AN: Sorry this update took forever - the holidays are crazy both professionally and personally! Also, a nice guest reviewer asked for a one-shot about Amanda and Sonny after the whole almost-kiss thing from "Intent" so I'll probably be posting that next. It'll have nothing to do with this ridiculous saga I've created and of course, after it's done we will return to our regularly scheduled Rollins-Carisi family drama. ;-)
tell me you love me / I need someone on days like this
Amanda blinked open her eyes; they were heavy and dry. She was so damn thirsty that swallowing was uncomfortable. The room wobbled and shifted before her, dark except the glow of medical equipment and some low lighting by the windows. She turned her head against the pillow, which sent a rush of dizziness through her. It was a similar sensation to when she drank too much and she tried to lay down and go sleep - except unfortunately she hadn't had a drop of alcohol. Her heart was pounding in her chest even though she hadn't moved in - wait, how long had she been there for? Time was so hard for her to grasp; there wasn't a clock on the wall and she had no idea where her phone was. She hated how jittery she felt, like her skin was crawling and her insides were trembling, but most of all Amanda despised how helpless her condition had rendered her.
With her bed angled upward, she didn't have to move much for Sonny's form to shift into her view. Slumped in an arm chair a few feet from her bed, he was staring out the window. Fingertips grazed over his mouth absently, a habit he had when he was thinking deeply about something. Amanda was sure that he was wearing exactly what he had been when they first entered the hospital: jeans and a faded black henley sweater. Either not much time had passed at all, or Sonny had yet to leave her side.
"Baby," Amanda called, although her voice lacked power. It didn't even sound like it came from her, but then again, she had never felt more out of touch with her own body.
Sonny's head jerked to look over at her. "Hey. You're awake."
"Mm." She couldn't quite make out his face, but he sounded tired. She felt a sudden swell of longing, like she hadn't seen him in days, like he was too far away. It was both humbling and terrifying not to be able to get up to greet him. "Will you lay with me?"
"'Course." Getting to his feet, he walked over to Amanda and sat down at her side opposite of where her IV lines were protruding. He toed off his sneakers, then stretched his long legs out parallel next to hers atop her blankets. An arm went around her shoulders.
Amanda tucked herself into his side, her head settling against his chest. She rested a palm against Sonny's abdomen and watched it move up and down gently with the rhythm of his breathing. She tried not to focus on the IV material jutting out from the top of her hand and trailing up her arm. The bump of skin where the needle sat underneath made her nauseous.
"You okay?" she heard Sonny ask her.
He sounded timid; Amanda wondered if he was afraid. Tears stung her eyes when she realized that, yes, of course he was. She felt guilty that he had to endure this, that she needed him so badly. I love him so much, she thought. He loves me, too. Sometimes I forget it. How could I forget it? She chewed the inside of her lip to keep from sobbing into his sweater. "Uh huh."
"Y'know, the more I see Ruby, the more and more she looks like you," Sonny mused, a hand soothing up and down her arm slowly. "Her little nose and mouth... it's crazy."
A smile flickered across her face. Instinctively, she shifted closer to him, but experienced a sharp twinge in her abdomen in the process. In addition to everything else, she was still sore from both childbirth and her surgery. The pain medication must have been wearing off, but whatever they had pushed through the IV hours ago made her queasy. It reminded her of something. "I had this thought..."
"Hm?" Sonny replied curiously.
"After all this... I mean, if this..." Amanda began awkwardly. It was hard to organize her thoughts, as weak as she was. "I think they're gonna tell me I can't have anymore kids."
"Well, we can't have this happenin' to you again," he reasoned.
"I know, it's just..."
"We said three kids, remember? Now we have three."
"I said it," she reminded him. "I said three kids."
"And I agreed."
"Because I ended the conversation."
The silence that followed sent a surge of dread through an already-frazzled Amanda. She had always had the tendency to worry, but she had never felt so fragile before. She tried to remind herself that whatever was going on inside of her physically was the culprit, but it was hard to harness the energy trapped in that hospital bed. The situation felt so tenuous, all of the most precious things to her threatened by her flawed body, and Amanda's mind was so hazy it was as if she wasn't actually awake at all. Part of her wondered: if everything was so blurry, maybe this was just a horrible nightmare... "I just... I really need you and I, I don't know what I'd do without you and..." she croaked, beginning to cry again, suddenly desperate. "I don't want you to resent me-"
"Whoa, Amanda, hang on," Sonny interrupted hurriedly. He shifted in his spot, maneuvering himself onto his side, trying to get a clear view of her face. "This isn't what you should be focusin' on right now. At all."
She rolled onto her back and sucked her lower lip into her mouth, her teeth sinking into the flesh there in an attempt to ground herself. I feel like I'm going crazy, she thought to herself wearily. No - I was crazy before. Now I'm fucking psychotic.
"All I care about is you gettin' better, bringin' you and Ruby home, and gettin' on with life. Our life," Sonny went on, tone gentle but firm. He reached over her lap and squeezed her hand. "We got a good thing goin', don't you think? I need you, for all of it. When God gives you something, you don't ask why or if there'll be more, you just take care of it. He gave me you and three perfect kids. I even got a dog outta the deal."
"Don't forget Fluffy," she sniffed.
"Yeah. And Fluffy," he chuckled quietly. "D'you understand what I'm sayin', 'Manda? I've got everything I need and it's all because of you."
Turning her head against her pillow, Amanda looked at him. His expression was serious and it calmed her anxious heart. "I understand," she whispered. With the hand closest to him, she reached up so her palm could graze his cheek. He was so warm - or maybe she was particularly cold. "You really are my best friend."
When Beth Anne Rollins showed up in her hospital room at nine o'clock the next morning, Amanda wasn't sure what to think. She was exhausted: she only got disjointed sleep in between transfusions and subsequent blood tests. Defeated, she was too tired to protest her presence. Her mother stood silently by as a nurse restarted one of Amanda's IVs before quietly excusing herself, most likely sensing the wordless tension. Beth Anne then took one cautious step toward her daughter, like she was afraid Amanda had some kind of communicable illness. In a tailored blue dress, a cardigan draped over her shoulders and her pearls around her neck, her mother was dressed like she had just come from the country club and was merely stopping by as a courtesy.
"Mama," Amanda murmured in acknowledgement.
"Amanda," Beth Anne replied coolly. She took another step closer, eyes flickering over Amanda's face and form in the bed. "You look terrible."
If it didn't hurt to laugh, she would have. "Thanks," she replied sarcastically. "I'm surprised you came."
Her expression turned into one of well-practiced surprise. "Why wouldn't I?"
"You're pissed at me," Amanda reminded her. "About Kim."
"Well, Sonny said..." Her mother looked uncomfortable as she fiddled with her necklace. She concluded quietly, "I've just never heard him sound so worried." She cleared her throat. "How are you feeling?"
She picked at the sticky residue left over from old medical tape by her IV site. "As good as I look."
"Well, you know, this is woman's cross to bear," Beth Anne sighed. "The pain and suffering of childbirth."
Amanda blinked at her, awestruck by the woman's aloofness. She wished her throat wasn't so dry, so she could scream properly.
"The baby is beautiful. Ruby is a nice southern name," her mother continued. Another step closer. "Glad to know you haven't totally forgotten where you came from..."
Amanda's eyes flickered to the call light attached to her bed. She remembered how Kim had gotten a nurse to throw her out of her hospital room and contemplated following her younger sister's lead, no matter how dramatic.
"It hurts me that you think I wouldn't come," Beth Anne simpered.
"I can't get Kim outta jail so you're wastin' your breath, if that's what this is all about," Amanda told her with as much power in her voice as she could muster. Her pulse was already racing due to her lack of blood, but she swore it was elevating every second her mother was by her side.
"No, it's not. I know you can't. What's done is done," she assured her quietly. "When can you leave here?"
"I don't know."
"Alright. Well, I was thinkin' maybe, if Sonny's parents want a break, I could watch the kids for awhile."
Her mouth fell open. "What?"
"I never get to see them," she went on timidly. "You never come to Georgia and I'm never here, so, I thought maybe it would be a good opportunity..."
It was then Amanda realized that this was probably her mother's attempt at an olive branch. Beth Anne floundered when it came to apologies; she preferred the pettiness of the silent treatment. Now, circumstances had changed and even though her emotional intelligence was notoriously minuscule, Amanda wondered if this was the only way her mother knew how to express caring or concern. As selfish as she was, even Beth Anne Rollins couldn't sip her martini in peace knowing one of her daughters was in jail and the other was seriously ill.
Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Just... don't talk about Kim, and don't talk about Declan," she instructed curtly. "And please, God, don't talk about me. Just... be their grandma, alright? Can you do that?"
Her mother nodded earnestly. "I can. I will."
Amanda's phone buzzed beneath her sheets. Bleary-eyed, she fumbled for it and squinted at the text: it was from Sonny's mother. The message contained a video of Jesse and Luca on the couch, shouting, love you, mama! Miss you, mama! at Mrs. Carisi's prompting. They looked cozy together, probably about to watch a movie with the hot chocolate Sonny's mother made from scratch. Longing tugged at Amanda's heart; she watched the short video three times just to hear their voices and see their faces. Eventually, she pressed her phone to her chest and closed her eyes like she could somehow transport herself to their side. Earlier that day she had begged the physician to allow her to see them, but the doctor had stood firm in his order to maintain the limited visitor policy. Amanda's lab work was still too inconsistent to call her condition 'improved.'
"I got you something," a familiar female voice announced.
Amanda opened her eyes and let her phone fall into her lap. The room swayed before her; she was always dizzy now. Gina, the nurse that had been working with her since Ruby had been born, was walking toward her bed. "Hm?"
From behind her back, Gina brandished a styrofoam cup. "I snuck you some ice chips. I figured you were thirsty."
Her eyes lit up; it was the best thing she had ever seen. "Oh my God, thank you," she gushed, taking the cup from her eagerly. She could hardly wait to tip it back into her mouth and she did so shamelessly, crunching down on the deliciously cold ice.
"You're welcome. Enjoy," she grinned. She fiddled with one of the machines Amanda was attached to. "Where's your husband?"
"He's with my crazy mother," Amanda replied thickly. "Going to pick up our kids."
Gina nodded. "Gotcha."
The ice popped and snapped in her mouth, soothing her parched throat when she swallowed. She never though she would be so happy to consume something so basic, but the past few days had successfully reminded her to take nothing for granted. As she chewed, she watched Gina move around the room. Her memory was patchy, but from what Amanda could recall, the young woman certainly worked a lot. "This job must be tough, huh?"
"It's funny you say that," the nurse responded, meeting Amanda's eyes with a small smile. "Your husband said the opposite."
"Mm. Doesn't surprise me," Amanda murmured into her cup. "He's the softest cop you'll ever meet."
"That's kinda nice for a change. Most of them are racist assholes," Gina scoffed.
She quirked an eyebrow, amused. "We're not all bad."
Gina's brow furrowed. "You're a cop too?"
Crunching on some more ice, she nodded. "Yeah."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she babbled frantically. "I didn't mean to-"
"Nah, it's alright," Amanda insisted. She had heard far worse.
Color was high on her cheeks as she admitted, "you just seem so..."
She tilted her head, studying the nurse. "So...?"
"Human," Gina concluded sheepishly.
Amanda smirked. "I'm one of those, too."
"If you don't mind me asking..." she went on cautiously.
"You've been between my legs. Ask me whatever you want," she mumbled jokingly.
She grinned. "How do you... how do you guys manage everything, with your work and all that?"
"A good babysitter. Coffee." She shrugged, jostling the remaining ice in her cup and watching it shift. "Sonny's my partner, at work and at home. I don't think you can do it all unless you're a team." Amanda thought of Sonny making dinner, of their unmade bed, of Luca's toy cars tripping her on the way up the stairs and Jesse's lopsided snowman in the backyard. She sighed and looked up at Gina. "When am I getting outta here?"
"You can barely walk," the nurse reminded her gently.
"Am I gonna... everything's gonna be alright, right?" Amanda asked her, almost embarrassed by the hint of fear creeping into her voice. "Everybody keeps givin' me these weird, sad looks..."
Gina offered her the exact expression she had just described. "You're gonna be fine."
"You have to say that to everybody, don't you?" she guessed.
"No, it's just... you seem tough," Gina explained.
See, that's the thing. I'm not, Amanda wanted to reply. I can shoot a gun or throw a punch but this is different. I've never been so scared. Instead, she simply nodded and hoped for Sonny's quick return.
