory skills drew those like him in; those who hungered for the “simpler” time when everyone knew they place. When women were in college for the sole purpose of finding a husband, not to entrench themselves in a state of fierce independence that would defy the conventional norms.
“I'm sure you heard I'm forming an exploratory committee for a White House run.”
Henericksen choked on his whiskey as Dean spun around to conceal the laugh gathering in his chest. Barba simply stared with an unreadable expression. Valente rolled his eyes so hard, he swore he saw the back of his head. Morris groaned inwardly. Lisa wanted to throw him out the nearest window.
“Of course,” Alex grabbed another glass. “I'm sure your wife already has delusions of grandeur dancing in her little head. Hope you're ready for the media scrutiny about your wife's little past.”
Dick simply chuckled.
“Oh, Alexandra, you always did make me smile. That's what the exploratory committee is for. But, please, I would like to chat more with you later. To catch up, of course.”
He leaned in, kissing her chastely on the cheek. As he pulled away, he whispered in her ear, “I'm not giving up on you.”
Keep dreaming.......
Barba caught the annoyed expression crossing Edgar's face. His expression had been unreadable when they entered, but it appeared, he was no fan of the marshal's. The hired gun followed his boss, pulling back his jacket side, the tell tale shine of his service weapon speaking for itself. Henricksen stiffened, taking a few slow steps towards the shorter man. There was no way, that bastard was going to intimidate his friend. Valente was quickly to the right as Morris occupied the left.
Edgar flashed a smirk before turning away, jacket flapping over the weapon.
“I hate that guy,” the agent snarled. “Arrogant bastard.”
“Just another hired goon. The politician's personal attack dog.”
“Yeah, well he's not in anyone's fan club, Chuckles,” Dean clasped his hand on the man's shoulder. “Except for Dick's.”
Alex crossed her arms, hand clutching the glass tight. Her jaw ticked and eyes narrowed as Dick flashed a brilliant smile in her direction, though the throngs looming behind her felt it was cast for them. She marched to the bar, seeing the bartenders were up to their arms in pouring drinks and making small talk. Their attention divided between clamoring patrons with the promise of a quick bank in the form of cash tips.
The bottle of Jack was not missed.
Barba craned his neck around, finding they were short a marshal. He whipped his head into a full circle, seeking any sign of the wayward agent.
“Anyone seen Alex? She was standing right here a minute ago.” He turned in a second full circle, no sign of her to be seen. Great, how what trouble was she getting into?
“Knowing her, she got the Hell outta here,” Valente shrugged. “Last person she wants anywhere near here, by choice, is my brother.”
“Yeah, I seem to sense no love lost between them.”
“Well, I'm not sure what she's told you, if anything, about Richard Roman, but, if not, it's best to ask her. Hear it from the Marshal's mouth.”
Barba hummed.
“I take it there's a backstory.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dean whistled. “See, those two were an item back in the day. And I mean high school. Ya know, hot and heavy, young and in love.”
“I see,” Rafael nodded. “I better go find her.”
“Check the dungeon.”
Barba cast a confused look at Morris. Morris laughed and shook his head. “No, Counselor, there's a dungeon beneath our feet. This was also a prison for pirates and POWs during the Revolutionary War. There's a reason this is called the Provost Dungeon.”
“Oh, I did not know that.”
“I can guarantee you she swiped a bottle from the bar along the way,” Henricksen shrugged. “If you hurry up, I'm sure Alex is willing to share.”
“Take the elevator down but, be careful, as it's all the original stone and it's a little dark down there. They say it's haunted.....wooooooooo.......” Valente wiggled his fingers.
“Christ, Valente,” Lisa groaned, “We were all told that story in grade school.”
Barba decided on the stairs. It was faster and it seemed every attendee was in line for the elevator. They were heading up to the art gallery in the Grand Hall. Some contemporary American artist was being featured. He had enough of the arts when in Manhattan. Too many galas and parties held in the grand halls among vast works that he was certain took way more time and effort than could've been needed.
The doorway opened, as did the past. Centuries peeled away as he took the first step on the cold colonial brick.
The Georgian-Palladin exterior concealed the sinister past of the city; the Provost. His dress shoes clicked on the brick walkway, laid when the building was constructed in 1771; the US still collection of independent unorganized colonies. Barba shuddered at the damp chill, pausing before the mannequins clad in pirate garb. The exhibits looking as thought a face life was in order. Perhaps the last time any attention was bestowed was the 1980s. Chains were cast upon their wrists, as were shackles. Straw strewn about them, creating the aura of the poor unsanitary conditions many prisoners faced in this dank dark confinement. He would have to ask Alex about the deeper history, if he could located her. The lights sufficient to illuminate his path, leading him deeper in the bowels of the prison. A few more displays depicting American held prisoner during the Revolutionary War guided the way until he came upon a few benches pressed against the west end.
Alex took another swig from the bottle, her eyes fixed on no particular object. It was quiet here, save for the occasional thump from above or attendees taking one look from the elevator, refusing to step foot in, then going back up to the world of the living and elites.
“There you are,” the smart clicking of Barba's shoes carried against the brick. “Drinking alone?”
“I figured you'd come looking for me,” Alex sighed and extended her arm, “Drink? I promise I don't have any diseases.”
“Not that would stop me,” he eased down beside her, his lips surrounding the opening and taking long hard swig. It burned at first, but quickly mellowed out when traveling down his throat.
“I had to get the Hell out of there. Figured Dick would be stuck schmoozing and shaking hands as they congratulate one another on being masters of the universe for the millionth time,” sarcasm dripped from each syllable. “There's no way in HELL I'm gonna go running at his beck and call. And if he thinks for a microsecond, I'm gonna sign on to his detail if he gets to DC, he's dumber than I thought. He made his bed long ago and he can lay in it.”
“Touchy subject,” Barba took another drink before passing the bottle back to her.
“No, not for me. Him. We were an item in high school.” Alex paused, taking a deep swig. The lough gulp bounced off the thick walls before she continued. “I thought it was going to be forever. Young and stupid, ya know? Well, on prom night, our senior year, he had taken off and I went to look for him, only to find him in a classroom, with Bella, yes the same one you saw upstairs, fellating him. I, of course, was beyond devastated. My heart shattered right then and there. I slid the promise ring he had given to me as a Christmas gift, stormed in that room, flung that ring at his head and ran off. Gadreel found me crying on the steps outside. Saw how heartbroken I was. He had gone stag, too shy to ask any one, well me it turned out. Found out he had this huge crush on me since junior year. Dick pleaded with me to take him back, but I told him to fuck off. Embarrassed the shit out of him in front of his friends and the entire class. The next day, his parents received an anonymous call about their precious golden boy's misdeeds. Scandalous.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Barba's words were genuine. “No one deserves that.”
“So, what about you and that Yelina chick? My aunt Andrea poured the tea about the conversation you had with her when I was in the hospital. She was not impressed with her based on what she had said.”
Babra chuckled. “Oh no, your aunt could've kicked her ass if she had been standing in front of her. Yelina and I......” Alex passed the bottle over, letting him get some courage. Barba gulped a few hard drinks before starting up, “We had something, but she had higher ambitions, goals. Alejandro, my oldest friend, won her over, if you wanna call it that. Looking back, I think she was weighing her options. Seeing who had the better package deal.”
“Bitch,” Alex muttered.
“She refused to see what he was about. When SVU discovered he had been sexting women, including a 15 year old girl, who got a watch for her silence, and had an online alter ego, Enrique Trouble. He sent photos to Rollins as she created a fake account, messaged him and he was at a black tie affair with his wife and kids.”
Alex broke out in laughter. “Enrique Trouble?! Sounds like an awful porn name.”
“He thought he was something special, could do what he wanted because he was this charismatic man who brought promises to a community in need. His roots humble, unlike me, who went to Harvard. On a scholarship. I wanted out of the Bronx. Wanted to break free from all that.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Alex turned that against me in the press. Made it look like I was aloof to the needs of those in the neighborhood we grew up in. I wanted to have a seat at the golden table and look down upon them in disdain. I had turned my back on everyone. Community leaders begged me not to take action as it would hurt his campaign, would ruin his shot at mayor. Well, as history shows, scandal doesn't always deter the voter.”
“Nope,” she shook her head, lips pressed tightly. “With friends like that, who needs enemies? I saw he won regardless. Some great savior. He's closer to the predatory powerful than he is to the struggling masses. I'm sorry you went through that bullshit. You had a job to do. A 15 year old girl was a victim of an adult predator. He knew she was 15. And he denied it. I read the papers. Let him try that on someone like me or Lisa.”
“I'd like to see him try.”
Alex scooted closer until their legs were flush together. His arm slid around her bare shoulders, drawing her in as his other arm linked up, creating a warm barrier of polyester. Alex rested her head on his shoulder.
“Sounds like we both had shit relationships and got through it. Here's to new beginnings,” Barba took a drink, leaving the last bit for her. Alex greedily swallowed ever drop, eyes closed, tongue savoring the thick warm amber gold.
“Indeed, Counselor,” an exhale of contentment.The subtle trails of his cologne pleasing to her senses. Similar to what Gad would wear when he felt like "dressing up fancy" as he would say.