AN: If you haven't seen 19x2... SPOILER ALERT! Otherwise, enjoy. :)
They walked silently to the F train in the pouring rain.
It was seven thirty by the time they boarded the subway. Wilted and damp, they crowded inside the car with their fellow commuters. Amanda hung onto a steel pole as they began to move, her free hand scraping wet hair away from her face. The adrenaline that had coursed through her veins hours earlier had dissipated and now she was uneasy. She hated being wrong - she thought Savannah had merely been attention-seeking, she thought she could have charmed Tom - but most of all, she hated the look etched on Sonny's face.
Earlier, his expression had been one of shock, but now, away from the scene and the precinct, it was slack. His blue-gray gaze was unfocused, staring out the dingy subway window like he was in a daze. Amanda hadn't watched Tom plummet to his death, but she had seen the man's body spread out, lifeless on the pavement below. Holding one glove, Sonny had turned to them all, horrified. He had breathlessly explained what had happened - how Tom had slipped from his grip - but his words never reached his eyes. Maybe it was only Amanda who noticed, but she was certain that if the squad hadn't surrounded him in that instant, he would have fallen to his knees.
She chewed on a cuticle as she studied Sonny's profile. Two days ago she had gotten a manicure, something she rarely ever did. Now the pretty pale pink shade was chipped in two places, probably from climbing out of the window and scaling several fire escapes to chase Tom. What a waste of fourteen dollars. She sighed, dropping her hand to shove it into her wet back pocket. Usually Sonny talked incessantly during their commute home, but he hadn't said much since they had left the rooftop. Never one to stray from protocol, he had completed his work diligently but silently, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop until every 'I' was dotted and 'T' was crossed. Amanda had kept her distance as she pretended to be consumed by her own notes, but really she held back because she couldn't comfort him the way she wanted to in the middle of the precinct.
"Mama, look! It's a turkey outta my hand!" Jesse greeted Amanda the moment she crossed the threshold of their apartment. The little girl waved around a piece of construction paper before scrunching up her nose, suddenly amused by something. "You're all wet!"
"I know. I forgot my coat today," she told her daughter simply, peeling off her black blazer.
"Daddy, look! A turkey outta my hand!" Jesse vied for Sonny's attention instead, not satisfied by her mother's response.
He wasn't paying attention as he pulled off his navy suit jacket and draped it over the back of a bar stool to let it dry.
"Helloooo," Jesse sing-songed, waving her artwork while she hopped excitedly around Sonny.
He turned around suddenly, appearing disoriented. "Oh. Wow, Jess. That's great," he told her without even looking at her picture. His voice sounded hollow and disingenuous.
The little girl visibly deflated. She frowned, disappointed by Sonny's lackluster reaction.
Amanda talked to Audrey before she got her things to leave, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sonny walk to the bedroom and shut the door. She tried to focus on what Audrey was saying: Luca skipped his afternoon nap so he went to bed early, she had done her best to try to clean the new rug after Frannie's mishap, Kim had dropped by asking to borrow the vacuum cleaner... all of it was important, but she couldn't focus. After Audrey left, Amanda wasn't entirely sure she had absorbed even half of their conversation.
"What's wrong with daddy?" Jesse asked curiously.
She toed off her boots and left them by the front door. "We just had a long day," Amanda answered, because there was no way to explain what had really happened to a kid. She didn't want to, anyway: she hoped to shelter both of her children from the reality of her work for as long as possible.
"Is he sad?" she wondered, following Amanda into the kitchen.
Amanda sighed as she reached up to take a glass out of the cabinet. "Well... y'know how you get cranky when you're tired?"
"Yes."
"It's kinda like that."
"Does he need early bed time?"
She laughed. "Maybe, yeah." She crouched down to her daughter's level in order to look her in the eye. She tugged at the hem of Jesse's shirt. "I need you to do me a favor, okay?"
Jesse nodded. "Okay."
"I need you to brush your teeth and put your pajamas on, then go hang out in your room while I talk to daddy for a little bit, alright?" Amanda explained.
"Will you read me a story?" she asked.
"If you're still awake, I'll read you a story," Amanda promised her. With a smile, she took the artwork out of Jesse's hands and stood up. "And let's put this beauty on the fridge, huh?"
"Right in the middle!" Jesse demanded.
She took a magnet and hung up the construction paper almost directly in the center of the refrigerator. "How's that?"
The little girl nodded in approval. "That's good."
"Alright. Now get goin'," Amanda prompted her playfully.
Once Jesse was in her room, Amanda pulled Jack Daniel's, bitters and club soda from the liquor cabinet. She may not have been a good cook, but she sure as hell knew how to make a whiskey-based cocktail. She carefully assembled an Old Fashioned, complete with a maraschino cherry on top. She sipped it to make sure it tasted good and then, pleased with her creation, headed to the bedroom. She quietly opened the door and slipped inside, making sure to close it again behind her. Sonny had changed into dry clothes and was setting his watch on their bureau.
"I made you a drink," Amanda offered meekly, holding up the glass before setting it down on the table by his side of the bed. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him. "I figured you could use one."
He gave her a small smile over his shoulder. "Thanks, babe."
She pulled at her damp t-shirt; it was getting uncomfortable. As Sonny moved in the direction of his drink, Amanda started peeling off layers in favor of sweatpants and her favorite Braves t-shirt. Once she was changed, she tied her hair up away from her neck and pulled off her earrings.
"I fucked up, Amanda."
She turned around to look at Sonny, who was leaned back against the headboard, appearing weary. Half of his Old Fashioned was already gone; he must have taken one, giant gulp. Setting her jewelry on the bureau, Amanda moved to sink down by his side. She placed a hand on his knee. "Don't say that."
Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, then dropped his hands into his lap. He looked pained as he blinked her into focus again. "I didn't, I shoulda... if I could have just gotten his other hand-"
"No, Sonny," she interrupted him gently. "It was raining, he was wearing gloves. It was an impossible situation."
"He was lookin' me right in the eye the whole time," he insisted weakly, shoulders slumping. "His life literally depended... on me. I know he was a piece of shit, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die."
"This isn't about 'deserved.' It was an accident," Amanda said, squeezing his knee for emphasis. "I could have had to shoot him on the roof long before he ever got to you. It just... happened this way instead."
"I just wish I... I wish I hadn't seen it," he admitted quietly. He shook his head and winced. "Or heard it. Or... been involved at all."
She looked down at her lap, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She took a moment to gather her words, the subject a difficult one to verbalize. "When I... y'know, with Jeff..." Amanda started out hesitantly. She never talked about Jeff, at least not to Sonny. He knew what had happened, vaguely, and that was enough for her. Now, though, she didn't want him to feel alone in his turmoil. "I shot him. I killed him in my own living room and... and I know that at the time I thought I was doin' what was necessary and God, I hated the bastard, always had, but... but I still ended his life. He shouldn't have died that night, but he did. It's taken me a long time to forgive myself but I don't know if I'll ever forget it. So it's like, like this thing that's always gonna be there but I've learned to... live around it, if that makes sense."
"Live around it," Sonny repeated, his tone empty and distracted. He was a good listener, but Amanda could tell that he wasn't retaining her words, that his head was too filled with other things to make room for her desperate attempt at comfort. Her throat felt tight with the realization that she couldn't crawl into his brain and banish it all. All Amanda could offer was her presence, which in that moment, felt woefully insufficient.
"I'm sorry," she whispered finally, because she was. She was sorry that this happened. She was sorry that she couldn't fix it, even after all of the countless things Sonny had mended for her. She slid further down the edge of the bed, as close to him as possible. With a palm pressed against his chest, she leaned in and kissed him fervently. He tasted like whiskey and sugar. Her lips strayed to his cheek, his jawline, the spot beneath his ear. "You're a good cop, Sonny. You're a good man."
He tilted his head to catch her mouth with his once more. There was a kind of intensity to his kiss that made warmth begin to creep up Amanda's chest and neck. She had been cold for hours, she realized, her bones chilled from both the rain and the circumstances. She shifted, moving so she could rest a knee on either side of Sonny, straddling his lap. His hands received her possessively, gripping her thighs, her ass, then sliding beneath her shirt. The rough way he palmed her breasts made her breath catch in her throat and an anticipatory shiver roll down her spine.
He pulled away slightly, his lips less than a centimeter from hers, eyes still closed. "Where are the-" he began to ask huskily.
"Don't worry about it," Amanda urged him. Leaning back, she pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. "Don't worry about anything."
