A/N: I've been trying to find a way to process episode 3, and I guess this is the result? Idk. It's very, very dark. Like, possibly one of the darkest stories I've written when it comes to mental health issues. I only read through it once, so there's a good chance it's filled with mistakes.

A/N 2: I know I posted this as a one shot a few weeks ago and that some of you might've read this already. But then I started working on a follow up and I realized this story actually belongs here, in Chosen Family. So posting this as a new chapter and then I'm hoping to post part 2 today or tomorrow.

STRONG TW for suicidal thoughts/PTSD/nightmares/sexual assault. I'm sorry :(

Danger Will Follow Me – Part 1

After twenty minutes of just standing there, he tugs at her hand.

The touch is gentle, almost subtle, but she knows what he's trying to tell her; Something about the girls being ok, something about it not being her fault, something about going to bed. She hugs his hand in return, but she doesn't look at him. Mostly because she knows that if he sees the tears, he's gonna turn it into a whole thing; The usual comfort, the kisses, the warm embrace, wiping the tears away, and so on.

And it's not that she doesn't want it, or need it.

It's that she doesn't deserve it.

So she stands her ground instead, her tired body leaning against the doorway as she watches her girls sleep.

"I'm going to bed." He whispers, kissing the top of her head, and she nods. Can't speak, because the lump in her throat takes up too much space. And only when he walks past her and leaves her alone, does she let out a trembling breath, closing her eyes as the tears she was terrified that he would notice, finally rolls down her face.

It doesn't matter that she spent two hours curled up in bed with her daughters, apologizing for scaring them, and calming them down.

It doesn't matter that Billie was mostly relieved because the "monster" in the closet was finally gone, or that Jesse snuggled up next to her and said "it's ok, mommy, you were just protecting us."

It should matter.

It just doesn't.

Had this been a normal night, if she was standing here for a different reason, she would've reached for her phone and sent the text that she has sent, and received, so many times before. The simple, late at night, "you up?"

She's not exactly sure when it started, or who started it. But the short exchanges with Liv when she can't seem to pull herself away from the girls' doorway, when being a mom is the most overwhelming thing in the world, has been a necessary lifeline for years now.

Because Liv gets it. As a mom, she just gets it. And she makes it easy, or, easier at least, with her usual blunt replies. Reminding her that as long as her kids are asleep, both of them warm and fed under the covers, she doesn't have anything to worry about.

It's just that… right now?

Right now she does have something to worry about.

Like freaking out over a fucking toy, and pulling a loaded gun in front of her children.

Of all the things she's been scared of after learning she was pregnant with Jesse, this was definitely not in her future mom cards. No, she was busy worrying about all the other stuff; That she was going to mess it up, that she wouldn't be available enough, that she wouldn't notice it if something, or someone, was bothering her kids.

Oh, and turning into either of her parents. She has worried about that too, of course. A lot.

So no, she didn't see this coming. Jesse screaming, Billie crying, and once again, Carisi being the only one left to pick up the pieces and clean up her mess, because she isn't capable.

Yeah, ok, she did eventually calm down enough so she could talk to them. She was the one who tucked them back in, who stayed with them until they were both sound asleep, the room quiet and seemingly monster free.

But he's the reason why she managed to calm down in the first place, and even though the girls (and the grown-ups) are still getting used to calling him dad, he is, without a doubt, the parent of the household right now.

And that's why she won't, can't, send that text tonight.

Because how is she supposed to explain this?

Doing the next best thing, she slides down against the doorway, ignoring the dull ache in her stomach as she pulls her phone out, only to scroll up to texts sent back and forth between her and the captain, before all of this. Finding some comfort in the simple reminder that there was a life before, fresh tears welling up when she reads a few lines sent back in January.

"Told the girls about me and Carisi tonight. Jesse claims she already knew."

"She did. Last time she was here she told me she saw you two kissing before Christmas."

"Oh, ok, so everyone knew?"

"You're a terrible liar, maybe the worst I've ever known. I'm still very happy for you. All four of you."

Clutching the phone close to her chest, she leans her head back, trying to muster up the energy needed to move herself from this doorway to her bed.

…

When he eventually starts to stir the next morning, she's been asleep for three hours, awake for nearly two. And she tells herself that three hours is better than nothing. At least it's better than the drug induced sleep in the hospital. And the short naps she survived on after coming home, constantly interrupted by pain, or nightmares.

She needs to tell herself this, because that makes it easier to lie to her therapist, tell her that she's sleeping "better".

No sleep equals no job, so no one needs to know that three restless hours is considered a win for her right now.

"Hey-" He says, and on a normal day, in a normal life, she would've found his morning rasp ridiculously sexy, probably leading to her moving on top of him, kissing him fully awake.

He would've mumbled something about not waking the kids, and she would've made a halfhearted promise about keeping it down.

But it's been a long time since they started their days like that. Normalcy nowhere in sight.

"Hey." She mumbles back, giving him one more minute to actually wake up, to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Ideally, she would've given him all the time in the world, but she's impatient, so after a minute the words that she's been pondering since last night, spill out.

"I know you have a busy day, but could you maybe do me a favor?"

He turns on his side then, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Sure?"

"Could you maybe drive the girls up to my mom?" She asks, grabbing his outstretched hand only to fold it in hers and place a kiss against his knuckles.

Looking slightly confused, he moves a little closer. "You want them to stay with your parents?"

"I just think it would be good for them, you know-" She shrugs, forcing a casual tone in her voice. "To get out of the city for a few days."

Last night there might have been a monster in her daughters' closet, but now there's an elephant in her bedroom, right here between them. Because he knows, and she knows, that what she's actually trying to say is that it would be good for the girls to get away from her. Not Manhattan.

But he doesn't press, and she doesn't elaborate. Waiting instead, for him to answer.

"I can take them." He finally says, adding a barely noticeable nod. "I can drive them up now after breakfast. You don't wanna come with?"

"I have therapy." She mumbles in response, not specifying when, just letting him know that she's not up for any interactions with her parents today, on top of everything else.

And much to her relief, he lets it go, kissing her forehead before moving out of bed.

…

"Why aren't you coming with us, mommy?" Billie asks, pouting her lips as Amanda pulls up the zipper of her coat.

But before she can answer, Carisi cuts in. "We talked about it this morning, remember? Mommy's working."

He's a good liar, she'll give him that. And it surprises her a little, guilty catholic and all, making her wonder if he has ever lied to her, reminding her that right now, she's the one lying to him.

"Be good girls." She says, kissing Billie's cheek before moving over to give Jesse the same attention. "I'll see you in two days, ok?"

"I'll miss you." Her oldest daughter says then, and it takes everything she's got not to break down right then and there, closing her eyes as she leans in for a second kiss, followed by a tight hug.

"I'll miss you too, baby." She whispers. "So much."

The goodbye kiss she gives Carisi a minute later is light, like this is just a normal morning where he's taking the girls to daycare and school instead of her. And for the briefest moment, as she watches her family leave the apartment, she allows herself to pretend. Pretend that everything is fine, that she is fine. Pretend that this plan doesn't have a hidden agenda.

Ok, plan might be a stretch.

But there's a reason why she needed everyone out of the house. And now she only has one more base to cover.

"Rollins?" Comes the quick response from Olivia. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She mumbles into the phone, the text about her being a terrible liar fresh in her memory. "But I'll be running a little late. Therapy."

"Ok-" Olivia says, dragging the word out a little, enough for Amanda to catch the suspicion.

"I completely forgot, sorry." She adds. "I'll stay late."

"No-" The captain interrupts. "No, don't worry about that. Do you need a day off?"

"I'm fine. I'll see you in a few hours." And with that, she hangs up, not giving the other woman a chance to follow up with a comment or another question.

…

When she finally sinks down on the bed a moment later, it feels like coming home after a ten hour shift. Her legs tired as if she's been chasing perps all day, her neck sore as if she's been hunched over her desk with paperwork.

But there's also relief. Most of all relief. Because for the first time since she can remember, Amanda is finally alone.

Convincing Carisi, or anyone really, that she could manage on her own when she was released from the hospital, was a fight she lost almost immediately. So, he had worked from home for nearly three weeks. Time in court suddenly swapped with soup making, helping the girls with their homework, morning walks with Frannie. And when he could no longer be there 24/7, her mom had stepped in.

It was an arrangement everyone hated, Amanda more than anyone else, but probably part of the reason why she was back on the job long before anyone thought she was actually ready.

And even in between, when Carisi wasn't there, when her mom wasn't there, when her girls weren't there, there was Liv, and Fin, and even Velasco that one time when he came over with donuts, the one thing she doesn't eat anymore. There had been surprise visits from Kat and Celine, and of course Carisi's parents, bringing so many casseroles that for three weeks, her fridge didn't have room for anything else.

Having no idea what she ever did to deserve any of them or the love they've showered her with, she feels a sense of deep shame as she curls up on her side, relieved that for once, there's no one around.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate it, because god, does she love them too; Her beautiful village of people.

It's just that, well-

She can't breathe.

It's like there hasn't been air in her lungs since that bullet pierced her body.

And it makes her want to scream.

She wanted to scream there on the ground, but she could barely manage a gasp, a pleading cry. She wanted to scream when she woke up in the hospital, but Carisi was there, looking so cried out that she couldn't do anything except whisper a silent "I love you".

She wanted to scream when she returned back home and realized how different everything was; How Jesse had this constant look of worry on her face, and how Frannie couldn't seem to find her place in the apartment anymore. She wanted to scream the first time Carisi helped her in the shower, and when he asked her for the millionth time that day if she was ok, if she was in any pain.

And she wanted to scream when Liv told her to go home, unknowingly reminding her that she isn't even half the detective she used to be.

It rumbles up from her chest before she has time to stop it, making her reach out to grab Carisi's pillow, holding it tight against her face as she finally lets it out; A loud and piercing cry, muffled but definitely not silenced. The ache in her stomach sharpens, but she lets it, doesn't do anything to stop it as she screams again, and again, and again.

It's a scream weeks in the making, and as she lies there, curled up in the fetal position, she realizes that it's not weeks at all.

It's years.

She screams because of her parents, and all the times she wanted to yell at them, beg them to stop, but didn't because she didn't want to scare Kim. She screams for eight year old Amanda who just wanted a normal family, to know how it felt to be loved. Eight year old Amanda who just didn't want to be scared all the time.

She screams because of what happened in that worn down motel room in Atlanta. As if she can still feel him on top of her, inside of her. As if she can still feel the pain he caused her when he made her bleed. She screams, like she's begging him to stop all over again, even though he's nowhere around, and she is all alone in this bed, on this morning.

At some point, the screams turn into weakened sobs instead, interrupted only by the occasional cough and sniffle, her body exhausted and weary as she gradually slips into sleep that she only fights for a moment before she surrenders.

She knows it's a dream when her body hits the ground. Knows that this isn't actually happening right now. But it doesn't really help, knowing that, because the pain that starts in her stomach before it spreads through her system, like fire, feels very much real.

And even though she knows what happens next, she still flinches and cries out when that stranger appears, pointing his gun at her face.

"No, no, no, please-" She begs, squirming against the ground while waiting for the final blow.

"Amanda, you know I don't take no for an answer."

Patton?

Suddenly, the pain in her stomach is gone, and she squints up at this man she thought she didn't know. But the sun gets in her eyes then, and as hard as she tries, she can't make sense of what's going on, or where she is.

"You walked into this." He says, and she flinches again when he bends down, moving both himself and the gun closer.

Patton.

"Please-" She whimpers, closing her eyes and forcing tears to spill as he presses the gun to her forehead. "Please don't."

"You should've thought about your girls." A new voice says, and it makes her eyes fly open because this voice isn't new at all, it's so heartbreakingly familiar, so comforting and real that it makes her wonder if this nightmare is finally over.

"There you are." Carisi smiles.

And then-

He pulls the trigger.

A loud, almost thundering "NO!" echoes through the room, forcing her up in a sitting position before she's even fully awake. And as sweat trickles down her neck, she sobs into her hands, gasping for air as her body, and her mind, lingers somewhere between the dream and reality.

She's only pulled back to complete consciousness when her stomach turns, forcing her to roll out of bed and jog towards the bathroom with one hand covering her mouth, barely reaching the toilet before the contents of her stomach spills out of her.

There really isn't much to get rid of, and after a few gags, there's only bile and saliva left, making her heave and wince while her hands cling to the white porcelain, knuckles white as her stomach contracts.

"Fuck-" She whispers, spitting one last time before using a hand to wipe at her running nose, leaning back on her heels until she can't hold herself up anymore and she sinks down on the floor.

She loses track of time then, unsure if it takes three minutes or three hours until she's able to lift herself up and move towards the sink.

And there, after rinsing her mouth repeatedly, she looks at herself in the mirror, feeling like she's looking at herself for the first time since, well, since she almost died.

"Are you crazy?" She hears, Olivia's voice so clear that it almost sounds like she's in the room with her.

She blinks, takes in her sunken eyes, and the new lines that have appeared around them. And her hair, unkempt and messy from sleep. It hits her then, that she can't remember the last time she smiled. The last time she smiled without forcing it.

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe."

She wonders, briefly, if this is what she looked like the night before, when she stormed the girls' bedroom, gun held high. If this is what they saw. If this is what they've seen every day since their first visit in the hospital.

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe."

Her mind goes blank as she moves, a strange numbness taking over as she exits the bathroom and walks down the hall.

It's like that dull ache in her stomach, the one that her doctor had explained would fade away within 2-3 months, has been replaced with a dull sadness instead, numbing her both physically and emotionally.

There's a solution here, she realizes, and it seems… Well, it seems fairly simple.

But more than that it feels necessary.

Because all these people, her people, the ones who have been showing up and showing her love, don't they deserve better?

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe."

Sure, they would be sad, for a little while, but life would go on, wouldn't it? Even for them? Her daughters, taken care of by someone who doesn't scare them, only to send them away the day after. Carisi, probably heartbroken for a while, but… Would he, deep down, also feel a sense of relief? Liv? She would cry, yes, but she's tough. She knows how grief works. You get passed it, right?

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe."

Her hand is already wrapped around the gun when a sudden sound makes her jump. Unrecognizable at first, she freezes there in her living room, until she registers that the sound is coming from her phone, now vibrating against the kitchen counter.

She looks over at the phone before eyeing the gun, wondering how she even ended up here, letting it go as if it just caught on fire, sucking in air when realization hits.

"Are you crazy?"

Definitely.

The phone stills then, as does she, and for a moment the only thing she hears is the rush of blood in her own ears, a steady pulse that reminds her where she is.

With trembling limbs, she moves towards the counter, picking up the device to see a missed call from Olivia, only then realizing that she has no idea how long it's been since their conversation earlier in the morning.

When she sees that only two hours have passed, she inhales slowly through her nose before pushing the redial button.

"You called?" She says, unable to hide the shake in her voice, not really sure how she even has one after what just transpired in her apartment.

"You didn't go to therapy, did you?" Olivia responds.

She chews on her lip as she considers her answer, quickly accepting that she's simply too exhausted to lie. "No." She admits. "I didn't."

"Look, Amanda-" The other woman sighs. "If you need some more time off-"

"Liv-" She interrupts, doing what she can to steady her voice. "I'm ok. It was just…" She trails off as her eyes move towards the small safe that now hides her gun, tears threatening to spill yet again. "A rough morning."

There's a silence then, like Olivia is hoping for her to continue, to let her know what a rough morning means.

"Ok." The captain finally mumbles, when no explanation comes. "See you soon."

"Thank you." Amanda adds, wiping away that single tear that just escaped, rushing the words out before Olivia has the chance to hang up. "For calling, and checking in."

"I'm here, you know."

Exhaling slowly, she nods, wondering if there will ever come a time when she'll be able to tell her captain, her friend, how this single phone call might've saved her life.

"I know."

…

"I don't wanna be alone right now." She tells Carisi the day after, and she can see that it pains him, can feel that it pains both of them, how different everything is now. How very far from normal everything is.

What he doesn't know, and what she can't get herself to tell him, or anyone else, is that it's not that she doesn't want to be alone.

No, it's not that Amanda doesn't want to be alone right now.

It's that she can't.

…