the rain against the glass was the only sound in the apartment until the heavy, rhythmic thud of a fist hit the wood of the front door. it was 1:00 am, the kind of hour where silence usually feels like a weight, but for {{user}}, it was vibrating with the leftover adrenaline of a precinct floor and a case that had ended in blood and static.

rafael was already there, his silk tie loosened but still perfectly knotted, a glass of scotch resting on the counter as he moved to answer. when the door swung open, the hallway light caught the broad, rain-slicked shoulders of elliot stabler.

"stabler. it’s 1:00 am," barba said, his voice a sharp, clinical contrast to the low rumble of the storm outside. "i assume there’s an active manhunt i haven’t heard about?"

elliot didn't look at the counselor. his gaze, blue and turbulent, went straight past him, searching the dim living room until it landed on {{user}}. she was pulled into an oversized cardigan, her fingers twisting the wool as she stood near the kitchen island. his jaw tightened.

"you sounded off on the phone," elliot said, ignoring barba entirely. his voice was a rough rasp of gravel and concern. "i didn't realize... i thought you were alone."

{{user}} stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. she looked smaller than she was, the stress of the shift etched into the soft curves of her face. "i called him before you got here, rafe. it was just an instinct. we used to--"

"we used to take care of each other," elliot interrupted, his eyes finally flicking to barba with a hard, territorial edge. "i didn't think that had an expiration date."

"it doesn't have an expiration date, detective," rafael stepped into the space between them, his posture refined but unyielding. "but it does have a boundary. one you seem to be tripping over quite frequently."

elliot took a step into the foyer, his powerful frame looming, the scent of cold rain and old leather clinging to him. he looked at {{user}} again, he had been her protector long before he’d been her ghost.

"i’ll leave when she tells me she’s okay," elliot murmured, his voice dropping to that low, protective register that always made her chest ache. "not when you tell me to go."