could I change it if I wanted / can I rise above the flood? / will it wash out in the water / or is it always in the blood?
Amanda's sneakers kicked up sand. Skin sticky with salt and sweat, she filled her lungs with ocean air as she ran down the Wailea beach path. It was eight o'clock in the morning in Maui and the sun was shining bright above her. She and Sonny had been in Hawaii for a week and all the days had blissfully blurred together. Even so, she was still sadly aware that they only had two nights left.
Three and a half miles completed, she skidded to a halt outside of the now-familiar Four Seasons lobby. Hands on her hips, she paced around, trying to catch her breath. Perspiration shone against newly tanned skin, sticking her white tank top to the neon yellow sports bra beneath it. Running in Hawaii was different than New York City: the air in paradise was thick and humid. As her heart rate slowed, Amanda scraped her nails through her hair to re-do the ponytail she originally put it in. She felt warm, limber and happy.
Inside the lobby, all the staff was smiling, as if they were genuinely pleased to see her. Amanda was certainly happy to see them: it meant she was still on her honeymoon. The air conditioning felt heavenly as she waited for the elevator to bring her up to the seventh floor.
Their suite was a contained disaster: clothes and towels everywhere, the bed sheets tangled, glasses and bottles strewn on all available surfaces. Amanda made a mental note to leave the housekeeping staff a big tip, because they had faithfully cleaned up their mess for the past six days. Toeing off her sneakers and socks, she looked around: Sonny wasn't in bed, but the doors to the private lanai were open. She moved through the room on bare feet until she saw him, long limbs stretched out on the day bed in swim trunks and a white t-shirt, reading the newspaper. She smiled; she was convinced that Sonny Carisi alone was keeping the print industry in business.
"Hi," Amanda said, walking out to him on the balcony.
He looked over the top of his newspaper. "Hey."
She leaned over to kiss him before setting a knee on either side of him, then purposefully flattening her body atop of his, knowing that how sweaty she was would freak him out.
"Oh, God, you're disgusting!" Sonny yelped, wriggling in his spot, newspaper falling to the side.
Amanda let out an evil-sounding cackle as she sat back on her haunches, straddling him. "Is that a nice way to describe your wife?"
He grinned through his distaste. "When she smells, yeah."
She rolled her eyes and pulled her damp tank top off of her, casting it carelessly aside. Just in her sports bra, the mild ocean breeze felt nice against her exposed skin. "We should move here."
He settled warm palms atop her thighs. "And do what?"
"What we usually do." Amanda shrugged.
"Like... a Hawaii 5-0 thing?" He quirked an amused eyebrow.
"Yeah, sure. There's gotta be sex crimes here. Scum knows no bounds."
Smiling, Sonny shook his head. "You'd miss the city."
"I would not."
He chuckled. "You start sweatin' when we spend too much time in Staten Island, let alone in the middle of no where on an island."
"That's because of your family and the abnormal church-to-house ratio in your neighborhood, not the suburbs," Amanda explained dryly.
"I bet you can't get twenty-four hour take-out here."
"I don't need take out. You feed me."
"You'd have to buy a car."
"I like driving."
Sonny raised an eyebrow. "You gettin' domestic on me, Carisi?"
She grinned then shook her head, letting her smile falter a little. "No... I just, I don't know. I don't really want to move to Hawaii. It's too far away. It's just made me think."
"About?" he prompted her curiously.
"Just... where we live, and stuff," Amanda answered him vaguely with a wave of her hand.
Sonny gave her a pointed look, like he knew better. "I know you want a house."
"Sorta, yeah." Her response was non-committal even though Sonny had easily identified what was going on in her head.
Sometimes she really hated when he did that.
"You know we can't stay with NYPD if we live outside of the city," he reminded her.
"I know."
"You got a few million stashed away?"
Amanda snorted. "You and I both know that if I did, it would be gone already."
Sometimes Amanda had fleeting thoughts about gambling. She never mentioned them to anybody because they always passed, inevitably lost in the sea of all the other things that need her attention - her job, her family. Even so, the concept resurfaced on occasion: if she could just hit it big once or twice, they could afford a pretty three-bedroom brownstone by Central Park. For Amanda, gambling never used to be about buying stuff, but money was money. This time she could win and get something she wanted. Then she could stop, then she would walk away.
But Amanda knew better.
If she gambled just one more time, she would gamble a hundred more. Once was too many, a thousand was never enough.
The risk far outweighed the reward.
Shaking her head, the thoughts dissipated. She leaned down to kiss Sonny. "Let's go for a hike. I wanna see the Falls."
Muddy and tired, they reached Wailua Falls. Eighty feet tall, water rushed from the rocky side of a cliff into a large pool. When she saw it, Amanda immediately missed Frannie: she would have loved the chance to splash around.
She peered down from the ledge they were standing on. You weren't allowed to climb to the very top and jump, but you could from the lower tiers. Amanda stripped off her tank top and shorts, revealing a teal bikini. "Do you think it's cold?"
Sonny adjusted the lens on his camera. "Nah."
"Should I just jump in?" Amanda asked.
"Maybe you should try to-"
Too late. It was the perfect metaphor for their relationship: Sonny talked, Amanda acted. Body arcing in the air, she hit the water hands, then head, first. It was cool, not freezing, and the momentum of her dive sent Amanda deeper and deeper into the blue-green oasis. She reached the bottom before her lungs ached for air, then she propelled herself to the top again, head breaking through the surface.
"Come in!" she called up to Sonny breathlessly, smiling and treading water.
Lowering his camera, he looked down at her with a grin. Stripping off his t-shirt and kicking off his shoes, he dove in after her. Amanda craned her head to try to see his movements underwater, but he was hidden by the depth of his dive. When she felt the sudden slide of his hand on her ass, she yelped just as Sonny surfaced wearing a proud smirk. Laughing, she gave his shoulder a shove.
Sonny gave a quick flip of his head backward, sending his mass of sopping hair out of his eyes. "C'mon. I'll race you to the waterfall."
The sentence was barely out of his mouth before he was swimming away. Fiercely competitive, Amanda launched herself through the water after him as if her life depended on it, arms and legs splashing in a passionate effort to keep up. She was no match for his long limbs and head start: Sonny reached the falls only seconds before she did.
"That wasn't fair!" she sputtered, out of breath.
"What? No way," Sonny laughed, using his arm to send a playful sheet of water her way. "Don't be a sore loser."
Amanda scowled, but it was hard to dwell on her annoyance in that environment. The waterfall had created a curtain between them and the rest of the pool they had just swam across, everything misty and humid. Birds chirped, bugs buzzed, trees swayed in the warm wind.
Beneath the water, Amanda wrapped her legs loosely around Sonny's waist and draped her arms around his neck. His hands slid down the sides of her thighs in response, settling against her back. Weightless, she tilted her head to kiss him, murmuring, "I love you, even if you're a dirty cheater."
"Love you, too." She felt Sonny smile against her mouth.
Amanda pulled away slightly and looked at him: his hair was stuck to his forehead, there was stubble forming on his jaw and his eyes were the bluest she had ever seen them, brought out by the color of the tropical water. Lately, she studied Sonny like he was a gift that she had always wanted but never dared to hope for.
In that moment, Amanda practically radiated contentment.
Their last night in Hawaii, they were drunk.
The combination of sun, sea and alcohol was intoxicating. Amanda wanted to feel that buzzed and light forever - she was used to things being so damn heavy constantly. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a vacation, put any distance between her and SVU... probably Costa Rica several years ago, which was more like a hideout in the wake of her gambling disaster than a relaxing trip.
At one in the morning, they stumbled through the hotel lobby. They weren't the only ones: other guests milled around pink and happy, still holding onto drinks and one another. Amanda hung on Sonny's arm, partly because the wedged heels she was wearing were threatening her already-tenuous balance, partly because he was her husband and she loved him and if she could've taken a bite out of him right then and there, she would have.
In the elevator, Sonny leaned back against the wall and Amanda leaned back against him. His hands found her hips, his mouth grazed her hair, and her eyes fluttered closed. When she opened them again, they weren't alone: a young woman stood in the opposite corner, stealing furtive glances in their direction. Their gazes met and Amanda smiled smugly, because for once she wasn't the one envious. Her life was good; her love was something to be admired.
Alone in the hallway outside of their room, Sonny kissed her. It was sloppy, heated, the kind of kiss that was very obviously a gateway to more. She only tore her mouth from his to get them inside of their suite; the happiest sound in the world was the mechanical 'click' of the door when Amanda slid the electronic key into the lock.
The door closed and he was on her again, hands wandering, trying to get her out of her dress. She would have let him continue, but she had other plans. Pushing at Sonny's chest, Amanda broke their kiss. "Sit down."
His heavy-lidded eyes blinked at her, confused. "Wha?"
"Sit down," Amanda repeated slowly. "And close your eyes."
Looking something between intrigued and skeptical, he sat obediently on the edge of the bed. "Why?"
"No, no, I'm not taking questions, sorry," Amanda babbled, giggling as she nearly fell over trying to climb out of her heels. "Just close 'em."
"Okay... they're closed," Sonny promised her.
She snatched something out of her overflowing suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door.
"Where'd you go?" she heard him ask.
"Hey! How'd you know I left if your eyes are closed?" Amanda demanded, voice echoing against the tall ceilings and marble.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Sonny replied sheepishly.
She pulled off the maxi dress she was wearing and tossed it carelessly to the side. It was a challenging thing, getting into delicate lingerie when your motor skills were saturated with rum. Especially the kind she had purchased and secretly brought along: a black stretch lace body suit from Agent Provocateur. The plunging cups were darted with wire and trimmed with scalloped edges. Black seams ran down the body and across the waist and risqué, narrow elastics criss-crossed below the neckline. The back dipped down in a deep 'v' and was topped with further strapping. It was totally impractical, way too expensive, and the second she saw it at the store, Amanda had to have it.
Dressed (if you could call it that), she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hands purposefully ruffled her hair, which was wavy from the salt water, trying to give it more volume. Eyeing her reflection, Amanda felt like she was watching somebody else; this was hardly her normal attire. Despite how strange it was, she felt confident, excited. Black lace did that to a person - especially a drunk one.
Amanda peeked around the doorway. "Are they closed?"
"Yes!" Sonny insisted, eyes shut obediently.
"If they aren't I will never forgive you," Amanda declared dramatically.
Satisfied with his compliance, she walked back out into their room. Approaching him, she instructed, "keep them closed..." as she parted her legs and straddled his lap. He kept his hands up like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch her, either. "Okay, open them."
He did so almost immediately, pupils dilating wide at the sight of her. His gaze flitted over her body, lingering on all of the places the lingerie accentuated. His palms slid up her bare thighs before they splayed over the lace that was pulled tight over her ribcage. "Wow," he breathed. "You look amazing."
She kissed the side of his face. It would have almost been cute and innocent except that in this getup, it was just coy. Shifting a little bit, Amanda moved underneath his hands to make it easier for him to touch her, almost purring, "y'like it?"
"Are you kiddin' me?" he chuckled quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. The hands against her torso slid downward to possessively grip her ass, pulling her closer. "I love it."
"You gonna show me just how much?" Amanda murmured seductively in his ear, a finger trailing down the center of his chest.
He answered her question wordlessly but confidently: in one, swift movement, he practically tossed her onto her back on the mattress, hovering over her as he pulled off his t-shirt. Breathless, she was stretched out beneath him, all liquid limbs and lace, heart pounding like it was the very first time he had ever touched her.
Of course it wasn't. Hardly. It was the millionth, but it didn't matter. Amanda never knew it was possible to be so consistently enamored with one human being, but Sonny showed her how, over and over. She hoped that he would never stop.
They walked back into the SVU squad room together like they were coworkers who had merely been on the same elevator, not husband and wife.
Coffee in hand, Amanda looked a little more tan and a little less tired than usual. They had only arrived back in New York yesterday afternoon. As much as she had loved Hawaii, she had been thrilled to see Jesse, Luca and Frannie, all of whom were more than adequately taken care of by Sonny's parents.
"Carisi," Liv greeted Sonny brightly, then added to Amanda, "and... Carisi, glad to see you back."
"I'm still Rollins," Amanda insisted, because she was, at least at work.
"Good, that was going to get confusing," Liv remarked.
"Elsa, you look tan," Fin quipped from his chair. A witness had called her that once and he never let it go.
Raising both eyebrows, she dropped her purse on top of her desk as she shook her leather jacket off of her shoulders. "Miss me?"
"A little," her partner admitted.
"You miss me?" Sonny asked eagerly.
Fin rolled his eyes. "No."
Liv stood in front of all of them like a teacher waiting for her students to settle down. "Alright, now that we're all back, first order of business: Rollins, I need your help."
"Oh?" Amanda opened up her laptop.
"I need you to set up a fake ad as a prostitute and post it on Backpage," Liv explained.
"Just another day at the office," Amanda murmured sarcastically.
Liv smirked. "There's a Super 8 hotel in the Bronx that has been getting a lot of action lately. It's scaring real paying customers away. Between Narcotics and SVU, we're hoping to do a sting there. Narcotics is going to take care of the other girls working out of there, while we'll focus on the johns." She fiddled with her eyeglasses. "I would have done it before you got back but..."
"But I make a good prostitute?" Amanda finished her sentence jokingly.
"Something like that, yeah," the lieutenant agreed with a grin.
"How come VICE isn't on this?" Sonny asked curiously.
Liv shrugged. "No idea, but as of now this is a Narcotics-SVU sting and I'm not going to make waves. I try to limit my interactions with Murphy."
Nobody said anything and it was awkward.
Amanda logged on to her computer, eyes on the screen, keenly aware of the uncomfortable shift in the conversation. "I'm on it, Lieutenant," she assured Liv with a tight-lipped smile.
Jesse would not stop talking.
"Can I have chicken nuggets?" the little girl asked her fiftieth question of the night.
Amanda sat by Luca's highchair, unscrewing a jar of baby food. "No."
"Please?" Jesse pleaded.
"No."
"Nana let me have them."
"Dad's makin' dinner."
"Why don't you make dinner?"
"Because I'm bad at it."
"Ella's mom-"
"Jesse. Go put your toys away, please." And shut the hell up for just five minutes, she wanted to add, but of course she never would. She felt guilty when she got annoyed with either of her kids, but she was only human - and often exhausted - so it happened.
"Yeah, 'Manda, why don't you make dinner?" Sonny asked with faux curiosity from his place by the stove.
She gave Sonny her iciest glare over her shoulder before returning to the hungry six-month-old. She filled a little plastic spoon with pureed sweet potato and used it to nudge open Luca's mouth. His eyes got big - lately when he ate something he liked, he looked practically elated, which was a definite indication that he was a Carisi.
"That's good, huh?" Amanda chirped approvingly. "And mama doesn't even have to cook it."
Her phone buzzed on the table. Scooping up some more baby food, she looked over at the screen: Declan was calling. Amanda rolled her eyes. She knew why he wanted to talk to her: now that their honeymoon was over and they were back to their regular routine, he wanted to see Jesse.
She declined his call.
"You're a popular prostitute," Fin observed over her shoulder.
"Aw, shucks, Fin. Thank you," Amanda simpered sarcastically, phone in her hand and feet on her desk. "I've got a lot of dates tomorrow night."
"What kinda scum you reel in?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, you know, just a buncha run-of-the-mill charmers..." She stopped suddenly, eyes on her latest message. "Holy shit."
"What?"
Amanda sat up straighter and pointed at the photo on her screen. "This guy. This guy... it's Bishop Livingston."
Sonny perked up at his desk. "He's the one who did the public blessing for Mayor de Blasio when he got elected. What about him?"
"He's seeking my services," Amanda told him, tone deadpan.
That got Sonny's attention. He stood up and joined Fin over her shoulder. "What?"
"Look," she prompted him, holding up her phone. "He just sent me his cell phone number and offered me two hundred bucks."
"You gotta be kiddin' me," Sonny breathed, sounding genuinely surprised.
"I don't know why you're always so shocked about this stuff," Amanda remarked crassly.
"Easy, Rollins," Fin warned her, looking amused. "You can take the boy outta the church, but you can't take the church outta the boy."
Sonny rolled his eyes. "It's just... gross," he concluded, downtrodden.
"Men are gross," Amanda reasoned.
"Hey!" Sonny and Fin replied indignantly in unison.
"Not you guys, of course," she insisted hurriedly before adding, "the rest of them."
Sometimes, Amanda really did believe that she knew the only two good men out there. It made her feel sad and lucky all at once.
