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Everyone Deserves Love Chapter 14

A/N: This is another long one, and it’s some angst with a happy payoff at the end. Barba’s being threatened again, but not if Devon can help it! I do write Barba as kind of rude af to Sonny in this chapter, but tbh, he was pretty fucking rude to him when Sonny wanted to shadow him, so....

This is still dealing with the fall-out from Community Policing, and he’s still not being threatened by the dude from canon. He will show up, I promise.

P.S. I wrote this and edited it multiple times before I realized it takes place on Friday the 13th

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Tags: talks of threats, guns, some in depth descriptions of bullet wounds (I spent, like, and embarrassing amount looking up info/accounts from paramedics on this shit)

Words: 6071

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @infiniteoddball @whimsicallymad @detective-giggles

Apartment of Rafael Barba and Devon Motely

Friday, October 13th. 9:05am

Devon was pacing in the living room, hands running through her hair roughly. Barba watched her from the loveseat, trying to not get riled up himself.

“Hermosa, calm down. We’ve dealt with this before. It’s not that big of a deal,” he started slowly.

Devon whipped to look at him. “Not a big deal? Rafa, someone left a threatening note on your desk! They had access to your desk, your office. What if I’m not there? It’s not like before; I’m not around you 24/7 anymore, I can’t—”

“Dev, come here,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. She looked at him, eyes hard, before she came over and plopped down next to him with a “harrumph.”

“Plenty of people can get in there. Nothing happened; I’m fine. Besides, what’s the point of getting so worked up over this?” he asked.

“Nothing happened this time!” Devon was up again, pacing continued. “I’m calling in today; I don’t care what Jenkins says, I’m not leaving your side.”

It was Barba’s turn to sigh. “Don’t you think you’re being a little over-protective? How do you know someone will attack me today? How do you know some other nutjob won’t come out of the woodworks to threaten me some other time?”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been threatened; it won’t be the last,” Devon replied.

“So, what? You’re just going to stay by my side until someone shows up?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Barba grabbed Devon’s wrist as she passed by him, stopping her in her pacing. She turned to look at him, expression softening when her eyes met his.

“I just…I don’t know what else to do…” she said softly. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened….”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he started, but when he saw her gearing up for a fight, he added, “stay with me today; we can talk to Liv about having a detective with me afterwards, okay?”

He was trying and that made Devon smile, tears in the corner of her eyes; she knew how much he hated being protected—babysat, as he thought of it. “That would be perfect. I could track down whoever did this; maybe send a message to the NYPD to back off. But does SVU have the people to spare with Amaro gone?”

Barba smiled sarcastically. “They got a new Sergeant; Mike Dodds,” Devon didn’t miss the last name—same as the Deputy Chief of SVU. “Plus, Carisi has asked to shadow me. Has he mentioned to you that he’s taking night classes at Fordham Law?”

“Only a couple hundred times,” she replied. She had met Sonny a few times now, and she wasn’t sure how much she trusted the young detective to watch Barba in her stead. But it was better than no one, she supposed; he had gotten a message to her through Jenkins about the threats against Barba…something she still had to ask him about. “Fine. You get me today, then Sonny afterwards. But, if he gets called into work, you better call me or so help me, Rafael, the NYPD won’t be your only concern.”

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Friday, October 13th. 1:18pm

“Just like old times,” Devon smiled, stabbing at a piece of orange chicken. They had hidden in Barba’s office, trying to sneak a bite to eat between court appearances. Devon had noticed the officers working in the courts shooting Barba a dirty look, but they looked away when they saw the impressive glare Devon shot back, her hand resting easily on her glock, daring any of them to make a move, to say anything to the counselor. She wasn’t shy about intimidating people, especially when it came to Barba. And she wanted to send these assholes a message, which is also why she had her FBI badge also on clear display.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Barba smirking, sipping his fourth coffee of the day. The day had gone by smoothly enough, not shocking to either of them; Barba did have a point about the likelihood of receiving a threat today. But it still put Devon on edge, her normal anxieties racing through her. She hated the waiting the most; every noise, every look from a stranger, every reach for a phone, made her jump, reaching for her gun. As usual, Barba was calm, collected. It was like having someone threatening his life was just a normal Tuesday. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

She sat up straighter in her chair, putting her food down and turning towards the door seconds before there was a knock.

“How do you do that?” Barba mumbled before calling out, “come in.”

Devon smirked as Sonny came in, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey Barba, Devon,” he greeted in his thick New York accent. Even with all the complaining Barba made about the Detective, she liked him. He was like a puppy; that was the only way Devon could describe him. She hadn’t gotten a chance to work with him often, but she liked it when it did happen.

“Hey Sonny. What’s new?” Devon asked.

“I thought I told you tomorrow,” Barba said before he could respond.

Sonny frowned at him. “Yeah, ya did. But I thought I’d sit in the gallery today. Just take some mental notes...maybe give Devon a break.”

“That’s sweet of you; you can keep me company in the gallery,” Devon replied, glaring at Barba. “Don’t be rude; you’re going to be teaching Sonny some things.” Besides, it was nice having another pair of eyes watching Barba’s back.

Barba rolled his eyes. “Right. Shadows don’t talk and they have no opinions,” he instructed the taller man. Sonny smirked, knowing that Barba was joking. Kind of.

“It’s okay, I had the same rules when I first started working with him,” Devon stage whispered behind her hand. Barba shot her a glare.

Courthouse

Friday, October 13th. 4:30pm

“Nice win,” Devon grinned, giving Barba a half-hug and a peck on the cheek in the corridor outside the courtroom. They had disclosed, and their relationship was old news, but Barba wasn’t much into PDA; he was much more into leaving marks on her in private, letting others know who she belonged to. Devon acquiesced, agreeing that it was safer for them in the long run, keeping their public touches brief; a brush of skin, a quick kiss, shared looks that lasted too long. It was especially hard when they were alone in his office, his sleeves rolled up, shirt half unbuttoned. Or the nights where he wanted to play, to see how far he could go without anyone noticing the touches he gave his girlfriend, the things he whispered in her ear.

“This was an easy one,” he replied, smirking back. Their little moment was broken when Sonny came out of the courtroom and started bombarding Barba with legal terms and maneuvers that went over Devon’s head, even with her months in the courtroom watching her boyfriend work. She resigned to looking at the crowd of people, looking for danger, her eyes stopping short on a familiar face.

“Olivia! What’re you doing here?” Devon asked, waving the newly appointed Lieutenant over.

“Hey Dev. Ah, I’m just here to pick up a warrant,” she replied, smiling at the three of them.

“No problem,” Barba said, obviously ignoring Sonny and jumping at the chance to lose the younger man. “I left it in my office.”

The four of them made their way to the doors, Devon and Barba in the lead, the SVU detectives behind them.

“Think we’ll be home for dinner tonight? Or should we just get takeout?” Devon asked, opening the door, and heading towards the stairs.

Barba thought about it. “I think I only have one trial to prep for, so it should be an early—”

“GUN!” Devon shouted. Time seemed to slow. Devon was a step below Barba, looking towards the street. A man was standing at the base of the stairs, gun raised, aimed right at Barba’s heart. As Devon shouted, she moved, shoving her body in front of his, a gunshot ringing out. A moment later, another gunshot sounded, the man dropping, a bullet hole appearing in his chest, darkness staining his shirt. Another moment passed, and Devon was collapsing in front of Barba, onto the stone steps. Instinct took over as he dropped his case, hands barely catching her head before it cracked against the stairs. He knelt down next to her, body numb, mind going blank, unsure of what the hell just happened.

Instantly, Olivia was there, ripping her jacket off and pushing it against Devon’s left shoulder, between her collar bone and armpit—Barba vaguely noticed the blood staining Devon’s shirt. Sonny was yelling into a radio, but Barba didn’t hear him, he just stared at Devon’s face. Her eyes were closed, face expressionless, skin growing paler by the second.

“No no no,” he thought, or did he say it aloud? He couldn’t be positive; all he knew was that Devon was shot. She was shot and it was protecting him, saving him. She always got hurt because of him; this was all his fault. How could he have been so selfish to have let her be there today when he knew, he knew there was a chance of this…

“10-13, officer down. I repeat, officer down. We need a bus here, now. Officer’s been shot,” Sonny kept saying it over and over again. He took one look at Olivia and Barba kneeling over the down agent, before he took off down the stairs, trying to get some sort of crowd control and get the people away from the would-be assassin.

“Stay with us, Devon. Stay with us,” Olivia was saying. She was murmuring it like a prayer, more to herself than to Devon. And still, Barba just knelt there, staring into his girlfriend’s face. She was breathing, he could see it, but for how much longer? He looked down to where Olivia’s jacket was pushed against Devon’s torso; there was so much blood. How could anyone survive after losing so much blood? It hit him then that he may lose her; that Devon may not wake up from this. And he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, their last conversation about dinner….

After what seemed like years—or was it a few minutes?—hands were on his shoulders, pulling him away. Barba was reluctant to let go of Devon, but he had no strength to fight them; they moved him however they pleased, shoving him gently away from her. He vaguely noticed it was paramedics, three of which were now crowded around Devon’s unmoving body. Olivia had an arm wrapped around Barba’s shoulders, though he didn’t feel it, nor did he feel Sonny’s presence behind him as they watched the medics lift Devon onto a stretcher, carry her down the stairs, then into an ambulance.

Olivia led Barba, arm still around his shoulders, to her squad car. She put him in back, Sonny taking the front seat. She flipped on her lights and followed the speeding ambulance.

Mercy Hospital

Friday, October 13th. 11:30pm

Barba sat in the waiting room, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands. He stared at the same spot on the floor that he had since they arrived hours ago. Olivia sat next to him, only leaving to inform the SVU detectives and FBI agents that appeared in support of Devon on her condition, and to grab a coffee or snacks. She long since gave up trying to give Barba either, or even talk to the man; he had shut down, going so deep inside himself that no one could reach him. People came over and mumbled condolences, or attempted to assure him how strong Devon was, but to no avail. They might as well be talking to a brick wall.

“The bullet nicked her brachial artery; she was lucky she didn’t bleed out on the courthouse steps,” Olivia informed Fin when he arrived. “It then ricocheted into a rib, causing it to splinter. She’s still in surgery; she lost a lot of blood on the steps. They had to do three transfusions, and they had to get the bone fragments out. As long as the bleeding stops, she should be fine.”

All of this went in one ear and out the other for Barba. He kept replaying their last conversation in his mind; Devon’s smile, thinking about dinner that night, happy to just spend the day together before she went back to work.

He thought about the first time they met, in that cop bar, how she had saved him in that dark alley. He thought about how she protected him at Jordan’s coffee stand, so intent on neutralizing the Olivera brothers that she didn’t notice she had been stabbed. He thought about the conviction in her eyes when she had shot Marco Sorrel, then the pain when he had yelled at her for it. He thought about her calling him in the middle of the night after weeks of no contact, her voice frenzied when she had heard about how he was threatened. She always worried about him, always wanted to protect him. Of course, he had always worried about her, too, especially with her job. Every time she kissed him goodbye, leaving to go to God-knows-where, he was terrified that it would be the last time he saw her. So far, he had only gotten one phone call from her, on her way to the hospital, a bullet having grazed her. He wanted to be there for her, too, to protect her for a change. But he was an attorney, his only weapon was the law, his suits his armor. How could he ever hope to protect her?

By not getting yourself involved in shit like this, he thought to himself, cursing himself for his stupidity. It was true that the DA’s office had forced this case upon him, but he didn’t balk from it, didn’t even attempt to turn it down. Quite the opposite, he wanted this case, because he knew he could secure the indictment, get the conviction. And the officers involved did deserve it; they deserved to be brought to justice. But Barba knew that this would put a target on his back, he knew and yet he still went through with it. And now Devon was in surgery, a bullet in her shoulder, and who knew if she would survive? Barba had been praying to every God he could think of every moment that he sat in the uncomfortable lobby chair that she would live, that she would be alright. He closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to overtake him. In his mind’s eye, he could see Devon’s soft smile, a twinkling in her brown eyes as she looked at him. But, if he looked too long, her eyes would close, the smile would vanish, and she was an expressionless corpse on the courthouse steps.

Finally, the waiting room fell silent as the head doctor walked into the opening. As if roused from a deep sleep, Barba looked up at him, peeling his chin from his hands, the skin sticking slightly. He shot to his feet, pushing past everyone as if they weren’t there, coming to stand in front of the doctor, desperate for news.

“How is she, Doctor?” Olivia asked, coming to stand behind Barba. He silently thanked her, unable to form words of his own.

The doctor looked between them both, taking his dear sweet time to answer. Barba wanted to throttle him. “Miss Motely is out of surgery and is in recovery. It was touch and go there for a moment; she coded twice on the table. But we’ve done all we can; it’s up to her now.”

Barba’s stomach dropped to his feet, his heart fluttering in his chest. Devon died? Twice? He felt like his legs were going to give out any moment.

“Can I see her?” he whispered, voice barely audible. His throat was tight from lack of use, mouth dry.

“Not yet. Once she wakes up, then she can have visitors. Only one at a time, though,” the doctor informed him before turning and heading off to whatever else he needed to do.

Olivia must have sensed Barba’s legs giving out, because she wrapped his arm around her neck, helping walk him over to an unoccupied chair.

“She’s going to be okay, Rafa,” she whispered to him, squeezing his shoulder in support. He simply nodded, withdrawing back into himself, finding a new spot on the floor to stare at. She coded twice on the table, the doctor’s voice echoed in his head. Barba closed his eyes, one tear slipping down his cheek.

Mercy Hospital

Saturday, October 14th. 5:05am

Most of the SVU and FBI personnel left late the night before, after hearing the doctor’s words, asking to be kept informed on Devon’s condition. They would have stayed, but most had work the next day. Plus, they also heard the doctor say that only one person at a time could visit with Devon, and they knew that that time would be taken up by her boyfriend and close friends. Olivia was going to stay, but Sonny eventually convinced her to leave, citing that she had a child at home to take care of, and that he’d call her the moment Devon woke up. Besides, Sonny had the time; he was the one who shot the man that shot Devon, so he was off work while IAB investigated. Though, Tucker had already all but assured him that he would be cleared; there was enough witnesses to the shooting to know that Sonny had made a good shoot, even with the previous pressure from the public about police brutality. So, Barba and Sonny were left in the waiting room. Sonny had left at some point, but came right back, laptop and textbooks in hand.

“Might as well do homework,” he joked to Barba who made no inclination that he heard. Barba was still staring at the floor. Sonny wasn’t sure if the man had even blinked. He knew that he needed to break Barba out of his withdraw, but he had been unsuccessful. He tried asking the most obvious questions about law, quoted things incorrectly, even tried to justify the Ted Bundy murders. But nothing made the ADA so much as glance at the detective. He soon gave up, resigning to do his work in silence. He couldn’t imagine what the older man must be feeling. He sent a silent prayer for Devon, then turned his focus to the upcoming bar exam.

Barba had decided to distract his mind from that sentence—she coded twice on the table—by trying to bring up every detail about Devon he could think of. He started with physical, the way she flipped her hair over her shoulder when she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she was being mischievous, the way she tapped her fingers against her leg when she was nervous. He loved the way she bit her bottom lip when she was waiting for him to answer her. He loved the way she scrunched up her nose when he made a bad joke. He loved the way she dragged her nails over his skin when they were in the bedroom together, loved the way she sighed contently when he pulled her in for a deep kiss.

He thought about how often she worked, even on her days off. How many times they had been relaxing on the couch, only for her to answer Olivia’s call, or the rare call from Jenkins. He thought about the few times he overheard her talking to victims, whether on the phone or in the precinct. There were even a few times she helped talk to witnesses he had to prep from trial. Hell, even when they went for a walk in the park, she’d help someone whose dog had gotten loose, or gave money to a homeless person, or helped an elderly lady across the street….

I can’t live without her, he realized suddenly. But God, wasn’t that the most selfish thought he ever had? She got stabbed because of him, lost sleep because of him, was shot and died twice during surgery because of him; how the hell could he possibly be thinking of himself at a time like this?

“Mr. Barba?” a nurse called from the entryway. His head snapped up, eyes locking on the woman. “Miss Motely is awake and asking for you.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments, before Barba abandoned the chair, almost rushing past the nurse in his hurry to get to her room, to see Devon, to make sure she was still alive, selfish or not.

Mercy Hospital

Saturday, October 14th. 6:00am

Devon had her eyes closed, though she was awake, alert—well, as alert as she could be with the amount of morphine pumping through her system. It was enough that she didn’t really feel any pain; her mind was floating a little, and she found it hard to focus. She slowly opened her eyes, though, when she heard the door to her room open, Rafael Barba peeking in. She smiled sheepishly, as if she had been caught doing something embarrassing.

“Hey,” she whispered, the loudest she could be, really. She felt weak, tired. Not shocking all things considered. She didn’t remember much, though; she remembered a man at the bottom of the stairs, him aiming a gun at Barba, a pain in her shoulder—

“Hey,” he croaked out, voice not much louder than hers. He came into her room fully, closing the door behind him. He pulled the visitor chair closer to her bed, then sat down gently, eyes never leaving her face. That was when the tears formed, making Barba’s green eyes brighter. He reached out and enveloped her pale hand in his big, warm one, and squeezed her gently.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, tears now stinging her eyes. “I’m okay.”

He smiled, relief evident in his face, as well as a fear that Devon could disappear any moment. “I almost lost you,” he murmured, tears really falling now, on both of their faces.

“But you didn’t.”

They sat like that for what seemed like forever, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, silently crying in relief that they were still here, still together.

“This is all my fault—”

Devon cut him off, “don’t you dare blame yourself for this, Rafael. It’s not your fault some bastard tried to shoot you.”

He sniffled. “But it is. I knew that taking that case could result in that, in this. And I let you come to the office today, to-to protect me—”

“You didn’t let me do anything. I took the day off willingly. I went to your office with the intention of protecting you. And I did exactly that; you’re safe, you’re okay. That’s all I ever want, Rafi, is for you to just be safe….”

Barba sat there, staring at his lover’s face, trying to look for anything, for the smallest sign that she was lying, that she really hated him, blamed him for this. But all he found was love in her eyes; love and a profound relief that he was okay. He squeezed her hand tighter, and she flipped hers over, interlacing their fingers and squeezing him back.

“So, about dinner…” Devon started, trying to break the tension.

Barba chuckled, shaking his head. He wiped his face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I think you’re stuck with shitty hospital food for a while, Cariño.”

“Ugh,” she said, leaning her head back on the pillows in mock exasperation. “Sneak me in some good food?”

“I’ll try, mi amor,” he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently, his heart full.

Devon gave him one of her sweet smiles, and he swore he melted right then. How could he ever have lived without her? He silently thanked every God he could think of for not taking his love from him, not yet.

“At least there’s one good thing about all of this,” Devon said.

Barba furrowed his brow. “Please enlighten me, because I think this is possibly the worst thing to ever happen.”

Devon nodded. “True, it’s not…great. But I will be able to spend more time at home for a while. At least half a year, probably longer.”

“And you, of all people, are okay with that?”

It was true; Devon had trouble staying still. Even on her days off, she was normally out doing something, dropping by SVU or Barba’s office. The only time she was content with staying home was on the rare occasion that they both had a day off.

“I mean, I’m going to have to be. Besides paperwork, there’s not much I can do with a bullet hole in my shoulder and a reconstructed rib. No field work for a bit,” she replied.

Barba nodded; he knew she was going to be a homebody for a while. Which was fine with him. As much as they both supported each other, pushed each other in their careers, he was always afraid when she went out that door; afraid that she wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he was glad she’d be safe at home, even if she went mad with boredom.

“We’ll have to find something for you to do. Maybe you can help me with trials or help SVU with something, like consultations…we’ll talk to Liv about it,” he suggested.

“And besides, now I can be around to protect you,” she joked, grinning. But her smile faded as she saw the pain flicker across Barba’s face.

“You’re not working. Not for a while,” he ordered in a tone that said that she would not be able to argue against it. At least, not anytime soon.

Devon agreed begrudgingly, and Barba stood, making up his mind. “I’m going to go grab a coffee, call Liv and let Carisi visit, if you’re up for it? I’ll be back in right after.” Devon agreed again, and Barba left, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. He was reluctant to leave her, but he knew that others would want to visit, too.

Sonny was relieved to see some of the life coming back into the counselor as he re-entered the lobby. “You’re up,” he told the detective. Once Sonny headed down the hallway, Barba called Olivia.

“Hey, Liv. Devon’s awake; you can come visit her. But first, I need you to pick something up from my loft.”

Mercy Hospital

Saturday, October 14th. 3:30pm

Sonny didn’t visit long—he started with a reenactment of the shooting, then into a spiel about how everyone was happy Devon was okay, and ended with needing to study for an exam—and Olivia showed up at the tail end of it. She handed Barba the thing that he had asked for, which he tucked into the inner jacket pocket of his suit. She then made her way to Devon’s room. This visit lasted longer, ending around lunchtime. When Olivia came out, she told Barba, to his dismay, that Devon had fallen asleep.

“She needs her rest to recover fully,” Liv explained. He knew that already, but his skin was on fire, his heart pounding, wanting to see her again. It was a different kind of buzzing than before; he knew she was alive, that she was going to be okay. Now, he just wanted to see her, talk to her. If Devon coding twice on the operating table showed him anything, it was that life was short, and that he needed to speak his mind sooner rather than later, selfish or not.

He waited a few hours until he couldn’t wait any longer. He got up from the waiting room chair and made his way to her room. He cracked open the door as quietly as he could, shuffling in and closing it softly behind him. Devon was still laying in the bed, dozing softly, chest rising and lowering slowly. The only sounds in the room were the whirling and buzzing of the machinery checking her vitals and the lights softly humming above them.

Barba sat in the chair by her bed, watching her sleep. Devon’s face had regained some of its color since waking up that morning—something about hospital beds made people look much paler than they were--but he was glad to see a rosy-ness in her cheeks that wasn’t there before. Her thick brown hair was a mess around her. Her eyes were fluttering lightly, as if dreaming, her mouth slightly ajar, a thin line of drool at the corner of her mouth. Barba could watch her sleeping forever, even with the nervous buzzing in his mind; she looked so peaceful, so relaxed. The only thing out of place was the hospital sheets and pillow, not their bed, their pillows. Plus, her left arm in the bright blue sling, bruise already forming from the surgery, peeking out from the neck of her gown. He was hoping that she didn’t have to stay here too long, that he could take her home soon, dote on her in the comfort of their own place. He was definitely taking time off, no matter what McCoy said.

He sat there, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing for about an hour, his nerves ebbing away, feeling fully at peace listening to the music of her asleep, watching her chest rise and fall softly, a stark reminder that she was here, that she was alive. Finally, her eyelids fluttered before fully opening.

“Morning,” she said groggily, yawning. She raised her right arm above her head, stretching, then attempted to scoot her butt back, sitting up.

“Afternoon,” he replied back, smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep—I wanted to see you again—”

Barba held up a hand. “No need to apologize. Sleep is good. You should do it more. I’ve been telling you that for almost two years now.”

“Oh god, it has been two years, hasn’t it?” she grinned, smacking her forehead. Indeed, in three months, it would be two years since they met in a dingy bar. They had been dating for a year and a half. It somehow seemed like they had always been together, but also like they were still in the beginning stages. They had never left the “honeymoon” stage, Devon supposed; they were still very much infatuated with each other. She wasn’t sure if that was a testament to how deeply they cared for each other, or with how little they actually saw each other; out of the year and a half, they may have actually spent about a year together. Even so, Devon couldn’t imagine spending her time with anyone else.

Barba chuckled, but then his face changed. His eyes were sparkling, those piercing green eyes locked with hers. His grin faded, but he still looked happy, content. Devon furrowed her brow; she’d never seen this look before, wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. There was a familiarity in it, some sort of barely suppressed excitement which only confused Devon more. He put his hand on the bed next to hers, palm up; a silent question. Devon instantly moved her hand into his and he closed his around hers, his thumb tracing patterns over the back of her hand.

“I love you, Devon,” he started, voice soft, but strong. Unwavering, confident, as if he were born to say them. “Yesterday, I thought that I had all the time in the world to tell you, to show you how much I loved you, in every sense of the word. Then, I learned that that was a foolish thought, something that I should—both of us—should know, should expect in our professions. So, instead of painstakingly planning for the perfect moment, something I’ve been doing for months, by the way, I’m just going to do this now.”

Speech finished, Barba scooted out of the chair, dropping to one knee beside her. Tears sprung instantly to Devon’s eyes. “Are you kidding me?” she breathed out.

Barba chuckled, eyes sparkling in the hospital lights. “Far from it.” He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand, pulling out a long, thin black box. He took his hand back from her grip, opening the box, and Devon gasped. Inside, nestled in red velvet, was a silver dagger, the hilt intricately carved with little roses, small gemstones laid in between the petals. It wasn’t a dagger for use, simply for show. An engagement dagger.

“Devon Motely, I can’t imagine my life without you; these past 24 hours have proven as much to me. There’s no better time to ask in my mind than right here, right now; will you marry me?” Barba asked, eyes searching hers. If he was going to be a selfish bastard, then fuck it, he was going to go full selfish.

Her hand was shaking as she laid there in shock, a smile already tugging at her lips. “Yes. Of course, I will. Do you even need to ask?”

The smile that broke across Barba’s face could provide light for the whole city. “Well, that’s generally how it works,” he replied. She smacked his arm with her free hand.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she said, grabbing at his collar. He chuckled, getting off the hard tile and leaning over her for a kiss. Devon felt all the love and affection that they shared for each other in that kiss. Her heart soared, head dizzy, unable to believe that she was going to be able to spend the rest of her life with him.

“I cannot believe you found an engagement dagger,” she murmured against his lips.

He pulled back, collapsing into the chair and reclosing the box, tucking it back in his jacket for safe keeping. He still had the goofy grin on his face; he didn’t think it was going away anytime soon. “I actually found a small Rajput shop; turns out engagement daggers are still sometimes used in their culture.”

Devon had a matching grin. Devon Barba, she thought, liking the sound of it. She loved that he remembered such a little detail she said over a year ago; he knew she hated jewelry. Not only did rings—especially with gems—catch on things, but they were also dangerous in her job. It was like telling a perp “hey! I’m married, so if you need any leverage, just go after my loved ones!” But she also knew Barba. And, even more, she knew his mom.

“Don’t get me wrong; that dagger is gorgeous, and I absolutely love it. But Mama Barba would never accept that. Besides, I know that you’re old fashioned, too, baby,” Devon took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “After I’m released from this prison, we’ll go ring shopping, okay?”

“Are you sure? I know you hate rings, and I don’t care what mom—”

“I’m sure. And don’t you dare say you don’t care what your Mamí says!” she admonished.

Just then a nurse knocked, before coming in. She started checking Devon’s vitals, which Devon was sure showed a higher heart rate, seeing as she was still soaring. She was engaged! She looked at her fiancé—fiancé—and grinned. She realized that she was going to be able to wake up next to that face every morning, see it every day, lay next to it every night. She made up her mind then and there. She was going to retire from the Bureau. She refused to put her future husband through this kind of pain and torture ever again. And while she didn’t get this particular wound while working for the Bureau, it wasn’t a long shot from what could happen while undercover. What’s has happened a couple times since they started dating, even, though maybe not as severely. She didn’t know what she was going to do yet, but she didn’t care; as long as she got to spend the rest of her life with Rafael Barba, she felt like she could do anything.

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