This story is based on a post by @fortheloveofbarba that I reblogged to my prompt blog a few months back. The premise? Amaro and Barba both come back to New York, Barba opens a private practise, and Amaro works for him as a private detective. I’d like to visit the beginning of that partnership.
Nick walked into the upscale restaurant, silently wondering how he was going to pay for his meal here. He had been working a decent job in California, but it wasn’t that good. What had Barba been doing all this time that he could still afford fancy restaurants? He had heard that he had moved away after the trial that had almost ended his career and landed him in jail. Some people had all the luck. When Nick had moved away, his bad rap had followed him.
His eyes looked through the sea of tables and saw Barba sitting at one near the back. The man put a finger up, motioning towards him ever so slightly. Nick made his way towards him, wondering what the man wanted. He’d barely been back in the city for 48 hours when he’d gotten a call from Barba asking him to dinner. He wondered if it had been Rollins or Liv that had given his number up. Probably Liv.
Barba stood when Nick got to the table. He proffered his hand, and Nick looked at it curiously. He and Barba had never really gotten along when they had worked together before. Why was he being so courteous now?
“It’s good to see you, Amaro. How has life been treating you?” Nick shook Barba’s hand warily and sat down. Barba sipped at his scotch.
“Alright, I guess. Apparently not as well as it has been treating you,” he surmised. Barba smiled widely. Nick cut to the chase. “I’ve barely been back in New York for 48 hours. I haven’t even had time to get back to the station to ask for my job back. What do you want?”
“That’s exactly why I asked you here. I wanted to get to you before NYPD did. I want you to come work for me, Nick.” Nick blinked at Barba.
“I’ve opened a private practise law firm. Civil defense, specialising in looking for runaways, victims of sex trafficking, victims of ICE, the works. I need someone that I can trust doing the groundwork, looking for the lost. I know we didn’t always see eye to eye before, but you’re a good man. I know that I can trust you.” Nick was stunned into silence.
“You- a defense attorney. On the…other side of the courtroom. With the likes of Buchanan?”
“Ah, not quite. I’d never stoop that low. Like I said, I want to specialise in runaways, victims of sex trafficking, victims of ICE. The people we never had time to help when we were working for the police department. If you’re interested, I have a couple of cases already…” Barba was fingering a couple of manila folders. Amaro looked at them with interest despite himself.
“And you want…what? A pet police officer?”
“No, a private detective. I have friends in the police department already, and you know that. We both know that they are hampered by rules and regulations and restricted funding. I can offer you more.”
“Let me see those,” Nick said, reaching for the folders. Barba handed them over readily. Nick read through them quickly.
“I’m giving you full license to do what you need to, staying within the law of course, to get the job done. Full funding as well.”
“Where exactly are you getting this funding, Barba?” Nick asked curiously.
“A combination of fees paid to me by the interested parties, which I vet thoroughly, just so you know, and other sources. I’ve invested well throughout the years. You don’t think I bought these suits on a Manhattan ADA’s salary, did you?”
“I did wonder,” Nick muttered.
“So are you in?” He closed the two case files and masked his emotions as he thought carefully.
“Well, it certainly sounds like a better deal than having 1 PP breathe down my neck again.” Barba smiled again and raised his glass.
“Great. We can get started tomorrow. I’m eager to see these cases move forward.”
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