The House That Built Me

by Mileycfan4eva

Amanda's world has always been unstable, like a house built out of a deck of cards. What happens when her newfound happiness comes crashing down; and secrets are revealed. Can Olivia help her pick up the pieces of her shattered heart; can Ayanna help Jet recover from a devastating loss? Formerly called Lost Boys, rewritten.

1. Chapter 1 Talks from the recliner

Fandom: Law and Order Special Victims Unit

Title: The House That Built Me

Chapter 1: Talks from the recliner

P O V: Amanda Rollins

A/N: Original characters are my creation. All others belong to Dick Wolf and wolf Ent. This fic will start with Sonny/Amanda shipping but eventually moves to Olivia and Amanda. I can't stress enough to all my readers. If you want updates, please leave a positive review. I am hoping to return to work next week, both jobs, so my time will be limited. If you like this fic and want to see faster updates. Please leave a positive review or I will take it as a sign no one is interested.

Residence of Amanda Rollins

939 Woodycrest Ave

Bronx, NY 10463

"Amanda, if I taught you nothin' in this life. Listen to this true and tried fact worryin', is like a rocking horse. It keeps going but gets you nowhere. Kingston is a high-strung, ambitious, growing young man exploring his roots and spreading his branches into all aspects of life. They are bound to get him into trouble along the way Lordly knows you, and your sister surely got into a scrapper or two back in your young-in' days."

"You might have suffered some hurtin' wounds, but they left you with scars, which you all wear like badges of honor. Kingston is a good kid, and you are a good mama, Amanda, so stop your fussin' and cussin' honey-child. Go fix yourself some brew and get yourself ready for this day you got some criminals to catch."

Tiny giggles escape my lips in between puffs of my 1st-morning cigarette. "Thanks, Papa; I needed your words of wisdom today. I'm trying not to worry so much, but it's hard. There's just so much more to worry over with today's youth them when Kim and I were kids growing up in the '80s."

"Is there Amanda? Or is it you are just more aware of the dangers because you're a mama now?"

Suddenly my G'ma's voice cuts through the conversation between my grandfather and me with her classic southern twang. Her voice is laced with sarcasm and impatience. "Hush now both of you fools you both be talkin' gibberish there ain't no more to worry over today than when any of our generations were growing up it's simply the dang atmosphere in which a child is growing up roots are the foundation for every tree to grow children are simply human trees they need to be nourished, given space to spread their branches; a child growing up here in the south will forever have more room to spread their branches than a child growing up in a cramped apartment in an overpopulated city."

"If a child grows up hearing anger, he learns to express himself through rage; if a child hears fighting, he grows restless. He learns to be defensive if he grows up in a neighborhood where he sees drug deals and witnesses gunshots. If a child grows up with soft music and home-baked cookies hearing words of encouragement, he learns self-confidence and the feeling of security and peace. If a child sees drug dealers being glamorized and feared, he learns they're respected and powerful. He can justify their actions and understand crime can pay if you can become a master of the trade. It's easy to see how a child can lose the path from Jesus; once a child loses Jesus, he is a lost boy forever doomed to lead a life of pain, sin, and loneliness."

"Yes, Nana, I understand, but Kingston hasn't lost Jesus."

"Oh really, now child, when was the last time your children been inside a church?"

"I prove my point, Amanda Scott Rollins. My silence as I try to think back to the last time any of my boys were inside a church is all she needs to howl in disbelief and shame. You can't even remember that is a right ol' shame. Where is your head at, child? A boy needs Jesus in his life!"

"Yes, Nana. I promise I'll take them to church this Sunday. Have to go now, Nana; I love you and Papa. Have a wonderful day,"

Hanging up the phone, I lean my head back, sighing, imaging my grandpa sitting in his recliner smoking his cigar as he rattles his fist at the news, his dog River sitting patiently by his side until it's time for breakfast. My Nana is sitting across from him, knitting both in front of the big bay window overlooking their crops, which they still help harvest today. Their cat, a fifteen-old tiger, sits on their windowsill, meowing at them for his breakfast as he cleans himself.

"Good morning, beautiful." Dominick Sonny Carisi comes up behind me shirtless in only his boxers, his blond hair messy, swirling in all directions. Sonny's arms wrap around my waist. As I rise to greet him, his lips graze the top of my head. "How did you sleep? I woke up to feel your side of the bed empty." Worry is etched inside Sonny's voice as he shuffles over to pour himself coffee.

"Yeah, every morning, I always wake up early to call my grandparents." Taking a long drag of my cigarette, I lean my head down on his shoulders, coming up behind him. "That's sweet, Amanda; I never miss a Sunday in church with my grandparents. There ain't no furry greater than an Italian catholic grandma scorned."

"What are you smiling at so wide, Amanda?" "you." laughing, I flick my eyes up to Sonny, unable to stop myself from smiling. I laugh as I watch him attempt to dance as if he is Danny in grease, shaking and rolling his hips, hitting his butt as he looks over his shoulder, winking at me. Tears of joy fall slowly from my eyes down my cheeks as I gasp in fits of laughter. "I've never heard you laugh this loudly or long, Amanda; it's a beautiful sound, one you need to let out more often. If only I knew all it took was me to shake my ass."

Crossing my two hundred and forty-six square feet kitchen, I close the gap between our bodies. "yeah, who would have known, babe? We've never gotten the time to wind down alone without our friends or the kids around. Never have time to whisper naughty thoughts or hold each other hell; we barely have time to kiss."

"We should change this, Amanda; we need to control our lives, not everyone else."

"You still take my breath away every time I see you, Amanda. I never want to live to see the day when I am not blown away by looking at you. We need to take the time to hold up our foundation."

"I agree, Sonny; you have lit up a spark inside of my stomach and heart, which I haven't felt in such a long time. Thank you for believing in me, standing by my side, loving me unconditionally."

A warm radiating feeling erupts inside my chest. Sonny pulls me closer, our bodies swaying slightly, my head resting on his shoulder, musty cologne fills my nose. Sonny's lips graze across mine the minute I lift my head to look into his eyes. Warm tenderness covers my body in a blanket of comfort. Being loved by this man has me shocked; butterflies beat their wings, rapidly lifting my heart onto their backs. Our kiss deepens soft, holding enough heat and passion making my blood burn; my excitement flushes my cheeks.

"What about a vacation? Even if it's only a weekend, I can see if Olivia or Kat could watch the boys, Sonny."

"Sounds amazing, Amanda. Now, where should we go, the beach or the mountains?" Sonny's arms tighten as he pulls me closer, his fingers curling through my hair, still damp from sweat. "I love the smell of your hair, Amanda, fresh like strawberries; I imagine how amazing a strawberry field must smell when the fields are ripe."

"Oh, man, you've never run through a strawberry field, Sonny. We should go down south for a getaway; you need to experience a strawberry field in person."

Taking my hand's Sonny spins me around laughing, pulling me to his chest. My head leans back, so it's against his shoulder. "Wasn't much of a chance to run through strawberry fields growing up on Staten Island." Leaning down, Sonny's eyes sparkle as he kisses me deeply, making my knees go weak. "Enjoy your coffee, sweetheart. I will wake the beast boys up." "Oh, you are so brave." I laugh, kissing his nose as I head into the kitchen to make eggs.

My smile never falters as I crack the eggs over the pan. It's incredible how I landed a man as phenomenal as Dominick Sonny Carisi successful and ambitious; Sonny is an honorable man who values hard work, family loyalty, and tradition. He strongly believes in Jesus and never misses a Sunday in church; he's stayed by my side ever since we met ten years ago, becoming my best friend and partner on the job, which over the years has blossomed into a beautiful friendship off of the job he never judged me for being a single mother to my kids.

My personal life has been rough between addictions to gambling, drinking, surviving a sexual assault, months of battling P.T.S.D. I moved to N.Y.C. to escape my past. I had no family by my side but my three partners in my new unit, Manhattan Special Victims Unit, Olivia Benson, Odafin "Fin" Tutuola, and Nick Amaro. Olivia and I weren't particularly close most days; we barely got along, disagreeing on how to solve cases, approaches on how to talk to victims.

Sonny joined the unit six months later. He and Nick became my backbone, easy to talk to, and funny. They got along with my kids; Nick had two kids, and Sonny has so many nieces and nephews. Nick and Sonny were the partners I trusted with my life; after a while, Nick and I started dating. We fought a lot, but our passion in the bedroom made up for any disagreements. After Nick moved away, I was heartbroken. Sonny became my sounding board, never judging. Over time, I saw him as more than a friend, but it scared me to make a move, not wanting to be hurt again or jeopardize my repetition; I've had rumors started about me in the past. I didn't want them following me to N.Y.P.D.

I kept my feelings hidden for years, putting on a smile whenever we were together, until May, when I finally took the risk of kissing Sonny. We've been together ever since it was a perfect night standing by the riverfront overlooking the night skyline of Manhattan surrounded by friends. I haven't stopped smiling since that night, and my heart has been skipping in happiness.

"Guys, can you come in here, please?"

Sonny calls my kids, surprising me. It's still early, yet the kids don't have to hurry yet. We have time before our rush hour has to begin. Frannie Mae barks excitedly, prancing around me, demanding her breakfast. Reaching down, I gently pet her head. "Just a minute, sweet girl, mama will feed you as soon as I figure out what your uncle Sonny is up to; there has to be something he's acting suspicious, and no mama ain't being paranoid."

Coming out of the hallway, my fifteen-year-old twins Kingston Scott Tyler-Rollins and Edison Scott Tyler-Rollins are holding bouquets of roses. Grinning towards each other and Sonny, who whistles for Frannie Mae to come over.

"Amanda, I think Frannie Mae has something for you." Looking from Sonny to our dog Frannie, I get on my knees and call her over. She runs back over happily, still thinking she's getting food. Petting her, I kiss her head as she licks my cheek; as I am petting her, I feel something hard sticking out of her collar. Pulling it out, I hear myself gasp as I see the object I have pulled out is a small black velvet box.

Sonny takes the box from my shaking hands and smiles at me, getting on his left knee. "Amanda Scott Rollins, I can't imagine growing old with anyone else, nor do I want to. I know you're the only one I want to share the rest of my life with; the story of our love is only beginning. Let's write about our happy ending. There are many ways to be happy in this life, but I need you and the wonderful family we are building. When I look into your eyes, I can see a reflection of the two of us and the life I hope we'll share. I know my life will never be complete without you beside me to share it with; when I look into my heart, I see only you. If you can look into your heart and only see me, then we should spend the rest of our lives together."

"I promise you; no one will work harder to make you happy or cherish you more than me. When I think about you, I know that no one else will ever hold my heart the way you do. When I think of the future, I like to picture us as two trees planted side-by-side, our roots growing together more firmly as the years go by, and our children sprouting like seedlings around us. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. When I met you, I knew I'd met my match. It was only a matter of time until we arrived at this moment. How it turns out is all in your hands, Amanda Scott Rollins. Will you marry me and make me the happiest man ever to live?"

Speechless for a second, I turn to look at both my kids, who are smiling. Kingston is grinning ear to ear. He's always respected and loved Sonny. Whispering, "Say yes, mama!" turning back to Sonny, I take his hands into mine.

"Sometimes you drive me crazy, Sonny. I feel as if you don't hear me or see me. We fight a lot over work, but there is no one else I would rather come home to than you. Sure, there are plenty of fish in the sea, but you are the only one for me. You are the shoulders I want to wrap my arms around, the lips I want to kiss. May God take me first, Sonny, because you have stolen my heart. Yes, I would be honored to become your wife!"

"See, I told you, Sonny! I knew she would say yes!" Kingston jumps up in happiness, fist-pounding Sonny, grabbing him and wrapping him in a tight hug. "Congratulations, dad!" Sonny blinks in shock at Kingston's words. "Is it okay if I call you dad? You've been more than a friend to me. I was three when I came to New York with mom. My dad wasn't in the picture much then, but you stepped up as soon as we met, taught me how to throw a baseball, and to hit a home run, you taught me how to tie my tie, stayed up late with me when I was sick and woke up in the middle of the night with me when I had a nightmare. Dad, you taught me how to be a man, apologize when I was wrong, and hold my head high with dignity and pride. You helped mama make dinner and manage life with two small kids. I may not have your smile or your D.N.A., but being a dad is more than a shared bloodline. It's there in the small moments as well as the big moments."

"I love my biological dad, and no one will ever replace him, but he has issues which he needs to figure out how to help himself with before he can ever be the dad I deserve. You stepped up when you didn't have to. I am not your son because of D.N.A., but because you took me into your heart, I love you, and I am so happy you finally asked mom to be your wife. You treat her with respect, grace, and see her for who she is as a woman of multi-layers. Thank You; dad, when you respect her, you respect me; she is my queen, my heart, my world."

Sonny's eyes fill with tears as he pulls Kingston into his arms. "I would be so happy to have you call me son. If it's something you truly want, nothing will make me prouder than being your dad." Staring at Sonny holding my son, I feel torn apart into so many emotions. A proposal is only the beginning; it's the beginning of our lives together; the beginning of our families coming together. It's the beginning of the process leading up to the eventual wedding.

"Eddie, I know we haven't been as close as Kingston and I have gotten over the years. I want you to know. However, I respect the young man you are becoming. Intelligent, funny, adaptive, and compassionate; diplomatic, adventurous, focused, and friendly. You may not be athletic the way Kingston and I are, but I love everything about you, Eddie; I wanted to show you how much you mean to me." Pulling out a box, Sonny hands it to Eddie, who looks at him shyly, both cheeks blushing deeply in a rose color. "You got me something, uncle Sonny?"

"Yes, I did. I know I am not your biological dad, and I would never try to take his place, but I want you to know I will always be here for you in whatever role you wish to have me. Kingston is comfortable enough to call me; dad; it doesn't mean you have to feel obligated to, Eddie. If uncle Sonny or Sonny is more comfortable for you, we can keep it staying this way. I will not be offended or hurt or ever feel angry. Your feelings are your right and your rights alone."

Opening the box, Eddie pulls out a beautiful Saint Michael medal. "St. Michael is the saint of police officers. Michael is the angel of protection. He is invoked in times of danger. Whenever we feel the spirit of evil playing around the edges of our world, we may call on the Archangel Michael to surround us with a shield of divine light to keep us safe from harm. My role may not be your father, Eddie, but I will always be here to protect you and your brother to guide you and respect you."

"Thank You, uncle Sonny. Thank You so much for not only the medal but for understanding my loyalty to my dad. I'm happy you and mama will be married. I don't agree with my brother often, but he's right. Mama is our queen, and she deserves the world. You make her happy, respect her, and have always been exceptional to us. You have my blessing to marry mama."

Looking at my two boys standing before me, I feel my emotions swell over. My boys are identical twins standing at 5'6, weighing one hundred thirty-five pounds; nearly as tall as I am at 5'7 with crewcut blond hair and icy cyan eyes; Kingston is athletic, a constant flirt who loves to showcase his nine-inch biceps and trim abs and hips. Athletics are in his bloodline. The boy's father, Sullivan Scott, was our high school quarterback, the star pitcher of our baseball team, forward to the boy's soccer team.

Kingston takes up lacrosse, rugby, basketball, baseball, football, soccer, wrestling, karate dance; he plays guitar and drums. My little King sings beautifully, and if there's a competition for it, he signs up to take lessons. Awards cover the walls of his room as trophies for every sport and competition he enters; he's never placed lower than the top ten. Kingston works hard and practices in every weather, early and late mornings. He's worked with instructors to build a fitness plan which includes eating right, excising.

Eddie has always been the quieter of the two boys. He's intelligent, funny, and creative. Eddie takes school seriously, always on the top of his class with the highest G.P.A.; Eddie never hesitates to take a stand or be the first to volunteer to lead his classmates; athletics are not Eddie's strong suits, but he is a beautiful dancer; he loves to act and challenge himself in the hardest of roles. The only athletic trait the boys share is singing; it's become a competition between the two of them competing for solo's in their school choir and their after-school vocal lessons, always going after the lead in the school's recital showcase.

My words break up, and all I can say are stuttering sounds. Hot tears stream down my face; I squeeze my eyelids shut in the hope my tears will stop. My choppy breathing and watery eyes remain for quite some time, and I stand there, unable to move. "Yes, Sonny. Yes. I can't wait to be your wife."

Gently, Sonny brushes my tears away, smiling as he leans in and kisses my cheek. "You may regret this when you have to plan the wedding." Laughing, Sonny holds me tighter. His breath, hot and minty, hit my cheek. "Oh, yeah, the planning. Uh! Speaking of planning, boys get ready for school. If we don't plan on leaving soon. We are going to be late, and being late with Olivia Benson as a captain is not an option."

"Get ready, Amanda. I will take care of the boys." Sipping my coffee, I grin towards Sonny, feeling increasingly lucky to have this remarkable man and these two amazing teenagers.

"Thank you, Fiancee." the word plays across my lips as I smile, turning over my shoulder heading to the bathroom. "Your welcome, Fiancee; damn, I like the sound of that word."

"So when are you two going to have a baby?" Sonny and I choke on our coffee at Kingston's question. He laughs, rushing down the hall. "I want a sister, not another yucky brother!" "Hey, it ain't so grand being your brother either, mister. I don't shower for weeks, I fart in class, and I cheat on tests cause I am too lazy to study."

"Jealous bro' cause I got the looks, the chicks, and the body. All you got is brains."

"Are brains, not is brains. Dumb-ass."

"I can see you being a girl's dad, uncle Sonny. I say yes to a sister too."

"A little girl, huh?" Instant sadness fills me, a void that has left me hallow for years at the thought of a little girl. Sonny and I look at each other in amazement, and neither of us is sure where this fifteen-year-old got the idea we were trying for a baby. Still, suddenly in my mind, I can picture Sonny with this little tiny dancing girl—taking her hand, spinning her in a bright pink tutu, giggling as they sing to Ariana Grande or Demi Lovato.

My boy is correct. Dominick Sonny Carisi is such a girl, dad; I absently rub my stomach, remembering the lovemaking from last night. We had been in such a hurry to be quick before the boys came home, so preoccupied with hurrying, we never thought of protection.

Could we have created a baby last night? Could Kingston, who has always had fantastic intuition, tell us something, or am I just stressed and tired? I am not sure all I know is I can't get the image or the song Tiny Dancer out of my head. What I wouldn't give to call my grandparents up right now and ask them for advice as they sit in their recliners rocking. One glance at the clock tells me time is ticking, and we need to go if we are to make it to school and work on time.

Life keeps moving even when we want it to freeze. Oh well, there's always tomorrow morning or next week. I make a mental note to ask my Nana her advice: am I moving too fast, or if there's even such a thing when you are a born and bred southern girl. When I close my eyes, I can hear her laughter mixed with her words sputtered between coughs from her cigarette smoke.

"Gal, don't mix wine with whiskey and don't put Jesus in a box."

"Don't burn a bridge that one day you will have to cross."

"Don't live with regrets; love ain't always roses, yeah, sometimes you get the thorns but buy a dozen every chance you get. Never spend more money than you can make and never depend on a man. Tell them, kids, mama don't make second dinners, you eat what I placed on your plate, or you go hungry."

"Southern girls are God's gift to the entire male population. There is no woman finer than one raised below the Mason-Dixon line, and once you go southern, may the good Lord help you never go back."

"We know southern Mamas for being subtle, like a freight train."

Most people would not know what my Nana would ramble about, but I smile because I know what she says. Whiskey is strong as hell, and it has its unique taste and stands perfectly fine on its own; authentic southern women can handle whiskey straight out of the bottle. We don't need sweet drinks to water our senses down. We're not delicate flowers; we are roses with thorns ready to draw blood.

Don't put Jesus in a box is simple. Never forget who created us, loves us, and carries us. Don't burn bridges with people in your life. Even if they scorn you, be the bigger person because one day you may have to cross that person in life's journey, and if you are the one with your head held high, you never have to lower your head in shame.

Love isn't always easy, but when the storms pass, there's beauty in the rainbow left behind. I was burned in the past, but now looking at Sonny and my sons, I can smile because I have the life I have always dreamed about, but I don't need to depend on him. I'm perfectly fine on my own; I make my own money; I have a successful career, and an apartment to keep my kids clothed, fed, and sheltered in, and a generation of lessons handed down from my grandparents and parents.

I don't need Sonny in my life, but I choose to have him. The difference in those two sentences will make my Nana smile because I have always been the Rollins girl who would change the world.

"Amanda?" Sonny comes into the bathroom as I am about to drop my robe. "Yes, babe?" His face no longer looks happy. My eyes drift down his body to see his posture is stiff. "I was looking for King's birth certificate. He forgot he needed it for some document at school today, and I came across this in the safe."

My eyes follow his body to his left hand, where I freeze upon seeing what he holds. My heart skips a beat; my throat becomes suddenly too wet; choking me; I can feel my heart increase in speed, flushing my checks in worry, shame, and anger. "Who is baby girl, Kari?" "Where did you get that, Sonny?" "I told you, Amanda. In the damn safe, I was looking for King's birth certificate. Why do you have someone else's baby certificate in your safe?"

My eyebrows scrunch as I feel the anger rising at Sonny's tone with me. Who the hell does he think he is to question me when he went into my safe and looked through my private documents. Pain ricochets through my face at the tightening of my jawline. My lips press firmly together. My eyes harden. I feel the creases tighten as I stare at Sonny in unexplained anger and fear. "Answer me, Amanda!"

"No, Sonny, I will not answer you. Not when you demand things from me after going through my private safe. I do not answer you or anyone else; I am my own person. I deserve respect, and this tone you are taking with me is far from respectful."

"Respect? You talk about respect, Amanda, when it looks like you've been lying to me throughout our entire relationship! Tell me, whose birth certificate is this? Why does it say June 28th, 1998? You were eighteen years old. Did you have a baby with someone else? Is the baby's Kim? She's always been loose; she would have been what sixteen maybe fifteen back then, or were you the slut?"

I stood there, fists clenched by my sides, shoulders rolled back, glaring at Sonny in shock. 'Care to say that again?' The room felt like it was closing in around me. In my mind, I was growing larger and larger, expanding with rage. If I didn't do something fast, I'd explode and take out everyone and everything around me to get myself under control. I need to think of ways to control myself the way my therapist was always bitching to me about triggers she called them. "Answer me, Amanda!" Soreness turns to throbbing as I lift my right hand and slap Sonny across his face hard. My right-hand stings almost burning as bright as his cheek when I raise my hand away, leaving both of us stunned.

"Never call Kim or me a slut again; you never refer to a woman as a slut; your Nona would be ashamed of your mouth, Dominick."

"Mama! Dad, stop fighting!" Kingston stands in the middle of the hallway, his body tense, cheeks flushed, eyes darting back and forth between the two of us, his protectors. "I can't believe you hit him! How could you be such a bitch?"

"Go to your room, Kingston, get ready for school. This is between Dominick and me, not you or your brother. You're grounded for calling me a bitch. I taught you about being disrespectful, like father like son, I guess."

"Bullshit. He's my dad, and you hit him all because he asked you a question. Hitting someone is wrong. You taught me this! I'm sorry I called you a bad name, but I lost control. Like mother like son, I guess."

"Your right, King it is, and I am sorry I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me. I lost control. I'm sorry, truly." Moving closer to Sonny, I whisper in anger, my teeth grinding. "You never have permission to call me any names, ever, and I am not sorry I hit you until you apologize. Stay out of my apartment."

"Get to school boys, now!" I slam the bathroom door leaning against it, my breathing staggered, burying my face in between my palms. I feel the heated sting on my right hand. "Ah!" I scream out, the scream echoing off the walls; the acoustics cause the sound of my scream to linger. I try to keep my tears at bay, sniffling and wiping at my swollen eyes, but my chest clenches in pain at my attempts. The date burns inside my head June 28th, 1998, making the lump inside my chest race up my throat, gagging me, choking me. One tear rolls down getting past my defenses the rest follow in an unbroken stream; until I can no longer hold the tears at bay once the first tear broke free. I bent forward on my knees on the floor, pressing my palms to the mat. I cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours.

I am surprised I feel so guilty. I never regretted my decision or anything like that, but the amount of guilt I felt and continued to feel shocks me. I think about that day every day and have since it passed, but over the years, I have learned to cope and live with the daily ache inside my heart, to keep the secret I have carried for twenty-three years. No one has ever guessed or even come close to knowing this confidential information. I have always been a master of keeping her close to my heart and protecting her from the outside world's judgments. Until today, Sonny found her birth certificate and tore this wound wide open inside my heart.

Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes. The tears keep falling as my strength weakens. Staggered, sharp breaths cause me to gasp and hiccup as I feel myself falling back into time, remembering that day, June 28th, 1998.