AN: Somebody messaged me and asked for more crazy Kim - I aim to please!
we all have wings / but some of us don't know why
Amanda woke up at five in the morning with the intense urge to vomit.
Flinging the covers off of their bed, she sprinted into the bathroom and closed the door a little louder than she had intended. Bare knees encountering cold, hard tile, she got sick into the toilet - three times in a row. In a moment of reprieve, Amanda shakily leaned against the wall, her stomach coiled in an uneasy knot as she pulled in a few steadying breaths. Looking down, her legs stood out as tan against the bright white marbled floor; they had only returned to New York from Florida a few days prior.
After a few minutes, she felt well enough to stand. Carefully getting to her feet, Amanda flushed the toilet and fumbled for her toothbrush. She opened the medicine cabinet for a fresh tube of toothpaste - Sonny had the infuriating habit of leaving an empty one rumpled on the counter instead of simply throwing it away and replacing it. She brushed her teeth, returned it to its ceramic holder when she was done, then went to shut the cabinet door again. She paused mid-way, tired eyes settling on the box of pregnancy tests that sat behind a bottle of NyQuil. There was one left inside - she had used the other one long before they had gone on vacation.
Amanda took inventory of how she was feeling in that moment: she was queasy, but her muscles didn't ache and her head didn't hurt. She pressed the back of hand to her forehead - her skin was cool to the touch. She could have had a strange virus - or maybe this was morning sickness. Her heart leapt at the latter option, even though by now, she knew better than to get her hopes up. Even so, Amanda couldn't resist pulling the remaining test from the box and taking it. Seconds after she flushed the toilet and capped the tip of the stick, there was a quiet knock at the door.
"'Manda? You okay?" came Sonny's voice from their bedroom. He only waited a beat before he creaked open the door. He was sleepy, disheveled; his brow furrowed when he looked at her. "You don't look so good," he observed huskily.
"Gee, thanks," Amanda mumbled with a roll of her eyes.
"You know what I mean," he grumbled. "What's the matter?"
"I threw up a few times." She swallowed thickly, trying to combat another wave of nausea. She pressed a palm to her sternum and used her other hand to point to the test sitting on the countertop by the sink.
"Ohhh, that kinda throwin' up?"
"I don't know, maybe."
Sonny sunk down on the edge of the tub.
"Don't get your hopes up. My period has been all jacked up since April, so it's hard to keep track. With my luck, Jesse gave me somethin' she caught from one of her germ-y little friends..." The speech was mostly for herself, not Sonny, like it would help her manage her expectations.
"My hopes aren't up," he insisted. "I didn't say anything."
Amanda went into the medicine cabinet again and shook out several Tums into her hand. She popped the chalky tablets into her mouth, chewed and swallowed them gingerly. She had a feeling they wouldn't last long in her stomach.
"Well... when can we look at it?" Sonny asked her timidly.
"It only takes three minutes." She inched closer to the sink and picked up the test, holding it between two sets of fingers. Looking down, she saw a set of bold, blue lines. Instead of immediate elation, she felt a jolt of dread. As badly as she wanted a baby, she was terrified of the possibility of another miscarriage and what it would mean for her, for Sonny, for their marriage. She had spent so many nights lying awake wondering if all of the ultrasounds and blood work she had endured - the ones that had assured her that she was 'normal' - had been incorrect. Sonny took them all at face value, inherently trusting of physicians and science, but now Amanda was too skittish to feel confident. As she blinked down at the test, tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Sonny got to his feet and quickly walked over to her. Frowning, he said gently, "ah, Amanda, it's alright. It's only been a couple of months, we'll keep-"
"No, no," she interrupted him hoarsely, shaking her head. "It says I'm pregnant."
"It does?" He sounded genuinely confused.
She met his gaze and nodded.
A slow grin spread across Sonny's face. "Why are you cryin'? Aren't you happy?" he asked with a chuckle, his own eyes bright with excitement.
"I am, it's just..." Amanda whispered. "I'm afraid. I don't wanna get too excited..."
His smile faltering, he soothed his hands up and down her sides slowly. "It's okay. You'll talk to the doctor and we'll go from there."
"I am glad, I am," she promised him, sensing his growing concern. She set the test back down on the counter. "I just don't think I'm gonna feel... totally okay about it until I'm actually holdin' a baby."
Sonny nodded, fingers toying with the soft fabric of her old t-shirt.
Amanda felt like she needed a hug - because she was happy, because she was scared - so she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He embraced her, steady, sturdy and warm.
"How have you been feeling?" Dr. Miller asked Amanda.
"I'm exhausted and I've been throwin' up pretty much all day, every day for a few weeks," she replied grimly from her spot sitting on the edge of the exam table.
"I'm going to put you on some nausea medication," the physician told her, scrawling out a prescrption. "We can't have you losing weight."
"But, the ultrasound and all that... is everything okay?" Amanda asked nervously.
"Heartbeat is perfect - 160 beats a minute," Dr. Miller said. He looked down at the report in his hands, "you're eight and a half weeks, so the size is right on, too, about 6.4 inches. No uterine abnormalities noted... everything looks normal."
She wished that was enough to ease her anxiety. "Yeah, but it did last time, too..."
"When you're eleven weeks or so, we'll do some screenings and a special ultrasound just to be sure nothing is happening in there that we have to worry about, both during your pregnancy or after the baby is born," the doctor explained. "I'm also going to have you come in more frequently. Every few weeks."
"That often?" Sonny asked curiously from Amanda's side.
"It's standard procedure for a high-risk pregnancy," Dr. Miller answered. He looked at Amanda pointedly. "Make sure to get enough rest, eat regular meals... try to limit your stress as much as possible."
Amanda and Sonny exchanged glances.
Sonny tapped diligently at his keyboard as he tried to finish two days worth of paperwork. Spring and summer were SVU's two busiest seasons, and since the squad was perpetually down-staffed, they rarely got enough of a break to complete all of their notes and documentation in one sitting. As much as he despised this part of police work, at least he had been raking in the overtime lately. When Amanda had tossed their credit card statement in front of him a couple of mornings ago, Sonny immediately felt himself morphing into his father: he followed his wife around for ten minutes, dramatically reading back all of her charges, looking for an explanation that would make paying it all off less painful. In typical Amanda-fashion, she had only grinned coyly and said, what's mine is yours, remember?
"Sonny, hi."
Looking up, Sonny was surprised to see Kim Rollins hovering over his desk, wearing her familiar pageant smile. He peered around the squad room for Amanda, but remembered that she was at a meeting with Liv. "Hey, Kim. What are you doin' here?"
"I was just... can I talk to you?" she asked, fiddling with the pens in the container by his laptop.
"Sure." He leaned back in his seat and looked at her expectantly.
"In private," Kim explained.
"Oh. Okay," he responded slowly. Getting to his feet, he motioned for her to follow him into the break room. He shut the door behind them both before perching himself on the edge of the table. "What's up?"
Kim rocked back and forth on her heels. "I need your help."
"With what?"
"I was wonderin' if maybe you were free later today."
"You askin' me out on a date?" he joked.
She grinned, but it faded quickly and her expression turned solemn. "No. I, um, need you to come to the parole office with me."
Sonny furrowed his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why?"
"Y'know how I'm in school?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, um, between workin' and studyin', I was havin' trouble staying awake the other day and..."
"And..."
She tucked her hair behind her ears and told him innocently, "I might've done a little cocaine..."
"Oh, God, Kim," he groaned, wincing at her confession. He hadn't been prepared for this.
"I can't tell Amanda, she's gonna kill me," Kim went on hastily. "You know how she gets-"
"Yeah, for a reason!" he exclaimed.
"Okay, okay, that's fair," she replied diplomatically.
"What exactly do you think I can do for you, Kim?" he demanded. "You know usin' drugs violates your parole."
"Well, you went to college with Mark, didn't you? Couldn't you just... come with me and explain how good I've been doin'?" she suggested sweetly.
"You haven't been doin' well - you've been doin' coke," he challenged her.
"Just one time!" Kim blurted. "It was a mistake and I'm not gonna do it again. I just... I can't go back to jail, Sonny. I've got a job, and my apartment, and I'm doin' real good in school and..." Her lower lip puffed out in a pout as she added quietly, "Amanda's gonna lose her mind if I get sent back. She's gonna get all stressed out, and she's pregnant again..."
Sonny's heart clenched in his chest. He could already picture Amanda's reaction to her sister violating the terms of her parole; she would be so disappointed. Amanda cared for Kim fiercely and unconditionally - almost as if her younger sibling hadn't once attempted to entangle her in a deadly insurance fraud scheme that could have cost her her freedom. Or like Kim hadn't been a prostitute, a hustler, an attempted-murderer... none of it seemed to matter, because Amanda stuck by her through every scheme and scam. Sonny knew it was because she was desperate to keep their familial connection, the one she had protected since they were both little kids - not because Amanda was naive. She knew that Kim could be manipulative and cruel, she just loved her anyway.
Photographs of the sisters together still sat on the mantle above their fireplace, Amanda edited Kim's college essays and took her shopping, and Jesse often begged to hang out with her cool aunt. The longer Kim stayed on the right the path, the more relaxed Amanda was. It would break her heart to know that her sister had returned to her old behaviors - all of the worry and fear she used to harbor about Kim's fate would undoubtedly return. Try to limit your stress as much as possible, the physician had told her. Dr. Miller clearly wasn't acquainted with Kim Rollins.
"What time is your appointment?" Sonny sighed.
Kim grinned. "Six-thirty."
The office of Probation and Parole was a dingy, decrepit building on Broadway. Sonny never had to go there. Being a detective meant his relationship with criminals ended after the arrest - unless, of course, one's sister-in-law happened to be a felon. Kim's parole officer, Mark Bailey, was a college classmate of his. Bailey was a big, burly guy who could be goofy and fun-loving if he liked you well enough. That wasn't to say he was soft: after seven years of working in Parole, he had the reputation of being firm and by-the-book. Sonny never heard Kim complain about him, which made him wonder if she had successfully charmed Bailey into going a little easier on her than he did others.
Leaving Kim in the waiting room, Sonny flashed his badge to the receptionist who let him into the office with a wordless smile. He found Bailey's door open, the man himself reading a file with his feet propped up on his desk. When he looked up, he grinned widely.
"Carisi, what's up? How are ya?" Bailey greeted him enthusiastically, getting up suddenly to shake Sonny's hand.
"Hey." He walked over to his desk and grasped Bailey's hand. "I'm good, I'm good."
"What are you doin' here?" Bailey asked him curiously. "You give Kim a ride?"
"Not exactly." Sonny rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. "I wanted to talk to you about her."
Bailey sunk back down into his desk chair. "Okay... what's goin' on?"
"Kim's been doin' pretty well, right?"
"Yeah. She hasn't caused me any problems."
"She's in college, takin' classes, and workin' at the diner full-time..."
"I know. I'm impressed at how she's turned things around over the past couple of years."
"She made, uh, a little mistake," Sonny concluded awkwardly. "So I'm wonderin' if maybe we could... overlook it."
Bailey's expression turned serious. "What kinda mistake are we talkin' about here, Carisi?"
"She told me today that she did some coke the other day, to stay awake," he explained. He felt ridiculous saying it out loud. "Now, I know that's an obvious violation of her parole but I think given how well she's been doin'-"
"You a parole officer now?" the other man interrupted, tone sarcastic.
"No, no, not even close," he remarked sheepishly. "I just, she's my sister-in-law, y'know? I care about her and I think she deserves a second chance."
"Parole is her second chance, Carisi. The court sets the terms, not me," Bailey reminded him.
"But you get to decide whether or not to violate her," he shot back, getting nervous.
Bailey stared at him. "Rollins' sister know about this?"
"No, and I'd like to keep it that way," he admitted, voice low.
He sighed. "Just cocaine?"
"Just cocaine. Nothin' else," Sonny promised him eagerly.
"Fine, I'll let it go this one time, but she's goin' back to mandated AA and NA meetings. If she shows up here without that attendance list signed off on, I'm violating her," Bailey said sternly. "Understood?"
Amanda's intention had only been to lie down for a few minutes. Amid piles of laundry strewn across the mattress, she had wanted to fold it after both kids went to sleep. After assembling the tenth pair of tiny socks, her eyelids grew heavy and she couldn't resist the urge to curl up on her side. Between work, throwing up and taking care of Jesse and Luca, the day had been long and her body was begging for a reprieve. Everything went warm and fuzzy as she lost interest in the clothes and surrendered to her exhaustion.
She woke up slowly when the bedroom door creaked open. Perfectly comfortable exactly where she was, Amanda didn't move, but she blinked open her eyes to see Sonny. She didn't know what time it was, but he was still in the suit he had been wearing all day.
"Where've you been?" she mumbled curiously.
He pulled of his jacket and loosened his tie. "Oh, uh, paperwork."
"I thought you finished and were goin' to play basketball?" Amanda yawned.
"Yeah, I got distracted." Sonny sat on the edge of the bed and angled his body so he could look at her. "How ya feelin'?"
"Tired. My boobs hurt," she murmured.
"Want a massage?" he offered with a smirk.
"Get away from me," Amanda grumbled, giving his thigh a swat.
"Worth a try," he sighed.
Amanda studied Sonny's profile curiously; he looked worried. "Whatsa matter?"
"Huh?"
"You look like something's on your mind."
"Nah, I'm just tired."
"Promise?" she pressed.
He smiled and reached out to squeeze her hip. "Yeah, I promise."
Two weeks later, Sonny's phone vibrated atop his desk. Without looking at the caller ID, he answered it. "Carisi."
"Hey, it's Bailey," a familiar voice responded.
"Hey, what's up?" he replied distractedly, trying to multi-task as he read his e-mail off of his laptop. He assumed that Bailey was going to ask him for a favor, because that's how the culture of NYPD operated - you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Bailey had helped Sonny with Kim and now he probably needed a parking ticket dismissed.
"Where the hell is Kim?" Bailey demanded. "She missed her check-in with me this morning."
That got all of Sonny's attention; he sat up straighter. "She probably just forgot."
"Yeah, well, I already cut her some slack once and my chief isn't gonna like this." Bailey's tone was curt. "I want her down here by seven tonight or else I'm issuing a warrant."
"Don't worry, I'll find her," he murmured quietly, stealing a furtive glance around the squad room to make sure nobody looked too interested in his conversation. His eyes flickered over to Amanda, who was scribbling something in a notebook at her desk. "I'll call you once I do." After hanging up, Sonny abruptly got this feet and announced, "I gotta run to Barba's office."
Amanda turned to look at him, her blue eyes piercing. "Why?"
"I, uh, left some stuff there," he fibbed. He knew he didn't sound convincing; he was an awful liar. It was one of the many reasons why he never told anything but the truth. "I'll be back in an hour."
"But-"
Sonny hurried away from his desk, pretending not to hear her. Too anxious to wait for the elevator, he pounded down the stairs.
Fifteen minutes later, Sonny banged on the door of Kim's TriBeCa apartment. Since her father began paying her rent, she lived better than he and Amanda did. "Kim! C'mon, open up," Sonny hollered.
"It's open!" came Kim's voice from the other side.
Letting himself inside, his eyes widened at what he found: Kim was draped across her couch, cigarette in one hand and glass of amber liquid in the other. Atop her messy coffee table sat a glossy magazine with a neat line of cocaine down the center, a credit card covered in residue by its side. From what Sonny could see, the rest of her one-bedroom apartment was in total disarray, too, with clothes strewn everywhere and dishes on every available surface.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Kim. What are you doin'?" Sonny exclaimed, horrified.
"What?!" She struggled to sit up. Her eyes were glassy. "It's my day off!"
"You told me you weren't doin' this stuff!" he shouted. He couldn't believe how intensely betrayed he felt by such a discovery.
"Oh, c'mon, loosen up, Sonny!" Kim snorted. "You're just like my sister."
"What, you mean, a law-abiding citizen?" he replied sarcastically. He snatched the magazine off of the coffee table and stalked into the adjoining kitchen.
"Hey, gimme that!" she demanded.
He ignored her and dumped the powder down the drain of the sink, turning on the faucet immediately after. "I should arrest you, you know that?" he told her angrily, ripping off the cover of the magazine and tearing it into little pieces, just in case she tried to salvage any last bit of the drug.
"You'd never arrest me," Kim simpered.
Jamming the remnants of the magazine cover into the trash, he walked back into the living room. "You missed your check-in with Mark this morning. He's pissed off."
She shrugged her slim shoulders and took a drag of her cigarette. "Oops."
"Yeah, 'oops' is right," he scoffed. "He wants you in the office by seven tonight." He shook his head, exasperated. "I don't know how you're gonna pass a tox screen like this."
"I'll drink a lotta water," she replied simply.
Sonny rolled his eyes. "That doesn't work."
"Can you talk to him again? Please?" Kim pleaded, then added with a giggle, "tell him I'm real sick."
"I'm not lyin' for you, Kim," he said firmly.
"Fine. I'll lie myself. I think he's got a little crush on me, he'll believe anything I say," she told him haughtily.
"How long has this been going on?"
"A couple months."
"Months?" Sonny sputtered. "How have you been gettin' this past Bailey?"
"I have my ways," Kim smirked.
"Does your boyfriend know about all this?"
"Connor and I aren't together anymore."
"Why not?"
"None of your business," she snapped, then she pressed her lips together. Her blue-green eyes became doe-like as she asked meekly, "you're not gonna tell 'Manda about this, are you?"
Sonny roughly rubbed his palms over his face, his stomach twisting with internal conflict. "Kim..."
"I'll call Mark and tell him I've had the flu. I've gone to all my meetings, he won't think twice," she insisted. "There's no reason Amanda has to know, it's not like she's my guardian or somethin' even though I know she thinks she is."
"Amanda has done a lot for you, Kim," he reminded her through gritted teeth, suddenly annoyed that she would be so cavalier about her sister's role in her life.
She waved her cigarette around dismissively. "Because she doesn't know who she is unless she's savin' somebody," Kim told him crassly. "Where's that gotten her, huh? All she does is worry. I make my own choices, and knowin' how my sister gets, right now I'm just tryin' to spare her a little more stress."
He felt torn between sparing Amanda and being honest. In a way, Kim was right: Amanda had always worried about everything, but only a few months into a high-risk pregnancy, now the consequences of her anxiety could be higher. "I won't tell her, but don't ask me for anymore favors," Sonny decided angrily. "I'm not gonna be complicit in all this."
Kim gave him a wolfish grin. "You already are."
