AN: So, how about that finale? I've wrote about my feelings about Amaro's exit and Danny Pino leaving the show over at my tumblr and on twitter. I won't be talking about it here because, honestly, I'm tired of talking about it and it bums me out and I'm not the kind of person who likes to dwell on the negative. I'd rather focus on the limitless possibilities of what my imagination can do for Amaro (and Rollaro). Looking forward to season 17, but also looking forward to what Danny's doing next. Looks like he might be working with the Executive Producer of Sons of Anarchy on a new project. You have no idea how much this excites me because I've always wanted to see Danny's acting chops displayed on non-network originals. It's too soon to tell anything for sure, but I have faith that Danny will be fine. So, let's just chill and enjoy Rollaro (or attempt to enjoy it, because with these two... there's always going to be some angst)

This was an anon request from tumblr where Amanda meets the madre for the first time. Cesaria Amaro is an overprotective mother and she's skeptical of her son's "new" girlfriend. When I got this request (ages ago) I thought of something light and fluffy, but since I'm still reeling from the finale and #TheFeels are still heavy on my heart, I took this on another route. Anyway, before we dive in, try to remember that scene in the squad room when Nick suggested Amanda take the sergeant's exam. I think most people missed the significance of that suggestion and focused instead on what Amanda said after, which, fair enough, sounded kind of out of character. But I think a writer (on twitter) might've mentioned that it's in Rollins' personality to suppress the pain and pretend things are fine (I can see that). Anyway... back to the story.

Oh, and in this story, Amanda already knew about Nick's plan to move before he told Liv. In my headcanon, he only said that he hadn't told anyone because he was trying to save his ass.


The Family You Choose


It's a Friday evening and the two of you are on his couch. Your current posture would make your grandmother's spine shudder. But frankly, you're just too weary to reminisce about your childhood when you and Kim had to balance phone books on your head. On your lap, Nick rests his own weary head. You're twirling his hair around your finger; it's been a while since his last haircut so the dark waves are starting to curl at the ends. You wonder if he's planning on growing his hair out and skipping the razor tomorrow now that the suits and ties are stowed away at the back of his closet. In two months, the suits and ties will be in a suitcase getting the TSA treatment between JFK and LAX.

The TV is playing a rerun of a procedural drama you used to follow back when you were living in Atlanta. It's a show that's carved a place in your heart because you often daydreamed of busting perps with the same poise and badassery as the female protagonist. Strong, feminist role models – that was your gratuitious justification. But beneath all those campy cases and intense interrogations, there's an undercurrent of a soap-opera quality relationship between the two leads. It's a classic will-they or won't-they story that brings out your deeply stashed and thickly veiled hopeless romanticism. Your conscience tells you that mixing business with pleasure is a recipe for disaster, but you still root for them anyway because their chemistry goes beyond reason and morals. It's harmless, you try to convince yourself; it's only television.

Nick has a totally different opinion on the matter. But it is Nick, so this revelation doesn't surprise you one bit. There's an acknowledgment of the palpable sexual tension between the two actors; but Nick just can't see this partnership working out.

"Dude's married with nineteen children." He's off by twelve kids, but you get the idea. "Besides, she just needs to get out more… she thinks her partner is the only man out there who'll ever have her back and that's why she's settling for him."

He doesn't end his rant there. The scene shifts to show the male lead getting a pat on the shoulder from their commanding officer. Nick makes a snarky quip about how 'dude' always gets away with violence and coercion, but the brass is never up his ass about it.

You bite your tongue because you know Nick is speaking from a place of experience. You could make a comment on how it's only television. But it could turn out to be one of those seemingly harmless discussions that snowballs into a more catastrophic argument. And you don't want to say or do anything to mess this up, especially not when time is already so limited. Anything you say in response to that quip, even if your intention is to reassure him, won't help because the wounds – both physical and emotional – are still too raw.

The brave face he put on at Noah's adoption party had lifted as soon as you both got back to his place. Initially, you weren't sure if he was so exhausted because of his knee, or if it was because he was trying to convince everyone at the party that it was his choice to move 3,000 miles away and start fresh in California. Most likely, it was a combination of both. But at Liv's apartment, you were all laughs and smiles. Fin even made a joke about following Nick's lead, retiring, and moving to the West Coast. Liv shot your partner a look of horror; afraid she'd lose two of her best detectives in one afternoon. You all laughed, sipped your champagne, cooed over Noah's cheeks, and wished Amaro the best of luck on his new and improved life.

Nick played the role to perfection as he spoke animatedly about having all this free time to spend with Gil and Zara. You believed him about being happy to be closer to his kids, but you didn't buy that bullshit about free time. You've known Nick for four years, and while you haven't always seen eye-to-eye, you're both the type of people who don't thrive in idleness. What he plans on doing while he's in California is a subject neither one of you have broached. You know he's constantly grappling with the situation and trying to figure out his next move, but you're scared by his silence; because you know it means he's at a dead end.

So, when the mask came off and the beer washed down the champagne, you allowed Nick to sulk; because you know how draining it can be to pretend that everything's okay.

In the last month, you've stuck around. From the terrifying ambulance ride, where you prayed to a deity you weren't sure you believed in; to the late night visits at the hospital when you still prayed that, by some miracle, he would fully recover. He recovered, all right, but whether he would ever get the full function of his knee back remains to be seen. Since he was released, you've tried to be there for him as much as possible. Nick never asked you to stay, but he never asked you to leave either.

Some days were challenging. He could get himself into a real mood after a frustrating PT session, and he'd make it considerably worse for everybody involved when he refused to take the pain meds. There goes macho Nick trying to outjockey what two bullets had done to his body. But then there were other times – times like tonight – when the two of you could just sit back and quietly enjoy this time you had left.

He has this close-mouthed smile that never fails to bring out his dimples. He casts one your way, when he wants to thank you for helping him get around the house, for helping him put his pants on before the party, for helping him remember that he's not as weak as his injuries make him feel. You've made it a point to tell him to stop saying 'thank you' all the damn time; so, instead, he flashes that dimpled smile in place of those words.

It wasn't always clear to you, but Nick is probably the nicest guy you've met since moving to New York. In the past, you often mistook his concern for pity or jealousy; but over time you realized that you just weren't used to someone having your back like that. You just weren't used to guys treating you with respect and a genuine concern for your wellbeing. So, in spite of the mood swings and the knowledge of his inevitable one-way flight to Los Angeles, you don't leave him. You don't catalyze the process to save yourself from the pain; besides, it's too late for that. And a part of the reason why you grin and bear it is because you don't know if any guy is ever going to hold a candle to Nick Amaro.

You have to make the most out of what you've got now, before the Nates, Sams, and Charlies come strolling back into this secure nest you've built in the last year.

Nick applies pressure on your hand to dig deeper into his scalp. He groans as the male protagonist shoves a suspect against a brick wall and lifts him up by the collar. "Just watch," he scoffs. "Next episode, they're going to promote this asshat to sergeant."

The sound of the TV drowns out most of the other noise but, you swear, you hear the sound of jangling keys and the clicking of metal. Before you can retrieve your fingers from weaving into Nick's hair and before he can lift his head from your lap, the front door opens. It's his mother.

"Nicky?"

"Ma." He rises too fast and winces as he presses his palm to his abdomen. His mom is immediately by his side, reaching for him. Nick waves his hand to assure her that he's fine. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you dinner," she says in a no-nonsense tone. "You haven't had a good meal in days… what did Olivia serve in that party of hers? Those pequeños aperitivos?" She shakes her head and sets down a stack of Tupperware on top of the coffee table.

"Ma," Nick looks from his mom to you and scratches the back of his head. "Ma, this is Detective Amanda Rollins." He extends his arm out between the two of you. "And, uh, my mom, Cesaria."

You get up from the couch and stretch out to shake her hand; she takes it with hesitation. "You worked with my son? How come I never met you?"

"She wasn't here for Papi's trial."

Cesaria nods her head but studies you carefully as you shift awkwardly. You're not sure if you should sit back down, remain standing, or just get the hell out of there. Before you can weigh all your options, your natural impulse of flight wins out. "It was really lovely meeting you, Cesaria. But I should get going."

"You could stay for dinner."

Your head whips around and you glare at Nick like he's just lost his marbles, and you realize his own mother is giving him the exact same look. He shrugs his shoulders and points to the Tupperware. "My mom's made enough to feed the whole barrio. And you probably haven't eaten since this morning…" he trails off and reads your reaction. You tilt your head to the side and nervously scratch your wrist, silently chastising yourself for giving up that information so easily. "Stay. Please."

Dinner is awkward. Cesaria maintains a tight-lipped smile in your presence, but she only talks to Nick in Spanish. In a clipped tone and with one-word answers, he replies in English to make sure you're not left out of this conversation that is so obviously about you. The only saving grace of this situation is the home-cooked meal that is hearty and delicious – and she's right, better than the finger foods you had at Liv's apartment. Admittedly, this isn't the first time you've sampled Cesaria's dishes because you've been raiding her son's fridge for leftovers since last spring. Nonetheless, you pretend it's your first time sampling Cuban black beans and compliment her cooking solely to be polite.

Cesaria forces a smile then turns to her son and speaks in rapid-fire Spanish. You never really paid attention to Spanish class in high school, but your ears perk up on the word 'novia'.

Nick sets his utensils down and smacks his tongue against his teeth. He draws the napkin to his lips and wipes the corners of his mouth. "Sorry, Rollins," he calls you by your last name, which is a habit you two have mastered when you're in the company of other people. "I just need a word with my mom. Excuse us." He gets up from the table and leads his mom by the elbow down the hallway.

That impulse to flee takes over again and you wonder if they'd even care if they returned to the dinner table and found you had gone missing. You know Cesaria surely wouldn't mind. But you can imagine Nick giving you the cold shoulder for a couple of days for bailing out on this spur-of-the-moment dinner. For a year, you two had gone to great lengths to keep this relationship under wraps that neither one of you breathed a word of it to anybody. Now that he was retiring, maybe Nick was over sneaking around. Maybe, Nick was just over it.

"Que pasa con su esposa?"

"Let it go, Ma!" Nick's voice cries out exasperatedly. "I've told you… I'm not moving to LA to get back with Maria. I'm not havin' this conversation again."

You consider stepping outside to give them both some privacy, but at the mention of his ex-wife, you can't help but have your naturalistic detective tendencies firing on all cylinders. So, you stay where you are and you keep your ears open for any sound coming from the hallway.

"You can make it work this time, hijo. You'll be closer to her and Zara… You won't have this job holding you back."

"It doesn't matter," he replies. A long pause occurs before you hear him speak again. "I don't love her anymore."

"Love?" Cesaria asks incredulously. "That fades away, but you made a vow to work on your marriage. You have to make sacrifices for your family. Even when you think you don't love your wife –"

"Ma, I'm not moving to California to get back with Maria. I'm doing it for my kids. So, can we just drop this and go back to the table… And could you please show some respect for Amanda?"

"Is she your novia? The girl you've been seeing since last year?" She asks him. "You denied for months… Nicky, I can't believe you lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you, Ma. I couldn't tell you… things at work… they were complicated. I couldn't risk adding another mark in my record"

"And you only realized that now? Maria and I have been trying to tell you that for years and you never listened… just buried yourself in that job…"

"Hey!" He yells. "It's done, all right? I ain't comin' back. You got your wish."

"My wish?" Her voice breaks and she sniffles. "Hijo, look at what this job has done to you. Do you think I enjoy seeing you like this? Do you think I want my son to move across the country? Do you think I wanted to see you forced into retirement when you're still so young? Nicky… My heart breaks for you and all I want is for you to find that peace you once had with Maria and Zara. I pray for your happiness all the time…"

He sighs. "Ma, please don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he assures her.

"Es ella catolica?"

"What?" He asks, and you can hear the consternation in his tone. "No, but why would that matter?"

"You really want to be paying alimony to three different women for the rest of your life?"

"Whoa!" A surprised and nervous laugh erupts from the hallway. "Amanda's not… she's not –"

"La amas?"

The conversation is in suspension as you hold your breath. You figure everyone in the house is holding it all in, anticipating his answer.

"Yes."

"Dios mio, Nicky… What are you going to do? She's not making you stay here, is she?"

"No, she would never make me to do that."

"But she's not moving with you." Cesaria shoots back. "If she loved you, she would move with you."

"Ma, it's not that simple." He sighs and it's followed by a long pause. "Her life is here. She's got a career and she's got so much potential. I would never take that away from her."

"Hijo, I just don't want to see you get hurt," she says in a caressing voice. "Long distance isn't healthy. It was venenoso when Maria was overseas, and it hasn't done you any favors since your kids moved away. This is just adding more stress to your life."

"I trust her," he replies. "Amanda and I will make it work."

As much as you wanted to bolt out of that front door, your feet remained firmly planted on the floor. When Nick emerged out of the hallway, he sent you an apologetic look. His mother followed after, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. You're not entirely sure which part of the conversation turned things around for Cesaria, or if she was just putting on a brave face like her son. But when she joined you back on the table, she made an effort to engage you in good-natured conversation. It may have been Nick asking her to show some respect, or it may have been after he admitted his feelings for you. Either way, your nerves eased when Cesaria looked at you from across the table and sent you a small, but genuine, smile that brought out a recognizable pair of dimples.

After insisting on doing the dishes and making sure her son's fridge was stocked, Cesaria pulled you aside and thanked you for being here for him. She didn't cry, pull you into a tight embrace, and welcome you into the family; but it was enough. And you were secretly grateful that was the extent of your moment together; otherwise it would have been too much pressure upon meeting the madre for the first time. Once she peppered her son's forehead with kisses and bid you both good night, you and Nick found yourselves back on the couch. The TV was on but you dialed down the volume. His right leg stretched across the length of the sofa while his head rested on your lap and your fingers coiled around his ebony curls.

"I don't know how much you heard…"

"I heard some of it," you admit, nervously chewing on your lip.

He turns his head from the screen so that he's looking up at you. "I meant it when I said we'll make it work. Amanda, I know it's not going to be easy, but if you're willing to try this long distance thing for a while, then I'll do whatever it takes."

You nod as you caress his head with your palm. He looks so small and vulnerable in this position. "I want to make it work, too."

Nick's smile reaches his eyes as he lifts his hand and traces his thumb along your cheekbone. You bend down for a brief kiss before he turns his attention back to the TV.

You know the odds are stacked against the two of you. People say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you're convinced it's just a saying to keep hope alive between parted lovers. Then, there's the fact that there seems to be very little faith in the success of your relationship. Even if Cesaria had thanked you for being there for him since the shooting, she still thought of you as the anchor weighing him down to the city that ruined him.

You can't really blame her, because from the outside looking in, that's exactly what it looks like. How can Nick have that fresh start when he has you to worry about?

You and Nick come from these complicated families full of mistrust and betrayal, but you both wouldn't trade it for anything. There's love and loyalty in spite of all the chaos. Some people would say that just because you were born into it, doesn't necessarily mean you're obligated to stay. But you and Nick were forced to grow up early and there's always been that sense of responsibility of holding the fort down when your parents couldn't.

While your relationship with Nick started out in the midst of a mess – the shooting of a 14-year-old kid and your undercover gambling operation – you found your stride along the way. The universe threw its shit at the two of you and you leaned on each other for safety and support. The people you were supposed to rely on – the people who shared your blood and who you called 'family' on paper – they had conveniently slipped out when you needed them most. You have been here for him especially during this trying time. And he's here now, with you, to encourage you to reach for those dreams you've doubted. For a while, you were so lost, feeling like a failure to your boss, to your partner, and to yourself that the eagerness that once lit that ambition had fizzled out. Nick was there to remind you that he still believed in you. And while you were still too insecure about his suggestion to take up the sergeant's exam; it still made you feel fortunate that someone looked out for you and wanted to see you succeed.

Nick gets it. He understands what this job means to you and the sense of purpose you gain from being in this line of work. You know he feels the exact same way, and this is why his 'forced' early retirement is so hard on him. And in spite of all the setbacks he's been through and the necessary steps he has to make, Nick still remains the nicest guy you've met since moving to New York. He wants to see you grow and he wants to root for you.

You and Nick come from families with broken lines and jagged edges. You may not share the same DNA or live under the same roof, but in the purest sense of the word, Nick is the closest thing you have to family.