Sonny had to pass the bar.

If he did not pass the bar, he would probably die.

He had studied for months. Before work, after work, at work. He should have bought stock in Excedrin Migraine, because every night his eyes were blurry and his skull was pounding as statutes and cases filled any available space in his brain. He would try to sleep but almost always woke up in a cold sweat after the same reoccurring nightmare: he was tirelessly searching for his I.D. number on the 'pass' list, nose practically pressed up against the computer screen, frantic - only to never find it.

He wished he hadn't told Amanda that today was the day the results came in. She was hovering, circling his desk like a shark in anticipation. Truthfully, Sonny had assumed that she wouldn't be all that interested; she didn't like lawyers much. Or at least, she didn't seem to care for Barba most of the time.

Sonny probably wouldn't have mentioned it to her, except that three days ago, they had slept together. Well, technically there was no sleeping involved. There wasn't even a bed: it took place on the couch in his studio apartment. Twice. It probably would have happened sooner, if he hadn't been dutifully married to his bar exam prep book. That particular night Amanda had showed up at his door with a notepad he had left at her house the week before. He was sort of embarrassed by what a disaster his apartment was, but not embarrassed enough not to invite her in. Then she kept doing that thing where she played with her lower lip, touching, tugging. It was so infuriatingly sexy that Sonny almost asked her to leave just as soon as she had walked in. But then she asked, 'whatcha doin'?' like she didn't know all he did was study and work, work and study. Then she kissed him.

He had kissed her once before when they were drunk. It was not romantic. She had kissed him back, until she shoved him away so hard that he was sure she had broken a rib. That was Amanda: hot and cold. Volatile.

This was not like that. This was mouths and hands and not enough air. This was too good to waste time moving the seven feet to his bed. For the past three days, Sonny had tried not to picture Amanda naked at work. It was a challenge.

Amanda was back at his desk again, over his shoulder as he logged in. His eyes nervously flickered across the screen; so many people had taken the exam when he had, it was a jumble of numbers. Nervously he wondered if Liv would give him the day off to drink if he failed.

Then he saw it: 732-346. He read it once, twice, three times. Was that really his I.D. number? Maybe he had mixed up the sequence, maybe he was looking at the 'fail' list instead...

732-346.

"There it is," he blurted, pointing shakily to the screen.

"What?" Amanda asked anxiously.

"My I.D. number. It's on the pass list," he babbled, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You passed?" Fin sounded genuinely stunned.

"I passed. Oh my God," he exclaimed, flooded with relief.

He jumped up from his seat and hugged Amanda, because that was what he wanted to do. She squeezed him, clung to his arm even after they broke their embrace, grinning like she was proud.

If they hadn't been in the middle of the squad room, he would have kissed her.

Maybe later.

"It's about time somebody smashed that car. Now maybe One PP will give us a newer one."

Amanda rolled her eyes at Fin.

"What's on your neck? A hickey?" her partner continued, eyes bright with amusement over his beer bottle.

"No, Fin. It's from the airbag," Amanda grumbled from her seat at the bar.

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" Fin quipped.

"I'm just glad you're all okay," Liv said from the stool beside her. "Thank God, it could have been a lot worse."

Yes, Amanda thought. Thank God.

"Stay still, Jesse. Please."

Jesse was standing in the middle of the Carisi's living room, wearing a pale pink dress with a fluffy skirt made of too much tulle. Amanda had let her daughter pick out whatever she wanted to wear for the wedding, no matter how ridiculous, and this was the result. It needed alterations, so Sonny's mother was pinning and measuring because of course she did tailoring, too.

"I am," Jesse insisted with a contradictory flail.

"No, you're wigglin' around like you're made of Jello," Amanda told her with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Jesse giggled.

"You know, Amanda..." Mrs. Carisi said from her spot kneeling on the floor. "I've been thinking a lot about what you asked me a couple weeks ago, about gettin' married in the church."

A wave of dread washed over her. "Oh?"

She secured the last pin. "Alright, Jesse, go change. Carefully," Mrs. Carisi directed the little girl, who obediently scampered away. She stood up, rolling up her measuring tape as she looked at Amanda. "I always assumed all my kids would get married in the church. I mean, that's just what you do. What we do."

Amanda tried not to cringe.

"But," Sonny's mother continued. "If God has taught me anything, it's that the way you live your day-to-day life speaks a lot louder than how many times you attend mass. You live your life well, Amanda. You're a great mother, a great police officer. You do whatever you have to do for your kids, for all those people you help at work. You and Sonny, you love one another and you take care of one another, even when it's hard. At the end of the day, that's what matters to me. I would rather you two be happy and married by a Justice of the Peace than miserable and married in the church."

She took a step closer to Amanda and set a hand on her arm, smiling. "All I ask is that you give your kids the opportunity to participate in Catholicism, so one day they can choose whether or not they want be a part of it. And if they choose not to, then we'll love them just the same, just how we love you."

Amanda felt her throat tighten with emotion. She was relieved, she was grateful. All she could do was nod in agreement, but that was enough for Mrs. Carisi.

Amanda, just as she was, was enough.

"Amanda, I don't think I can watch this."

On a Wednesday night, Amanda was curled up on the couch next to Sonny, remote in her hand. "Oh, come on."

"Every episode of Catfish is the same," he insisted.

"It is not!" she protested passionately.

"Yeah, it is. A loser kid thinks he's found true love with some mega-babe online and after three years of text messagin' and weird e-sex he finally gets suspicious that maybe the chick isn't real," he explained sarcastically, waving his beer bottle around as he spoke.

She laughed. "Sometimes they are real."

"The hot ones?"

"Well, no, usually not the hot ones..."

"My point exactly."

"It relaxes me," Amanda concluded dramatically.

He heaved a sigh.

She grinned at him before planting a kiss on his cheek. The moments when they were both home at the same time during the week were rare. As winter melted into spring, SVU became progressively busier. Two nights ago, Amanda had been called out of a dead sleep to rush to Bellevue. Before that, Sonny had worked fourteen hours straight. It was really no different than what their job typically demanded of them, but occasionally Amanda yearned for just a bit more normalcy. Then again, the benign had never really suited her.

Amanda loved listening to Sonny's color commentary when he agreed to watch whatever she had on: it often vacillated between sarcastic and judgmental to genuinely confused. Sonny pretended to dislike MTV, E! and Bravo, but she had caught him watching it once or twice when he thought she wouldn't notice. Usually, though, if he had the remote, it was sports or the History Channel - the former she enjoyed, the latter put her straight to sleep. He had tried his hardest to get her engaged around World War II documentaries and presidential biopics, but Amanda just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

When the doorbell buzzed, she didn't tear her eyes away from the screen.

"You expectin' somebody?" Sonny asked curiously.

"This guy I've been talking to online..." she joked.

Sonny stood up. "Yeah, okay. Whose picture did you use?"

Mouth falling open in mock indignation, Amanda hurled a pillow at him as he walked toward the front door.

Gaze turned back toward the television, she became reabsorbed in the barely-there plot. She couldn't believe people still fell for this stuff - were they really that desperate for love? In a way, it was sort of sad...

"Uh, Amanda?" Sonny's voice rose over the show's dialogue.

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Shh. This is the best part," Amanda said. "They're just about to-"

When she looked over at him, she stopped mid-sentence. He was standing in their living room with her mother.

Jumping to her feet, Amanda demanded, "mom? What the hell are you doing here?"

Beth Anne Rollins offered her a weak smile. "You can't hang up on me in person."

"Why are you here?" Amanda asked angrily. She didn't like surprises, especially when it came to her mother.

"I wanted to talk to you," Beth Anne explained, appearing nervous.

Sonny began to inch his way out of the living room. "I'm just gonna go-"

"No, Sonny. You stay," Beth Anne insisted.

"You can't just show up here," Amanda said irritably, ignoring Sonny.

"Will you just give me a few minutes? Please?" her mother pleaded.

She clenched her jaw before dropping back down on the couch, arms crossed over her chest like a petulant teenager. Sonny sat beside her, appearing profoundly uncomfortable.

Beth Anne took a careful seat in an arm chair, her purse resting atop her lap. "Kim told me about the accident. I'm glad y'all are okay."

Amanda glared at her.

"Anyway, I just... I'm all broken up about our conversation awhile ago. I can't stop thinking about it. I... I'm sorry, Amanda."

"You're sorry? For which part?" she snapped.

"For all of it. I wasn't... the best mama to you and Kim. I let some terrible things happen to you, I know. And I know you think I don't remember it, but I do." She inched forward on her chair, leaning in. "I'll never forget when I was datin' that guy Dave and he was getting rough. You came right into the living room, your hair in pigtails, wearin' this scowl... you said, 'you touch my mama again, I'll blow your kneecaps off.' You were nine years old with a squirrel gun in your hand. Nine years old. I think about that all the time."

Amanda could feel Sonny's eyes on her. He was horrified. She figured it was safe to assume that he had never had to brandish a firearm as a child.

"You always tried to protect everybody," Beth Anne continued. "But I should have been protecting you."

"Yeah, you should have," she agreed briskly. "You can't go back in time, though. So, what do you want? I'm not really in the mood for a trip down memory lane, mama," she added sharply, sarcastically.

Her mother winced. "I know I can't, I know. You and me, we've never had the best relationship-"

"Because you're selfish and critical," Amanda interrupted, sitting up straighter like she might pounce on Beth Anne.

"Amanda," Sonny murmured, setting a calming hand on her thigh.

"I deserve that. But you said if I was better, that I could be a part of your life. I guess bein' critical is kinda my defense mechanism. Keep talkin' about you so you don't get the chance to mention anything about me, that sorta thing. I know you think it doesn't bother me, but it does. It does bother me when you never come back to Georgia, when you don't answer my calls, when you mention things I've done..."

Amanda narrowed her eyes. "Good, I'm glad it bothers you. It should."

Beth Anne nodded solemnly. "I know. I want to try to work on things, though, if you'll let me. I don't wanna miss your wedding. I wanna see my grandbabies grow up. You and Kim, you're all I've got."

There was a sincerity in her mother's voice that Amanda had never heard before. Still, she was skeptical. Much like with Kim, there had been too many years of disappointment for Amanda to take stock in words - it was action that counted. "So... what?"

"I'm gonna be in town for a few days. Kim tells me she's in school now, she wants to show me around campus. So maybe you and me, we could get lunch. Really talk about stuff," Beth Anne suggested.

She exhaled. "Maybe."

"Well, that's not a 'no,' so I'll take it," Beth Anne replied with a small smile. She turned to Sonny. "You're a good man, Sonny. I always hoped my girls would find somebody like you, somebody opposite of the men I picked. I didn't set a very good example, but luckily Amanda has always gone her own way."

Nobody said anything until Beth Anne stood up to go, then Sonny offered, "let me walk you out."

"I'll call you tomorrow, alright, Amanda?" her mother called to her as they moved toward the front door.

"Uh huh," Amanda mumbled, alone on the couch.

When Sonny returned, he immediately voiced his biggest concern: "you threatened to shoot somebody with a squirrel gun?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shut. "It's the south, Sonny."

"Well... are you gonna do it? Meet up with her?" he asked anxiously, sitting back down beside her.

"I don't know."

"I think you should."

Eyes open again, she challenged him. "Why?"

Sonny turned to look at her. "Because I think you've been waitin' your whole life for her to get over herself and apologize to you, and she just did it."

"Maybe," Amanda mumbled stubbornly.

"You should go," Sonny insisted. "Just don't bring your gun to lunch."