A/N: Started writing this while I was waiting for episode 13 and really struggling with the news and everything going on. And then episode 13 happened and I got a much needed distraction for a few hours, and inspiration to finish this little one shot.

Definitely did some projecting with this one, since Amanda's childhood share some similarities with mine and I've been deep in my feels lately. I hope that doesn't mess it up.

Both Sides Now

"No one loves you like I do, Mandy."

That's what he used to say.

"Don't you ever forget that."

And at the time, she chalked it up to actually have some kind of meaning. Something to tell her that she mattered, that she was important, that someone cared. Something to hold onto when things got bad, and when it didn't feel like love at all. Like when he pulled her in tight, and she could smell the cheap scotch on his breath. His embrace felt like she was being strangled, but at least it was better than the cold glares from her mother.

No one loves me like daddy.

For years, those words would somehow shield her when the house she grew up in was filled with raised voices and the sounds of shattered glass. When she desperately wanted to feel protected and safe, at least she could remind herself, over and over again, that he did love her. He just forgot sometimes.

"Don't you ever forget that."

He might've forgotten, but she never did. Because she was a daddy's girl after all. She got him, and he got her. At least that's how it felt in a world where no one else really did.

But as time went by and she got older, her father's words slowly turned into poison instead of comfort. A special kind of venom that gradually spread through her veins, and eventually crept into her heart, her mind. Convincing her that her father's version of love was all she was worth.

That she was good for some company when needed, but that she could so easily be thrown aside when they were done with her.

So the first time she wanted to tell Carisi that she loved him, she held her breath for a few seconds, opening her mouth to speak before the fear settled in her chest. And then, she kissed him instead. Because that was easier. It was easier to just show him. And if he turned her down? She could make a joke about drinking too much, or something like that. She could handle his rejection as long as she had a way out.

But if she actually said those three words, and he didn't say it back?

She couldn't handle that.

Because that would've made it all true. The twisted prophecy that her father had rooted in her since she was too young to understand what love really meant.

Her telling him, and him not saying it back, would've confirmed all of her darkest, deepest fears; That no one could really love her at all. Only in a strictly conditional way, when it served some kind of purpose. Like a business deal. If I tell you I love you, you can't hate me for drinking. You can't hate me for beating your mama. If I tell you I love you, then you owe me that much. As long as I love you, you belong to me.

And if Carisi didn't say it back, then who would?

So she kissed him, hoping and praying that he would kiss her back. If only for tonight, even though she wanted all of the tomorrows.

And then, everything was just so wonderfully blurry for a while.

Because suddenly there were subtle touches and longing stares and hidden smiles, and just the two of them. And she desperately wanted to stay in that tiny little bubble made of secrets, as much as she wanted to profess her love from the tallest skyscraper in New York City.

Of course, the latter didn't really feel like an option, because that bubble of secrets was just too comfortable, and less terrifying. So she kept waiting, hoping that all of her kisses, and all the other ways she showed him how she felt, would be enough. For now.

The second time she wanted to tell him, she spent fifteen minutes frozen in the doorway to her daughter's bedroom. Watching him sleep with Jesse and Billie curled up on either side, an open book splayed across his chest.

She wanted to crawl into bed with all three of them, wake him up gently and quietly, kiss him and confess her feelings against his lips.

But she stood there, frozen, instead. Wondering if she would ever be able to tell him, to really explain, to make him understand. Not just that she loved him, but how much he had changed her world the day he showed up at the precinct. How he had challenged her worldview every day since.

Oh, she wanted to. But with quiet steps she crossed the floor, carefully moved Billie to her own bed, removed the book from Carisi's chest before caressing his cheek.

"Babe?" She whispered, a nickname she seldom used, but it felt fitting in a soft moment like this.

"Hm?" He blinked his eyes open, clearly confused about his surroundings.

"You fell asleep in here." She smiled. "Let's go to bed."

And like that fateful night down by the Hudson, she kissed him instead of using her words. And when she closed the door to her bedroom a while later, her body did all the talking and she could only hope that her message was received. Even it wasn't expressed in the way she wanted.

At least that was safe and familiar territory.

"No one loves you like I do, Mandy."

Are you sure about that, daddy?

Because now that she actually felt cared for, when she had someone to make dinner for her and the girls, someone to rub her sore neck after hours of paperwork, someone to text her "you smell good today" after leaving his office, someone to wipe away her tears after a particularly rough case. Now, it didn't feel like being loved was a business deal anymore. Everything she gave in return, she gave freely and willingly, and more often than not, eagerly. Because Carisi just made it so damn easy.

And then gradually, every time she heard her father's voice, she fought a little harder. Argued against the logic she had been leaning on for most of her life, just to get by. The logic that told her that if you open up too much, they'll leave. They'll see you for who you really are, and leave. If you love too much, trust too much, you'll get hurt. You'll get burned and it'll all be for nothing.

She fought against the voices telling her to run, even when every living cell in her body was on high alert and Carisi looked at her a certain way and she was sure that this was it.

But it never was. And he never left.

And so, here she is, with her lips pressed against the crook of his neck, exhaling a trembling sigh when he lifts his head and looks at her.

"Are you crying?" He asks, eyes immediately colored with worry while stalling the movements his body was just making against hers.

"Only happy tears." Amanda says, smiling up at him. "I'm happy."

He shifts a little, moves his hand so he can drag his thumb over her cheek. "You sure?"

And then she feels it. That rush again, like when the roller coaster drops and you're in free fall for a moment. And that desperate, almost painful need to just tell him.

"No one loves you like I do, Mandy."

That's not true.

That wasn't love.

She's free now. Because something had shifted when she walked towards him a few hours prior, knowing that the world finally knows. Maybe she didn't yell it from a rooftop, but the bubble that she had been so determined to protect for nine months, was now popped open. And surprisingly enough, the only thing she felt was relief.

Gone was the worry that he would suddenly pack up and leave. That he would grab the toothbrush he kept in her bathroom, and the spare suite in her closet, and walk out of her and her daughter's lives.

And suddenly those three words that she's been holding back for so long, probably since way before their first kiss, tumble out of her without restraint or an ounce of doubt.

"I love you, Dominick."

"You-" He says, but he cuts himself off, and she suspects that it's because of a lump in his throat.

"Yes, you." She grins, nearly giggles, feeling a sense of euphoria now that she finally did it, now that she's finally free of those voices in the back of her mind, making her second guess every single thing. "I love you."

She realizes then that she has never seen this man cry before, except maybe a few angry tears welling up but never escaping. But she has never seen a single tear actually roll down and drop from his chin, and when it happens, she swears she has never seen a more beautiful man.

"Amanda." He whispers, closing his eyes before resting his forehead against hers. "I love you."

"Yeah?" She asks, shyly.

He nods, lifting his head again, his eyes glistening with those gorgeous tears that tells her everything she needs to know. "If you only knew how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

There's a hint of guilt then, because she knows he's been holding back too. Knows that if it was all up to him, they would've done this sooner. But in the midst of all the emotions she's feeling, happiness being the dominant one, she also finds some self-compassion. Knowing that she needed this time to heal, to learn how to trust. To understand that she was worth so much more than just the convenience of her company.

"If you only knew how long I've wanted to say it."

…

"Tears and fears and feeling proud,

to say, "I love you" right out loud.

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds,

I've looked at life that way…"

…