Saturday, December 20th, 2003

Tribeca Rooftop & 360

Manhattan, New York

4:56 PM

Elliot Stabler

The first day I met Dominick Carisi, I was knocking on death's door.

Today, I had the privilege of standing beside him as his best man, watching on as he married the love of his life.

It's amazing how life comes full circle.

Dominick was 18 years old – as green as they come – and on his first tour in some small mountain town in the middle of nowhere, Kuwait. He and I met his first day at base; he'd begrudgingly barreled through the barracks door, mouthing off to our Staff Sergeant. He was worn from his flight and anxious, really anxious, as he was stuffed into his home away from home for the foreseeable future. A couple of my other war buddies – Fletcher, Schmidt, Rusty, and myself, were all seated around a dilapidated pop-up card table, cigarettes dangling out of our mouths and tobacco shoved in our jaws, listening to the low hum of a Bruce Springsteen cassette, playing a round of Texas Hold 'Em. The Staff Sergeant was cussing at him loud enough for all of us to hear, ragging on him for missing his family and missing being on American soil. I remember Sergeant Evans telling us he's your problem now, slamming the door behind him with enough force to cause the poker chips to tumble. Carisi didn't want to be here any more than we wanted him here, and it wasn't because we didn't like him; there were just too many of us here already, and I didn't want to risk possibly losing another one.

And he was so young.

Carisi had told me in the many days that followed this that his parents sent him to military school when he was 16. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, hanging out with the wrong crowd. He allegedly got caught stealing a car. The charges were later dropped when he was found not guilty, but for fear of him never turning his life around, his parents shipped him off, 1,000 miles away from home.

The military school sent him to Parris Island.

Parris Island sent him to us.

I remember him throwing his duffel bag across the linoleum floor and falling back onto the cot. He stared up at the ceiling fan through three more rounds of poker, hating his life, hating his parents, and hating the world because we were off fighting someone else's battle. Glory Days was playing in the background, and I was recruited by the three hooligans whose asses I was kicking to befriend the new guy. Dominick was quiet as we greeted each other; real soft-spoken, but I recognized the New York accent weaved through each syllable. He wasn't rough around the edges like the rest of us who'd seen shit this past year were.

Where are you from?

Staten Island, New York.

Fellow New Yorker, I remember telling him as I slapped his combat boot and ash my cigarette on the ground next to the cot. I'm from Queens.

I want to go home. I didn't sign up for this shit.

It's not so bad, I told him, as I grabbed my pack of Marlboro reds out of the pocket of my camouflage pants and passed it to him. He'd declined it as I laughed and lit up another, letting the rush of nicotine course through my bloodstream. The guys here are cool. Staff Sergeant can be a dick, but that's normal. It ain't so bad once you get used to it.

Yeah, okay. You're just saying that.

I'm not, I swear. This is my second tour with many of these same guys. You'll get used to it soon.

Whatever.

I didn't catch your name, man.

Why are you bein' so nice to me?

Because no one was to me when I came here last year.

Dominick Carisi, Jr.. Most of my family calls me Sonny, though.

Nice to meet you, Sonny. I'm Elliot Stabler. We'll call you Sonny then if that's okay. Dominick is a mouthful.

Actually… do you mind just calling me Carisi?

Sure, we can do that. I remember chuckling and letting time pass between us as Carisi turned to face the wall. Who you got waitin' at home for you, Carisi?

My mom… my dad… my sisters… my family… I recall the heavy sobs coming from his chest. We've all been there. I wasn't one to pass judgment on the kid.

No girlfriend?

Nope.

No wife, no kids?

No. What about you, Stabler?

I've got a wife at home… her name is Kathy. And my baby girl is Kathleen… she'll be one on May 25th.

I'm missing them tonight, as I often do. Both of my girls. It was weird being here, celebrating him without them. Kathy loved Dominick like a brother – so much so that we made Kathleen his goddaughter. He used to join us for Sunday dinners after mass. He'd brought Amanda once, and they hit it off. I know Kathy would have loved her, though. My heart aches. I was grateful, still, that Kathleen was just a quick phone call away.

Kathy was much further away than that.

Carisi, myself and the rest of our squad members had gotten called out to a mission at dusk that same evening. We dressed in our combat gear and loaded our utility vehicles in silence, praying to ourselves that we'd have the chance to come back to this shack of a barrack and continue that game of poker that we had to stop playing halfway through and listen to the other side of that Bruce Springsteen cassette. We prayed that we could live another day on this Earth and go home and see our families and loved ones.

As I laced up my combat boots, I looked at Carisi, whose face was as white as a sheet—poor kid. Our Staff Sergeant told us we just needed to survey the area quickly; there had been some rumblings in the past hour, and he said something just seemed off. Carisi watched me as I grab the photo of Kathy and Kathleen on our wedding day tucked inside the dresser drawer. I kissed it as I placed it in my combat helmet, grabbed my M27, and began the treacherous walk with the rest of the squad members, Staff Sergeant leading the pack.

It was hot as hell as we walked down the dirt-covered road, past the tall grasses, making sure we were in the clear as we carried on. Staff Sergeant Evans had warned of IEDs that may have been hidden in the field, so the 11 of us were extra cautious as we walked.

We weren't outside the base for 10 minutes before the gunfire began.

I went down immediately. I'd never been shot before, and the pain ran down my entire body, causing me to go limp and fall to the dirt road.

"Stabler!" Carisi had shouted. I can still hear the way he said my name that day, and it takes me back to the moment that I knew I would die. It was gut-wrenching; the way one's name could pierce their soul, almost as if they knew they were never going to hear it spoken to them again.

I considered myself one of the lucky ones to have never been shot before. My luck had finally run out, though. The first time, I've learned, is the worst.

The second time isn't so bad.

The third time isn't either.

I remember the way Carisi knelt in front of me and picked up my slouched head. He sat down instantly, pushing his legs straight before him, and placed my body over his lap. He began to slap my cheeks and said, "Stabler, man, you gotta stay with me, okay? Think about that beautiful wife and baby girl at home."

By the time he began to apply pressure to my wound, I could feel that my body had already lost a ton of blood. If this is how I would go, I'm glad that it was in the arms of a fellow brother instead of by myself out in that field.

When I awoke in the medical facility that next morning, Carisi was by my side.

He's the reason that I'm still on this Earth.

He's the reason my children still have a father.

I owe him my life and so much more.

Pulling myself from my trip down memory lane, I make my way over to the glass-top bar stationed in the corner of the packed ballroom. Guests had begun filtering in and out – there were probably 200 people already here, with more expected to arrive soon – but out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her.

Olivia Benson.

I remember seeing her earlier in the day as she walked down the aisle holding a bouquet of white roses. She looked so fucking gorgeous; the way the emerald dress framed her small curves, the subtle way that the makeup she wore brought out the mounds of freckles on her cheekbones that danced along her olive skin, and the way her brunette hair fell in a pool of curves. Her hands are on her hips as she talks sternly to someone I can only assume to be one of the catering staff members, causing multiple guests to look in her direction as she raises her voice. I shake my head and laugh as the bartender pours me a glass of Jameson neat and red wine. I approach the winding bridal party table on the back wall underneath the sparkling chandelier. She'd taken her rightful seat next to where Amanda will soon sit and seemed almost relieved when I took a seat next to her.

"I thought this might go down better than a vodka cranberry," I smile.

She laughs back, removing her hand from her chin where it once rested. "Thanks, El. I appreciate it."

"Where are the lovely bride and groom at?" I inquire. I made a bee-line off of the bus when it dropped us in front of the venue; the cooler that they tasked me to carry into the bridal suite was heavy, and I wanted to set it on solid ground before my arms gave out.

"They wanted some alone time before the reception started," Olivia replies.

"Think they're having a quickie in the bridal suite?" I joke.

"Probably," she takes a sip of her wine. "Amanda looks hot. If I were Carisi, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her."

The room grows louder around us as our conversation comes to a halt. When I begin to sense the awkward tension between us, I break it by saying, "what were you arguing with that poor woman about?"

"That poor woman," Olivia scoffs. "That poor woman just told me dinner is running late because they had some vegetable mishap… I don't know. The DJ will talk to them and try to stall Carisi and Rollins' grand entrance."

"We gotta do that too. The grand entrance thingy?" I wasn't one for weddings. Hated them. I didn't get the hype about spending $50,000 so that you could throw your friends and family a party because you signed a piece of paper.

I will say, however, this is one that I'd been paying attention to, and it was all Liv's doing.

She'd asked me, during pictures, to be serious and grow the fuck up, I believe, were the exact words she used. She and Amanda put a lot of effort into the reception; they'd thought of every detail, and it showed.

There were over 30 guest tables, including the bridal party table, that had been draped with satin ivory linens. The napkins were placed under a glass salad plate in a column fold and resembled the same shade of emerald as her dress. Towering trumpet vases full of white, cream, and Cabernet flower arrangements were on half of the tables, while three glass cylinders with pillar candles were on the others. Fresh pine garland lined the middle of the bridal party table, with accenting gold candlesticks placed strategically in a zig-zag pattern. There were other tables off to the side of the venue; one for cards and gifts, one for the people we lost along the way, and one dedicated to the love story of the bride and groom. A lofty 6-tier cake was placed on a cake stand in the middle of the dance floor, and a dessert and candy table were set closest to the entrance.

"Yeah," she says in a breathy tone, sipping her wine.

"Can I get you anything?" She shakes her head. "I saw someone passing around appetizers earlier. I'm happy to snag some for you."

"Nope, I'm fine," she smiles.

"When was the last time you ate?" I ask her, genuinely concerned. I hadn't seen her eat any of the sandwiches from the deli tray when we were on the bus, and though there was talk of breakfast when we were cuddled in the hotel room together this morning, I doubt that ever panned out.

"At dinner yesterday," she admits, taking another sip of her wine.

I grab the glass from her hand as she shoots me a death glare. I place the half-empty wine glass a few inches away from my Jameson. "Olivia…"

"El, please. I'm fine. I don't need you taking care of me."

"I think you do… you're just too stubborn to admit it."

"I don't," she huffs. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"Not," I laugh. "Part of taking care of yourself is remembering to eat." I did think she wanted someone to take care of her. She could put on whatever façade she wanted to. All day long, she's been taking care of Amanda, answering her every beck and call.

Who was taking care of her?

I flag down one of the servers carrying a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops and place four on a gold cocktail napkin before her. Soon after, another server makes their rounds to us, offering miniature beef wellingtons, and I politely accept a few from their tray.

She raises a brow. "You want me to eat all of this?"

"Yep," I say, pushing the cocktail napkin closer to her. "Can't have you fainting on me, Benson. Plus, I'm sure none of these lovely guests want to hear your rendition of Night Moves. So please, eat," I encourage her, taking a sip of Jameson and handing her back her wine glass.

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Hey, we're on a date, remember?" I shrug. "I'm just doing what any normal man should do." I steal one of the scallops and pop it in my mouth, observing as she polishes off every last appetizer I placed in front of her. "How is it?"

"It's good for wedding food," she smiles. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, it's not bad," I laugh, taking another sip of my drink.

"Sorry for snapping earlier. I was just…."

"Hangry?"

"Yes," she says, reaching for the pre-poured glass of water beside her. "And stressed."

"Liv," I say, as I place my hand on her back, "it looks beautiful here. You did an amazing job. A job, which is done," I tell her, grabbing my rocks glass and clinking it to the wine glass in her hand. I turn my chair towards her as she does the same and stretches her legs to place them in my lap. Her heels circle between my legs, and I put my hand over her foot to stop her. She throws her head back, laughing. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Oh, is that so?" she winks. "Trust me, Stabler. Anything I start, I can finish."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?" She jokes, taking another long sip of her wine and polishing off the rest of her glass. "People are staring," she whispers, looking around the room at the realization that the two of us were not in our little world.

"We aren't doing anything wrong," I remind her. "Let them stare."

It's a little before 6 when the DJ pulls the two of us from our conversation and flirtation. Olivia grabs the bouquet she's stuffed on the table next to her as we emerge from our Chiavari chairs and plant our feet on the ground. I take her by the hand as she pulls away. "Not here… not in front of Amanda and Carisi. They'll have my head." I stuff my hand that was once joined with hers in the front pocket of my dress pants as we file out into the hallway, greeted by the rest of the wedding party and the bride and groom.

The DJ walks us through the order of events: grand entrance, cake cutting, followed by the first dance, then toasts and speeches, then dinner. After dinner, Amanda and Carisi would be doing something called table touches, then doing parent dances, then the dance floor would open.

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel.

As the DJ hurries back to his booth to ready the crowd, the opening beat of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons December 1963 (Oh, What A Night!) begins to fill the ballroom. Guests are standing up from their seats, clapping and dancing along to the beat of the music, as the DJ announces the bridal party; Bella and Tommy, Gina and Angelo, Theresa, and Fin, and then finally,

"Please make some noise for your maid of honor, Olivia Benson, and best man, Elliot Stabler!"

Liv and I admittedly have no strategy. We look at each other, shrug our shoulders, and waltz onto the dance floor, chumming it up as we start to make the similar dance moves that Danny and Sandy do in the school dance scene in the movie Grease. She was a natural; the smile beaming from her face was not forced, and it was so good to see. The two of us continue to make fools of ourselves in the middle of the dance floor.

I could feel myself wanting to be closer to her, wanting to have her as a part of my life for more than just this weekend. I refused to accept that she would leave my life after the wedding reception this evening. I hadn't been this happy or this drawn to someone since…

"Now, the reason we are all here this evening," the DJ projects into the microphone. "It is my honor to announce officially, for the second time today, Mr. and Mrs. Dominick Carisi!"

From where the bridal party is placed, I see Amanda and Carisi dancing their way into the reception, hand in hand, her riling up the crowd and holding her bouquet in the air as if she'd just won the prize of her life. Both faces are flush, and Amanda is near the point of tears as she sees her wedding venue and guests that have come to celebrate the pair for the first time. After they dance for a bit jokingly on the dance floor, the two head straight to the cake to accomplish the ceremonial task at hand.

"They make a good couple," I whisper to Liv once we've taken our seats at the table.

"They look so happy," she gushes.

Once both Carisi and Amanda have been fed a small bite of cassata cake, the lights dim overhead as they make their way back to the dance floor. I didn't recognize the song right away, as the DJ changed the music, to which Liv told me it was a country song called Making Memories of Us by Keith Urban. The story goes, from Liv, that Amanda and Carisi had a hard time finding a song that represented the two of them and the love she shared - they'd gone through hundreds of love songs one night and came up empty. Amanda was standing in the kitchen one day making dinner, and Carisi was lying on the couch watching a Mets game. She had the radio on and stopped to turn it up for him to hear. Amanda had told Liv that she just knew; she could picture them waltzing around the dance floor to this song. The two were graceful in their steps as they glided around the dance floor, telling each other how much they loved each other and how this was the happiest day of their lives.

As the music ends again, Carisi and Amanda retreat to the head table, as a chorus of knives clinking against champagne glasses fills the vicinity. The two embrace in a lengthy kiss and take their seats, moving their chairs closer to each other so Dominick can wrap his arm around her waist.

"We'd like to kick off tonight's celebration by making a few toasts. Our maid of honor, Olivia Benson, has a few words she would like to share."

Liv stands up from her chair and grabs the stem of a glass of champagne as the DJ walks across the floor to hand her the microphone. She takes a deep breath and looks down at her notecards in front of her, and says, "hi, everyone. For those of you that don't know me, my name is Olivia Benson, and I have the honor of being Amanda's maid of honor. First and foremost, I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for being here today. I know a lot of you traveled a great distance to be here this evening, and we are so grateful that you are here to celebrate with the bride and groom." The room fills with applause as Olivia continues. "I also wanted to take a moment to thank Mrs. Serafina Carisi for the wonderful rehearsal dinner she and Sonny's family threw last night. We love you so much and are so touched by how you have accepted Amanda and welcomed her as part of your family. Girlfriend…" she looks at Amanda, whose arm is wrapped around Carisi's bicep, "you did it. You are finally here, on your wedding day, on your husband's arm. Take a moment, both of you – both of you take a moment – to look around this room and soak in all of the love that your friends and family are passing on to you today. Today is one of those days that you'll tell your children's children about." She smiles and flips to her next notecard. "Amanda and I are both detectives for the NYPD; more specifically, we are the only two women detectives as part of the Manhattan division of the special victims unit. She and I have been partners for the last five years. I remember the first day that she walked into the precinct, wearing a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. Do you remember the first thing I told you?"

Amanda chuckles to herself and buries her head in Carisi's arm. "You should really buy a blazer."

"And you did!" Olivia smiles. "You bought exactly one blazer, and it was black, and you wore it to every single call we would go on to prove a point to me. To prove to me that you were worthy of being a detective and worthy enough to speak up for voices that have been silenced for so long. We were not each other's favorite people for the first few months of our partnership. I'm stubborn, and so are you, and sometimes that stubbornness can make it hard to let people in. But you did. Eventually, you let me all of the way in. The first real conversation that we had was when you told me how quiet it was back in Georgia and how you missed that sometimes, but you loved the hustle and bustle of the big city. It's amazing how in a city this big, the two of us still managed to be thrown together, forever cemented in the history of the 1-6. I knew the first time you met Dominick Carisi – horrible mustache and all, Sonny; we are all so glad that you shaved that thing – that you were going to marry him. Call it best friend intuition, but I felt we would all be sitting here one day. How you talked about him was unlike how you had talked about anyone before. And then, I saw it. I saw the true love between the two of you. Witnessing that – the way this goombah treats you, loves on you, and cares for you, is unlike any fairytale that I've ever seen. Carisi looks at you, Amanda, with such an adoration that will make anyone jealous. The chemistry between the both of you is unspeakable. You're great apart but so much better together, and we are all beyond blessed to have bared witness to the next chapter of your love story today. Sonny, today, I pass the best friend torch off to you. Please take care of my best friend. Please never stop treating her like the amazing woman that she is. Please always look back on this day and the vows that you two shared when life gets hard – because it will, life will get hard – but please know that you have so many people supporting you and so many people around you that love you and that is rooting for you." Liv takes a sip of her champagne. "Amanda, being your partner for the past five years has brought me a great deal of joy. Being your friend, however…."

"Best," Amanda coos through the tears in her eyes.

"…being your best friend for all of these years is one of the greatest roles that I will ever be in. I love you, Amanda Marie Rollins, and I always will."

The guests burst into a sea of applause as Amanda, Carisi, and Olivia share in a sentimental embrace. The DJ announces it is my turn to speak, and Liv passes me the microphone.

I fucking hate public speaking. But, for the man that saved my life, I'm honored to be able to do this for him.

"Hey, guys. My name is Elliot Stabler, and I am honored to be Sonny Carisi's best man." A few guests applaud as I place my hand on Carisi's shoulder. "As many of you know, Carisi and I were stationed in Kuwait in the early 90s and then later became partners, working together in the NYPD on Staten Island's homicide unit. Semper Fi," I say as Carisi nods his head. "Semper Fidelis a the motto of the United States Marine Corps. It means always faithful and is an eternal and collective commitment to the success of our battles, the progress of our nation, and the steadfast loyalty to the fellow Marines we fight alongside. In the military, we always speak of missions. Amanda and Carisi, your mission in life has truly just begun. Carisi and I have gone through a lot of things together over the years – 3 tours in some far-off country on the other side of the world, countless holidays and birthdays, over 400 investigations, and hundreds of debates on which New York Sports team would upset us the most this year. What did we decide on for 2003, man? The Mets?" I ask as Carisi nods his head, laughing back. "We've been through triumph and loss, and good times and bad. We have laughed together, cried together… we have celebrated together. We got drunk on base and sang classic rock songs at the top of our lungs together… you have been a great best friend, man. You saved my life. How many friends can truly say that? You saved me from dying, and while this doesn't repay the debt I owe you, it's a start. I am so proud of the man that you have become. Much different than that skinny 18-year-old boy that walked through the door of those barracks all those years ago." I clear my throat. "Amanda, you look stunning this evening. You two are so lucky to have found each other. Liv said your story is one of the fairytales, and she is right. Make it your mission in life always to love and respect each other and always, always forgive. Life is too damn short not to spend it with the one you love. Congratulations to both on starting this new mission today. Semper Fi, man. Cheers!" I raise my champagne glass and take a swig as Amanda and Carisi embrace in a kiss. After a quick hug from Amanda and a handshake and a quick hug from Carisi, the DJ announces that the servers will be around shortly with our plated meals. Frank Sinatra can be heard playing overhead as the line at the bar begins to grow and guests start to engage in their conversations.

"You know that stuff you said about how life is short and all of that?" Carisi leans over, pulling my attention from Olivia and talking to a few people that have approached their table.

"Yeah," I say, finishing off my glass of champagne.

"Same goes for you too, man. It's been two years. You're allowed to open up your heart again. You're too good of a guy to spend the rest of your life alone."