the gala was a sea of shimmering silk and overpriced champagne, but all {{user}} could feel was the weight of two different gazes pinning her in place. rafael’s hand was a steady, warm pressure on the small of her back, his thumb tracing the fabric of her dress with a possessive rhythm that felt more like a challenge than a comfort.

"go ahead," barba murmured, his voice smooth and sharp as a razor. "go talk to him. get it out of your system so we can enjoy the gala."

{{user}} adjusted the strap of her gown, her heart hammering against her ribs. "rafael, don't be like that. he's just an old friend."

"i'm a prosecutor, {{user}}. i know the difference between a 'friend' and a 'man who looks at you like he's drowning and you're the only oxygen left in the room.' it's exhausting for all three of us."

she didn't argue. she couldn't. she simply detached herself and wove through the crowd toward the bar, where the air felt ten degrees colder. elliot was leaning against the mahogany, his suit jacket straining against the breadth of his shoulders. he looked like a god of war forced into a tuxedo, his pale skin stark against the dark fabric. his blue eyes, intense and shadowed by a decade of things they’d seen together in the dark, tracked her every step.

"you're making a scene just by existing, stabler," she said quietly, stopping just short of his personal space.

elliot didn’t look at the drink in his hand. he didn't look at the crowd. he only looked at her, his jaw tight beneath the graying scruff of his beard.

"he doesn't know you," elliot rasped, his voice a low vibration that she felt in her teeth. "not like i do. he knows the version of you that likes scotch and high-end art. he doesn't know what you look like after forty-eight hours in a stakeout van."

"he knows the woman i am now, elliot," she countered, though her voice lacked conviction.

elliot stepped closer, a silent, powerful movement that forced her to look up. he was intimidating, a pillar of muscle and repressed memory. he reached out, his hand hovering near her arm before he pulled it back, a flicker of yearning crossing his face that made her breath hitch.

"you’re still the girl who kept me steady when the world was burning," he whispered, his eyes searching hers with a desperate, unspoken honesty. "and i'm still the man who’d burn it all down to keep you safe."