One moment she's facing a boy with a handgun and the next she's dropping to her knees as Carisi moans on the floor before her. The idiot took a freaking bullet for her. For a minute she is filled with indignant fury at the masochistic chivalry intrinsic in that action, but as she watches him pull off the vest and sees the already purpling impact upon his lower ribs she's rocked by a totally different sensation. He brushes it off as nothing, pulling his shirt back down quickly with an almost unnoticed glance to her stomach. As Finn hauls the perp away he shouts out a "might be time to consider that desk duty, Rollins, before Carisi does himself more harm trying to save yo ass".
Her finger's pressed the stop button before she's fully thought it through and Carisi turns to her with an upturned brow. It's been a long day and between the work and the hormones she's a little more emotional than usual. Or at least that's what she tells herself as she crosses the elevator and reaches up, arms wrapping tightly around the stunned man. She's careful to avoid his ribs but he winces all the same as he slowly brings his hands up to her back. She mumbles a rough "Thank you, Sonny" into his ear and feels the quick quirk of his lip before he rustles out a forcibly flippant "Any time".
She feels the tiny flutter of a heartbeat against her fingers, a heartbeat that could all too easily have failed today beneath the force of a bullet. And she imagines the family this child will be born into – a family that's rough and mismatched but that will always throw themselves in front of danger to protect each other. She imagines Christmases with loud Staten Island accents and slurred Spanish nursery rhymes, and suddenly the fear in the pit of her stomach curls into excitement. She won't be alone, they won't be alone.