Shacky Whacky

This chapter takes place during Season 17 Episode 9

"Hello? . . . Hello?"

Distantly, she hears . . . "I'm going to take this care package up to Rollins. She is still on bedrest and she is going shacky whacky."

What the?

Amanda throws her cell phone back down onto the bed. "Fuck you, Carisi!"

But then she immediately calls him back. It goes to voice mail – she's assuming it's because he's still on butt-dial.

"Carisi, you can forget about coming over here tonight. I don't want to see you or this cake you keep raving about. Nothing!" she seethes. "You are such an unbelievable ass!"

She hangs up the phone again. There – she feels better now.

And then she starts crying.

No, she doesn't feel better after all. She calls him back. Voice mail again.

"Hey there. I'm sorry – I didn't mean it. It's just . . . well . . ." She thinks to herself for a bit about what he had said, changing her mind. "You know what? How DARE you! I'm still pissed at you. Don't you dare come over here tonight."

She hangs up again. More tears. Alternating with anger.

The anxiety she's been feeling is absolutely killing her. The baby is due in one day. She really wishes Carisi was here so she could talk to him, but he thinks she's going 'shacky whacky'? And tells someone else about it? That won't stand.

But then she misses him again. Unbelievably, she finds herself picking up her phone and calling him.

"Carisi?" she practically whispers into the phone. I need you, she almost says, but won't let herself do that. She hangs up before she admits something she'll regret.

So she just lays there in the dark instead, letting her anxiety consume her. Alone. She's supposed to do this all alone, right?

Carisi notices he's got three messages from Rollins. Must be important. Well, he's on his way now. He promised he'd bring her a treat from the bakery on Staten Island. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he's got limited time because he plans to stop by her place on the way to speak with Dolores Rodriguez – to help bolster her confidence in preparation for testifying the next day.

He's glad he has been shadowing Barba on the Hodda case and keeping his mind so busy. He's been feeling really weird since Amanda basically told him to back off. The more he sits with his thoughts on that, the more it feels like a stinging rejection. And what keeps driving the knife in deeper is that even though they have spent way less time together because he's completely backed off, she's now starting to call him to ask him for things – little things. Asking him to come over, like she did today. Talk about mixed messages.

He's musing over this as he listens to the messages she's left. And speaking of mixed messages – she's a total wreck. This is just hormones, though. It's gotta be. Bella went through a freak out right before giving birth, too. He decides to stop at Amanda's place last, expecting it to take a while.

Carisi turns the key in her lock, its green ribbon falling over the web of his hand between his thumb and his forefinger. In the other hand he holds a bag from Pangione's. He had taken a break from work in the late afternoon to go all the way to Staten Island during rush hour just to get something for her, and then returned to the precinct to look over some stuff for Barba in the early evening.

Yeah, he has to admit it to himself. Even if he doesn't have a chance in hell with her, he wants to be there for her anyway during this time. Because he still cares. He really does care.

"'Manda?" he asks as he lets himself into the dark apartment.

No answer.

Everything is dark – even her bedroom.

He pushes carefully on her bedroom door and says quietly, "'Manda?"

She's in bed, unmoving, and he wonders if she's asleep. But as he draws closer he can see what little light there is in the room reflected in her eyes. So he knows that they are open, and that she is not asleep.

"What are you doing here?" she asks with a low hiss.

"I brought you – "

"How dare you? I told you not to come."

"Yeah, well – you did but you didn't – "

"Were my THREE messages not clear?"

"Uh, no actually. They weren't."

"Men," she says dismissively with a huff.

"Pregnant women," he mutters under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear.

And surprisingly that gets a chuckle out of her. Which turns into a sob almost immediately.

"Hey Amanda, don't cry, okay? I brought something for you."

He goes over to her nightstand and turns on the light. She's wiping her cheeks.

"Okay, what is it?" she's trying to smile through her tears and managing to do a pretty good job of it.

He goes to pull over the chair he's been sitting lately when he visits her while she's resting in bed instead of on the couch.

"No, Carisi, it's okay." She stops him, patting the bed beside her. "You can sit here. I want you to sit with me."

"You sure?" he raises his eyebrows. More mixed messages. This is not fun. He knows she's hormonal, but still . . .

"Yeah, come on," she gives him a little wave. "Have a seat."

"Okay," he says a little uncomfortably. He knows she's going to snap again – he can still feel the unreleased tension between them.

But he sits anyway, pulling the bag from Pangione's onto the bed. Maybe if he's entertaining enough . . .

"Whatcha got for me?"

"Well . . . you wanted something unique . . ."

"Uh huh."

"And Italian . . ."

"Uh huh."

"From Staten Island."

"Yes."

"But not me."

"No, never you."

"Cause I fit the bill there, Rollins. You do know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waves dismissively as he chuckles. "What's in the bag?"

"Panettone!"

"Lemme see."

He pulls it out.

"Fruitcake?"

"Italian fruitcake. The original."

"Are you kidding?" She doesn't sound pissed, but rather amazed.

"Nope."

"How did you get this? It's November . . . they don't sell this stuff this early in the year, do they?"

"Well . . . I know this guy. Down at the bakery I went to for you today, you know, on Staten Island?"

"Uh huh."

"And when I told him about you – "

"What?!" she interrupts. And there it is. The rage is back. "I can't believe you! First you tell someone that I'm 'shacky whacky' and then you – "

"Well you are, you know," he interrupts.

"I'm what?!"

"Shacky whacky," he says, making little crazy person circles at the side of his head with his fingers.

"Get out," she says in a low voice.

"Do you really want that?" He's not sure – he's really not sure he wants to leave her alone like this. She's been all over the map today – worse than he's seen her so far. Shacky whacky doesn't even begin to describe this anymore.

"I don't know." She starts crying a little and shakes her head. "I really don't like it when you tell people about me. Like I'm someone in your life, someone who . . . "

"Who what?"

"Carisi, your MOM knows about me. You told your mom."

"So?"

"My mom doesn't know anything about you. And yours was lighting a candle in church for me?"

"Well, you don't feel the same way about me that I feel about you." He shrugs. "You already called me on that, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," she says softly. The tears are gone. "When you told me that about your mom I realized how far gone you were."

"Yeah, well," he looks down, embarrassed for always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He wonders how others hide their emotions so well. He finds it impossible.

Surprisingly, she reaches a hand out to his cheek, guiding him to look at her.

"It's not a bad thing, Carisi. It's sweet."

He allows himself a small smile, but he is wary. He knows this isn't going anywhere. Her hand falls from his face.

"I meant what I said, you know, about you being able to handle this. You've handled everything in your life just fine as far as I can see. And my mom praying for you? That's just to give you some support in this – support from God. An extra boost if you will." He smiles at her at little bit.

"And that's why I'm freaking out today, Carisi."

"Huh?"

She gulps down tears that threaten to spill again.

"I'm so afraid," she practically whispers so that he has to lean in closer to hear what she's saying.

"Of what?" He knows there's more here than she's ever told him. This is why he's here.

"I don't think I'll be a very good mother. I'm not sure I'll even like it."

"Hey now," he says and takes her hand.

"I won't, I just know. I have so many hang-ups surrounding my own mother. I don't want to be HER."

"You won't be, trust me. You are so different than her."

"Am I?"

"Yeah," he says adamantly. "For one, you're not an alcoholic. You're not going to abandon your child – leave them to fend for themselves. I know you – and you wouldn't do that."

"You have no idea," she says dismissively, and turns away thinking about the gambling. Carisi has no idea that she has to attend GA regularly to keep her demons at bay. And since being on bed rest, she hasn't been able to make a meeting – but thankfully it has also made it difficult to go out and play.

But Carisi's been good to talk to – not a substitute for a meeting, but still something good in her life. She looks forward to his visits. She had really needed to talk to him today. The baby was coming. And soon. This was all quickly becoming very real to her and very frightening.

He strokes the top of her hand with his thumb. "I have faith in you, Amanda. Even if you don't have faith in yourself."

"And I need to hear that, Carisi," she says, turning back to him. "But that's what's wrong here. With us."

"I don't follow."

She brings both hands to her forehead in frustration. "God, I don't want to be this way."

"What way?"

"Dependent. On you. On anyone."

"You're not dependent on me." He firmly locks her gaze in his. "At all."

"Really? Then why do I 'need' to hear that you have faith in me, huh? Why do I like it when you keep me company? Why do I want that so much?"

He's a little taken aback at that last part, not having expected to hear anything like that from her. But it explains her recent calls.

"Okay, as far as the last thing you just said . . . could it just be that you like me, Amanda? I am quite entertaining, if I do say so myself."

She smiles a bit at that and he continues. "People who like each other do like to spend time together. There's nothing weird about that – or in wanting that."

"Yeah, I guess, but everything altogether? It makes me feel weak."

"Weak? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I don't like feeling this way. I feel like I need your encouragement. Like I'm using you by having you come over here. Taking advantage – "

"Look," he interrupts her. "That's your mother talking. Completely."

Her face changes as she takes that in.

"If someone offers you something? That's not taking advantage," he says. "It's okay to accept my faith in you – even if it's exactly what you think you need to hear in the moment so that in some odd way that makes you think it's wrong. It's not, believe me. It's okay to accept my help with this stuff."

She nods a little, but still wrestles with believing his take on this.

"Look, I know your mom taught you otherwise. To never depend on anyone but yourself, to never accept help. But sometimes it's okay to accept help when it's offered. She was wrong, Amanda." He looks at her tenderly. "And you know why she was. We've talked about this."

"No, she was right. She was right, Carisi." She just shakes her head, the guilt overwhelming her because of the tenderness in his eyes. He is too nice. "I can't do this. I can't let myself do this to you."

"Do what?"

"I think you should leave now. For real."

"What – "

"And please don't hover around me once the baby is here, okay? Not like you have been."

Huh? He's backed off lately – entirely. He's only "bothered" her when she's asked him to. What is she saying?

"Look, I know you'll want to be involved some when the baby comes, and I'll let you. But please share the burden with Fin. I can't dump this all on you."

"Can't dump? Amanda w –"

"I'm serious. I need to handle this on my own. You've gotta let me." She looks at him and he can see the strain all of this is causing her, the tightness in her eyes as she pleads with him.

Sure, he thinks. Even though I know that's not what you really want. But he decides to honor her wishes – he can't be there for her if she won't let him.

"Okay," he says and sighs deeply, pats her hand, and lets himself out.