AN: I don't watch football. So, here's an update.
I will carry your share for us / no matter how bad the storm
Amanda woke up suddenly at one thirty in the morning.
Buried beneath the sheets, she was curled up on her side in bed. Moments earlier, she had been sound asleep, but an unconscious thought of Sonny jolted her awake. She rolled over quickly; the space beside her was empty. She scrambled into a seated position and grabbed her phone off of her bedside table. A message sent from Sonny at eleven thirty read on my way home. Amanda could hear the distant sound of the television playing downstairs, prompting her to crawl out of the confines of their bed to pad out into the hallway. Dressed only in an oversized NYPD t-shirt, she made her way to the first floor. The living room was dim except for the glow of the television. Sonny was on the couch, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened, his feet resting on the coffee table next to his badge and gun. A glass of whiskey dangled from one hand as he stared at the screen, seemingly hypnotized.
"Sonny, you should have woken me up," Amanda said quietly, scurrying over to his side. "I tried to stay up. I didn't hear you come home."
He flinched in surprise, startled by her voice, then visibly relaxed at the sight of her. "I didn't wanna wake you. I figured you were tired."
She sunk down close to him on the couch and asked anxiously, "how was... everything?"
"Exactly as terrible as you'd expect," he replied before taking a sip of his drink. He kept his eyes straight ahead. "We didn't get outta there till ten dealin' with all the aftermath, tryin' to figure out who belonged to who, trackin' down parents and tellin' them... the coroner and the medical examiner are still there, they were finally movin' the bodies when I left."
"Any idea about the guy who did it?"
"Some nobody. No sheet, gun was legal. No one at the school recognized him. Looks like he was just some crazy person lookin' for a sick kinda notoriety before he killed himself."
Gaze downcast, she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. "How many...?"
Sonny exhaled. "Seventeen kids from two first-grade classrooms. Five adults."
Swallowing hard, Amanda lifted her eyes to study Sonny's stoic profile. "D'you wanna... talk about it?"
He shook his head. "No."
She bit her tongue to resist begging him to speak. He wasn't ready, but selfishly, Amanda wanted to hear his voice to relieve some of the heaviness in the pit of her own stomach. She hadn't been a part of it all, but it was hard to remain unaffected when a tragedy hit so close to home, both literally and figuratively. After a moment of quiet, she set a hand on Sonny's thigh and squeezed gently. "Why don't you come up to bed? It's late."
"I think I'm gonna watch TV for awhile," Sonny responded.
"Okay..." Lifting her hand from his leg, Amanda reached over and cupped his cheek with her palm. She placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Love you."
"Love you, too," he told her before she disappeared upstairs to return to bed alone.
The week went by painfully slow. The PS 77 tragedy cast a particular pallor over NYPD - specifically the 16th precinct. It had been awhile since they had been involved in an event of such a terrible magnitude. The perpetrator was dead by his own gun, but then came the process of talking to collateral contacts in an effort to figure out why. Then there was the inevitable internal investigation: One PP immediately began to dissect the events of the day to analyze the details of the police's response from the moment the 9-1-1 call was received. The public would want to know if protocol was followed, if they could do better next time, and if law enforcement had any new ideas about preventing all-too-frequent school shootings.
All Amanda cared about was Sonny. Usually full of energy and enthusiasm, lately he was withdrawn and quiet. At night she could feel him tossing and turning in bed beside her, then hear his heavy footsteps as he left their room to watch television in the living room instead. When they spoke, the typical lightness and affection was absent, because Sonny always seemed distracted. His patience was minimal and he got agitated easily, which was totally uncharacteristic of the man who usually tolerated just about everything with a smile and a clever remark. Amanda spent the week treading lightly, trying her best to be patient and understanding, but as days went by it became more and more difficult for her to remain silent. She had endured her fair share of work-related stress, she knew how discombobulating it could be, but now she was on the receiving end and didn't quite know what to do with it. It was hard not to take it personally, the way Sonny dismissed and seemingly looked right through her. It left her feeling perpetually unsettled.
"Are we gonna see the dinosaurs tomorrow?" Jesse asked Sonny, hopping around in front of the television on Saturday night.
Amanda's eyes flickered up from her laptop, where she worked at the island in the adjoining kitchen.
From his spot on the couch, Sonny craned his head, trying to see the screen around the little girl's bouncing form. "Huh?"
"You said on the weekend, on the weekend we could go to the place with the dinosaurs," she reminded him.
He furrowed his brow and took a sip of his beer. "Oh, the museum? Tomorrow? I don't think so."
"The day after?"
"No, probably not."
"Please, can we go?" Jesse whined, her little arms flailing at her side. "You promised."
"I said no, Jesse. Let it go, would ya?" he snapped irritably.
Even though it wasn't directed at her, the sharp tone of Sonny's voice stung Amanda; her breath caught in her chest in surprise. Wide-eyed, she watched Jesse's lower lip puff out and her little nose scrunch before she ran from the living room to scamper up the stairs. Frannie, who had been at Sonny's side, jumped up from the couch to chase after her. Amanda closed her laptop, got up from her stool, then bounded up the steps to follow her daughter. In the hallway, she gently rapped her knuckles against Jesse's closed bedroom door.
"Jesse? It's your mama," she called through the wood. "Can I come in?"
"Uh huh," came the little girl's muffled voice.
Amanda let herself inside and shut the door behind her. She frowned at the sight of Jesse, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, her head hung. "You okay?"
She shook her head, eyes on the floor. "Daddy's mad at me."
Sighing, Amanda sat down next to Jesse. "He's not mad at you."
"He used a mad voice," she mumbled.
"He didn't mean to." She toyed with Jesse's long hair as she tried to think of a way to explain the situation when she couldn't really figure it out herself. "He's just... he didn't mean to."
Jesse sniffled.
"I'll take you to the museum tomorrow, how about that?" Amanda told her, hand drifting from her hair to give her back a reassuring rub. "Just you and me."
The little girl lifted her head and shook it, her mouth in a pout and her brown eyes wet with tears. "I wanna go with daddy."
Her answer didn't surprise Amanda; Jesse and Sonny had always found science and history way more interesting than she ever had. "Alright, well. Let me go talk with him, okay?"
Amanda walked down the steps quietly to find Sonny in the exact same spot she had left him in. Arms crossed over her chest, she stood deliberately in front of the television in the position Jesse had occupied moments earlier. "You were kinda harsh on her, Sonny."
Sonny met her narrow gaze. "Well, she wasn't listenin'. She never lets stuff go."
"She's five," she reminded him. "I think you should apologize."
"I'm not gonna apologize for askin' her to listen to me," he scoffed.
She rolled her eyes. "You didn't ask, you told."
"That's the beauty of bein' a parent, isn't it?" he snorted sarcastically.
"Whatever, Sonny." For the first time that evening, her eyes drifted to the coffee table, which was now littered with empty beer bottles and a short glass that held only a melting ice cube. "You wanna slow down a little?" she said irritably, not entirely sure if she was more concerned or pissed off. "We're supposed to be at your sister's at ten tomorrow and I'd rather you not be half in the bag."
"Relax, it's Saturday," Sonny insisted. "I'm fine."
"You aren't fine," she challenged him. "You're bein' a real jerk."
Sonny averted his eyes, looking as annoyed as Amanda felt.
"Hey, pay attention to me," Amanda demanded, her cheeks heating up with her agitation. She could feel her heart beat quickening, knowing she wasn't going to be able to tip-toe around his change in demeanor any longer. "You've been a prick for the past week and I've tolerated it, but it's getting old. What the hell is going on with you?"
His jaw twitched, but he remained silent.
"Is this about, are you upset about the school? Is it still botherin' you?" Amanda went on, her voice softer and gentler as she grew desperate. "I get it, Sonny, I do but... you haven't said a word to me about it."
"I don't have anything to say about it," he finally replied.
"I'm a cop and I'm your wife. Don't you think you can talk to me?" she pleaded. "You've always talked to me."
"Maybe I don't feel like talkin'."
"You're always up my ass to talk about my feelings-"
"Right, and sometimes you don't wanna. So... I don't want to."
Taken aback by his response, Amanda swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat. She gritted her teeth, on the edge of using his words as an excuse to initiate a colossal argument, tempted to make Sonny feel as hurt as she did. In fact, she wanted to pick up one of the beer bottles and hurl it at his head - and maybe years ago, she would have. She had worked very hard at controlling her reactions to things, to think before she spoke, but this was the most challenging test to Amanda's impulse control to date. She wanted to be a partner to Sonny and to be supportive for better or for worse, but it was so much harder to do than than their marriage vows had ever indicated.
Despite the anger and confusion that was burning in her gut, Amanda lifted two shaky palms up in defeat. "Alright. Okay," she whispered. "You don't have to talk to me."
When Monday morning came, Amanda was relieved to go into work. SVU provided a distraction from the tension she was trying to navigate at home. She and Sonny moved around one another in the precinct as they always did - focused on their individual tasks and not their private relationship - which meant she could pretend everything was normal for a few hours. Spring was one of SVU's busiest season, so there was no shortage of work for her to do, either. It was barely ten a.m. when Amanda had just finished interviewing her third witness of the day; a Midtown bar fight had morphed into an aggravated rape the night before. In the hallway, she was on her way to talk to Fin when she paused outside of interview room two, the ajar door allowing her to hear the familiar voices of Sonny and Dana.
"...bet you're glad to go back to LA next week," she heard Sonny say.
"Kinda, yeah," Dana replied.
"You holdin' up okay?" he wondered. "Last week was rough."
"I'm okay. How about you, though?" she asked. "You've got that look."
Sonny chuckled. "What look?"
"Y'know. That look you get when you've got stuff on your mind," Dana explained.
"Ah. Well, yeah," he admitted. "It's just... I haven't gotten a lotta sleep since all this happened."
"Me neither." Dana heaved a sigh. "I was trying to explain it to my sister, but..."
"It's hard to talk about it with people who haven't been there," Sonny concluded. "It's a lot to... put on another person."
"Yeah. Well, at least we know we can always talk to one another." The smile was evident in Dana's voice.
Notebook pressed to her chest, Amanda's feet carried her back into the squad room, as if they knew before her brain that she did not want to hear the rest of that conversation. In that brief instant, Sonny had spoken more words to Dana than he had uttered to her in a week. Bile rose up in her throat as she wondered, is he having an affair with her? All of the aloofness and irritability between them, was it not really about PS 77 at all? Was Amanda the real problem - and Dana the solution Sonny had sought?
"Rollins?" Fin's voice cut through her mounting panic. "You good with that witness?"
"Huh? What?" she stammered. She used the back of her hand to brush her bangs away from her forehead, the skin there now sticky with sweat. "I, uh, yeah. She's... all good. She can go."
"You don't look so hot" Fin observed. "Feelin' okay?"
Amanda shouldered past Fin, desperate to get away from his gaze. "I'm fine," she lied.
Amanda didn't often run at night, but at the end of May, the temperature was ideal when the sun went down. It was Friday evening and Sonny's parents had taken the kids to their house till Saturday afternoon, allowing Amanda to escape the house without worrying about baths and bedtimes. More than anything, her run was an excuse to get away from Sonny. She had spent the past four days obsessing over the conversation she had overheard between him and Dana, picking it apart, analyzing it - but she hadn't mentioned it to him. She didn't know how to, but mostly, she was afraid of hearing Sonny's response. She had never felt so disconnected from him before; she used to think she knew him better than she knew herself. Now, Sonny was like a stranger.
She had been gone two hours by the time she ended up back on the front steps of their Astoria home, breathless and covered in a sheen of sweat. She let herself in and was greeted by the sound of the television, although Sonny definitely wasn't watching it. Instead, he was slumped on the couch, head lolled to one side, very obviously passed out drunk. A bottle of Jameson sat half-empty on the coffee table, right beside his glass. Frannie sniffed him curiously, her tail wagging back and forth quickly as she yearned for some attention.
Concerned, Amanda rushed to Sonny's side and shook his shoulder. "Sonny? Hey, Sonny?" she called, hovering over him. He reeked of booze. "Jesus Christ, you're plastered. C'mon, get up."
Sonny groaned, his eyes fluttering open briefly as he struggled to move away from her. "Stop. Stop it"
"Come on, come upstairs," she urged him, tugging at his arm.
"'Manda, leave me alone," Sonny grumbled, eyes shut again.
She pulled more insistently. "Sonny-"
"I said leave me alone." He shook her hand off of him with so much force that Amanda jumped. Like a child throwing a tantrum, he flopped over so he was one long line on the couch, then turned inward so his back was to her.
She had grown up around enough drunks to know that arguing with an intoxicated person was pointless. With a growl of frustration, Amanda stormed out of the living room and went upstairs. She slammed the door of their bedroom shut behind her, the wood cracking satisfyingly against the frame. Arms crossed tightly across her chest, she paced. Her eyes drifted to their bed, where she spotted Sonny's phone on the comforter. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip as she tried to resist the urge to pick it up - she wasn't that kind of woman, was she? - but soon she was lunging for it like it might disappear from her sight at any moment.
Fast thumbs entered Sonny's numeric passcode - all of the kids' birthdays - and the screen unlocked successfully. Amanda looked over her shoulder cautiously, but was reassured by the fact that Sonny was likely too hammered to make it up the stairs without her hearing him first. Her heart pounded at a sickening rate in her chest as she opened up his iMessages. Dana's name stood out in his inbox and she clicked it to reveal a string of recent texts, just from that day - and apparently nothing prior.
Hope you have a good weekend. You deserve it, was Dana's first message.
Sonny replied: thanks. You too. I appreciate you listening to me this week
Of course. You know I'm always here for you
I know...
Call me later if you want xo
She frantically went to his phone call list, but she didn't see Dana's name incoming or outgoing. In a daze, she sifted through every digital corner of Sonny's phone, from his e-mails to his photos to his browser history. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but Amanda didn't need hard evidence to fuel her hunch - she was already dizzy with dread. She was well-versed enough in technology to know that people could delete data easily, she just never thought Sonny would be one of them. He was so open - he teased her for being paranoid - and his honesty was unfailing.
My Sonny doesn't keep secrets from me, Amanda reminded herself. Except, right now, she didn't feel like she was dealing with her Sonny at all.
Amanda exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air. From her spot on a lounge chair in their tiny back yard, she was comfortable in the sixty-degree weather in just a sweatshirt and leggings. With her knees bent to her chest, Frannie was able to curl up at the end of her chaise and keep her company. The baby monitor sat on the grass beside them, displaying Ruby asleep in her crib. Amanda tapped her ashes onto the grass as she stared out at the fence that separated their property from the neighbors'. Every few months, she dug into the pocket of an old coat and retrieved a few cigarettes from a pack she hid there. She was careful to never let the kids see her, and Sonny knew about it but had stopped badgering her since she did it so infrequently. It wasn't a vice Amanda was proud of, but in a sick kind of way, she was comforted by the mere knowledge that the cigarettes were there, even if she barely ever picked them up.
She heard the back door creak open but she didn't turn around; she knew it was Sonny. Amanda was simultaneously worried about him and extremely angry. Her stomach churned whenever she even attempted to process her internal conflict. She had thought maybe it would feel freeing not to yell and throw a fit, but instead, it was suffocating. The anxiety kept building up inside of her day after day; soon it wouldn't have anywhere left to go.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Sonny sit on the edge of the empty chair beside her. She kept her gaze straight ahead as she pulled another drag of nicotine in her lungs, weighing her options. It was quiet except for the sound of cars roaming up and down their street - too quiet. Sonny wasn't saying anything, wasn't moving, and after a minute she couldn't stand it. Without turning her head, Amanda finally asked into the darkness, "are you sleeping with her?"
"What? No, of course not," he told her immediately, his voice low but his outrage obvious.
She ran her tongue against the back of her upper teeth and tasted smoke. "I went through your messages yesterday."
"Okay..."
"Yeah."
"Amanda," he said gently. "You know me better than that."
Finally, Amanda turned her head to look at him. Even in the darkness, she could see how rumpled he looked, how tired. She narrowed her gaze. "Do I?"
His brow furrowed, visibly hurt, and he bowed his head.
"You know, I have been... I have been trying really hard to let you work through whatever it is you're workin' through," Amanda told him, a tremor in her quiet voice. "But, you are just... you've shut me out. And I could deal with that, but what I can't deal with is you talking to Dana like you used to talk to me."
Sonny lifted his gaze. "I'm not-"
"Whatever the hell is happening between ya'll, I don't wanna know," she interrupted. "You've always stood by me, even through some really bad shit, so I'm going to do the same for you. I'm gonna keep on doing what I've been doing and try to keep everything all together, 'cause there are three kids in there who think you're a goddamn superhero, and Lord knows I don't want any of this bullshit to impact them." She turned in her chair, now sitting on the edge of it, facing him. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears even though her tone was angry. "But don't you dare make a fool outta me. Don't leave me in the dark and turn around and tell somebody else all the things you're keeping from me. Whatever it is that's going on with you, Sonny, figure it out. Please."
Rising to her feet, she dropped the remainder of her cigarette into the grass before stamping it out with the toe of her sneaker. Snatching up the baby monitor, she disappeared back into the house before Sonny could speak, then bounded up the stairs to their bedroom. It was only after she was shut inside of the bathroom with the door locked that Amanda finally allowed herself to cry freely.
It was hard to keep his eyes focused on his laptop screen. Sonny rubbed his face with rough palms in an attempt to keep himself awake at his desk. Almost alone in the precinct, he was determined to get the work done that he had been avoiding for days, but on little-to-no sleep it was proving to be a challenge. He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, studying the blank report from a case he worked last week. Everything felt blurry and jumbled together after PS 77. Lately, it was as if he was perpetually moving through a very dense fog...
The sound of footsteps got his attention: Sonny looked up to see Fin weaving through the squad room.
"Hey, Fin," he greeted the sergeant.
"Carisi, hey. Didn't think anybody else would still be here." Fin grabbed his iPhone from his desk and brandished it. "Forgot this."
Sonny nodded then admitted sheepishly, "yeah, well, I've been kinda slackin' on my paperwork."
Fin stopped in front of Sonny's desk, both his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he eyed him. "This may not be my place but, is everything okay with you and Rollins?"
"Yeah, everything is fine," Sonny lied, because things had never been less fine.
"Oh. Okay."
"She say something to you?"
"Nah. Just a feeling. Seems like that school hit you pretty hard."
"Yeah."
"Y'want my advice?"
Sonny sighed, shut his tired eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "You're gonna give it to me no matter what, aren't you?"
"Yep," Fin told him bluntly. "This job can make you lose your faith in everything. All this terrible shit happenin'... but..."
He looked up at Fin wearily. "But?"
"Just... " He clapped a hand on Sonny's shoulder on his way toward the elevator. "Don't die before you're dead."
