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A knock sounded at his office door and Barba glanced up from the case file he was scanning, barely registering the detective that stood in his doorway. “Detective,” he said, dropping his gaze back to the case file. “Can I help you with something?”
“Detective?” the detective in question repeated, laughing. “That's a hell of a way to greet your own husband.”
Barba looked up again, smiling this time. “Sorry,” he said, taking the moment he hadn't spared before to drink in the sight of Carisi leaning against the door jamb and grinning at him. “I wasn't paying attention, and besides, it's been awhile since you've made a house call. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Carisi crossed over to him, leaning over to drop a kiss onto his lips. “Trial prep with that new ADA,” he said with a sigh and an eye roll as he sank into the chair across from Barba. “Honestly, with every new ADA we get, I'm half-tempted to divorce you just so you can go back to prosecuting my cases.”
“Tempting,” Barba said nonchalantly. “I can get the legal documents drawn up, if you’d like. But if you want to get anything out of this marriage other than the meager assets you brought in, I’d wait a few more years.”
Carisi rolled his eyes again. “You take all the fun out of things sometimes,” he complained, but he was smiling. “Seriously, though, this new ADA is…” He trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Well, she’s not you.”
Barba smirked at Carisi. “An astute observation, Detective.”
“You know what I mean,” Carisi said impatiently. “And just for that, I’m taking back my lunch invitation.”
“You didn’t ask me to lunch,” Barba pointed out evenly.
Carisi gave him a look. “Yeah, and now I’m not gonna.” He stood and stretched, a smirk of his own flashing across his face as Barba watched the movement with an almost hungry look in his eyes. “Hey, uh, you got dinner plans tonight?”
Barba sighed and gestured at the case file in front of him. “Trial prep of my own, unfortunately. It’s going to be a late one for me.” He gave Carisi an appraising look and offered, “Bring Chinese and help me prep, and it’ll be like old times.”
“How can I possibly say no to a romantic invitation like that?” Carisi asked, but he was grinning. “That place by the precinct, or…?”
“Surprise me,” Barba said, something almost sweet in his smile. “You know what I like.”
Carisi smirked. “You know I do.” With that, he stood and headed towards the door, though he paused, his expression turning serious. “By the way, you might want to schedule an eye doctor appointment when you get a chance.”
Barba stared up at him. “Why?” he asked, a touch defensively, having come to terms with his need for glasses a few years back, despite the trauma at the time. “My eyes are fine.”
“Sure they are,” Carisi said, his tone of voice indicating that he was just humoring Barba. “Only when I first got here, I swear for a moment you didn't recognize me.” He said it casually enough, even trying to joke it off by adding, “So get your eyes checked before it starts to wound my ego”, but Barba could tell by the pucker of his forehead that he was slightly worried.
So Barba rolled his eyes and settled for scoffing, “I think your ego will be fine”, before adding, mostly to get Carisi to drop the subject, “But I'll have Carmen make an appointment for me. Promise.”
“Good,” Carisi said, seemingly satisfied. “See you tonight.”
He left, and Barba shook his head, looking back down at the case file, but then Carisi burst back into his office. “Completely forgot,” he said breathlessly, crossing over to Barba and pulling him from his chair so that he could kiss him again. “I love you.”
“You’re a sap,” Barba told him, but he was grinning, and even kissed Carisi once more before shoving him towards the door. “Go do your job.”
Carisi smiled and waved before ducking out again, and Barba sat back at his desk, his grin not disappearing for a long time after that.
“Revenge porn?” Carisi asked, a little disgruntledly, reaching across the table to snag some of Barba’s garlic pork. “How is this even still up for debate? You can’t post nudes of your ex-girlfriend online — at least, you can’t since 2018 when New York finally passed a revenge porn law.”
Barba glared at him but didn’t comment on the garlic pork theft. “In this case, it was ex-boyfriend,” he said. “And in this case, the defense is claiming that the defendant didn’t post the pictures online to shame his ex, but rather to catfish unsuspecting victims on Grindr.” Barba made a face. “Frankly, the fact that I know what any of that means is deeply upsetting to me.”
Carisi laughed at the look on his face and shook his head. “Still illegal dissemination, isn’t it?”
“Technically, yes,” Barba said, grabbing the carton of fried rice and scooping a mouthful with his chopsticks before telling Carisi, “But thanks to the rather stringent guidance of the ACLU, New York’s law was drafted such that intent matters, meaning that the act itself is not proof enough and the state has to prove…”
He trailed off, his brow furrowing, and Carisi glanced over at him, frowning slightly. “Rafael?” he asked, and when Barba didn’t answer, he leaned over to wave his hand in front of Barba’s face. “Hey, Counselor, are you still with me?”
Barba blinked and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said faintly, his brow still furrowed. “Sorry, I just — I can’t remember the word.”
“What word?” Carisi asked, his frown deepening.
Barba waved an almost agitated hand, his eyes flickering throughout the room as if some object in his office would help him figure it out. “The — the Latin term for intent to harm. I can’t remember what it is.”
Carisi reached out to close his hand around Barba’s wrist, stilling his frantic movement. “Hey,” he said softly, and when Barba didn’t look at him, a little more forcefully, “Hey. Look at me.” Barba glanced over at him and Carisi reached out with his other hand to cup Barba’s cheek. “Are you ok?”
“Other than the fact that I can’t think of the most basic legal term, sure, I’m peachy,” Barba snapped, but without any real heat, leaning into Carisi’s touch without relaxing.
Carisi rubbed his thumb against Barba’s cheek. “It’s animus nocendi,” he told him. “And it’s not a big deal. I forget shit all the time. My ma says I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”
Barba scowled and pushed Carisi’s hand away. “It may not be a big deal to you—” he started, but Carisi cut him off.
“I swear to God, Rafi, if there’s a Fordham Law joke coming…”
He trailed off ominously, and for a brief moment, Barba’s face softened. “For once, no, that’s not where I was going with this.” He paused, something darkening in his expression. “But no, I...I actually think this may be more serious than jokes about your choice of law school.”
“What do you mean?” Carisi asked, concern coloring the edge of his voice.
Barba shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It’s just...this isn’t the first time that I’ve forgotten something. Especially recently.”
Carisi rolled his eyes as he told Barba impatiently, “Like I already said, that’s not such a big deal—”
“I forgot you.”
Carisi stared blankly at him. “What—” he started, his voice coming out a croak, and he took a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”
Barba took a deep breath. “When you came into my office earlier, it wasn’t my eyesight that was the problem,” he said softly. “I looked up and I saw you and...and I had no idea who you were.” He paused like he was waiting for Carisi to say something, but Carisi just sat in stunned silence, staring at him. “I recognized your shield and knew you were a detective, but nothing about you was familiar to me until you spoke and it all came rushing back. And earlier this week, in court, I couldn’t find a note that I had made during the defense’s examination. I knew that I had written something down but nothing in my notes made any sense to me.”
“That’s, uh—” Carisi shrugged helplessly. “I mean, that’s not good, Rafi, but—”
“It’s not just that.” Barba’s voice was flat and he avoided looking at Carisi as he told him, “I’ve been — misplacing things. Forgetting people’s names that I’ve met recently. But this is…” He finally met Carisi’s eyes. “This is the first time I’ve forgotten you. I’m just worried it won't be the last.” After a long moment, he huffed a sigh before asking Carisi, his voice strained, “Have you noticed…?”
He trailed off like he couldn’t bear to finish the question, and Carisi shook his head firmly. “No, of course not. I mean, have you misplaced a few things around the apartment? Sure. But you’ve also been under an incredible amount of stress recently, and I’m sure it’s fine.” He grabbed Barba’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure you’re fine.”
“But what if I’m not?”
Barba said the words in a soft voice that sounded completely foreign to Carisi, who reached out to cradle Barba’s face in both of his hands. “Then we cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, still firm. “And in the meantime, I’m taking my husband home because you clearly need rest. And don’t bother arguing with me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Barba said numbly, watching as Carisi gathered up their Chinese containers and threw them in the trash. “I love you, you know.”
Carisi stilled. “Don’t say it like that,” he ordered, and when Barba just looked at him, he elaborated, “Like it’s some kind of goodbye.” He took Barba’s hand and twisted their fingers together so that he could rub his thumb against Barba’s wedding ring. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Barba lifted their clasped hands to his lips so that he could kiss Carisi’s knuckles. “I believe you.”
Barba wasn’t fine.
It took numerous tests and exams over the next several months, but even though Barba’s memory continued to get worse while they waited, when they finally got the diagnosis, it hit Barba and Carisi like a ton of bricks, those four words that would forever alter the course of their lives.
“Autosomal dominant Alzheimer’s disease,” was the doctor’s conclusion, after the genetic panel came back positive. “I’m surprised you don’t have any family history.”
Barba’s expression was particularly dark. “My father died young, and his father before him,” he said, as an explanation or excuse. “Either of them may have had it and we just didn’t…”
He trailed off and the doctor nodded. “It’s not uncommon for it to go undiagnosed, especially before we knew about the genetic component,” she said.
That was the end of that conversation, as if the doctor was satisfied with that, as if she had no other need to search for a cause. But the cause was all that Barba could focus on, as the doctor handed Carisi pamphlets and brochures and turned instead to prognosis and the fact that Barba had at most ten years left.
Because he desperately needed someone or something to blame.
It wasn’t until later, when they were back at their apartment, after Carisi had made spaghetti and meatballs just to have something to do with his hands, after neither had been able to eat and both were slumped on the couch in silence, that Barba finally straightened, looked Carisi in the eyes and said, perfectly calm, “We should get a divorce.”
Carisi stared at him. “What?”
“It’s just practical.” There was no emotion in Barba’s voice or expression, and he looked as if he was discussing something as simple as filing a motion in court. “In five years’ time, I most likely won’t remember you, and in ten years, I’ll be dead. You, on the other hand, you’re only forty-two years old, you’ve got time to find someone else.”
“Are you…” Carisi hesitated, trying to gauge Barba’s mood. “Are you kidding?”
Barba rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he said shortly. “There is no reason for you to stay married to me, not when you have options.”
“Options?” Carisi repeated, incredulous. “What the — Rafael, what are you talking about?”
Barba shrugged. “If it’s money you’re concerned about, I will make sure that our divorce is an equitable split. You’d lose access to my life insurance payout when I die, but all of my stocks and bonds will still transfer to you.”
Carisi shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of Barba’s mouth. “You think this is about money?” he asked, tears pricking in his eyes. “Rafi, I’m not leaving you. I love you.” Barba rolled his eyes again and Carisi grabbed his arm, anguish clear in his expression. “Don’t you fucking roll your eyes at that,” he all but snarled. “God damn it, our wedding vows were ‘in sickness and in health’, not ‘in sickness unless one of us gets diagnosed with a debilitating disease.’ There’s no exception clause there, Counselor.” When Barba didn’t say anything to that, Carisi slowly slid his hand up Barba’s arm until he was resting it flatly against Barba’s chest. “I love you. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“You should,” Barba said, his voice cracking. “Now, while you still can.”
“I think we both know that I can’t,” Carisi told him flatly. “Until death do us part — I take that promise seriously.”
Barba shook his head. “That promise is a lot easier to make when death is an abstract concept.”
Carisi heaved a sigh. “With our lines of work, what the hell makes you think that death was ever an abstract concept?” he asked, searching Barba’s expression for some kind of answer or validation. “Even if I knew then what I know now, I’d make that promise again in a heartbeat. I love you.”
Something flickered in Barba’s expression and he reached out to rest a hand against Carisi’s cheek. “I just don’t want to forget you,” he whispered, and Carisi closed his eyes, his expression pained. “And I hate most of all the thought of having to put you through watching me forget you.”
Carisi’s face crumpled and he surged forward to kiss Barba, his kiss desperate and forceful, and Barba matched him, holding onto Carisi as if he would never let go. Both men were crying, their tears mingling together as they kissed, and they stayed that way for a long time, wrapped up in each other and sharing their grief.
Then Carisi kissed Barba once more, his tears long since dried. “I’ll remember for the both of us,” he promised fiercely.
And as much as Barba might have wanted to tell him that it didn’t really work like that, he settled for nodding and resting his head against his husband’s chest and pretending, for just a moment, that they could stay this way forever.
The next several weeks were filled with doctor’s appointments as Barba visited every specialist in the city. When the specialists all made it clear that his disease had progressed past the point where there was much hope at delaying it, Barba filled the DA’s office in on his condition and quietly took the very generous offer of early retirement. “I had to,” he told Carisi that night over dinner, his voice heavy with resignation. “I can’t do my job anymore, not when I can’t even remember basic case law. And I’m not going to put justice for victims in jeopardy for the sake of my own pride.”
Carisi nodded, his shoulders hunched, knowing how much it had to hurt Barba to struggle with something that used to be as natural to him as breathing. “I’m gonna talk to Liv,” he said quietly. “Take some time off.”
“I didn’t think you had that much time saved up,” Barba said, his voice mild.
Carisi just shrugged. “I’ll make it work,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “After all, as you keep pointing out, with your pension, it’s not like we’ll be hurting for money. Besides—” He reached out and grabbed Barba’s hand, squeezing it gently. “—I don’t want to miss spending time with you for work.”
Barba didn’t say anything to that, just pulling Carisi to him and kissing him.
Which was how Carisi found himself seated across from Olivia in her office a few days later. Olivia sighed and searched Carisi’s expression for a moment before telling him, “I can’t pretend I wasn’t expecting this, though I was hoping we still had some time before it came to this.”
Carisi shrugged. “You and me both,” he said, with a sad sort of half-smile.
Olivia didn’t smile. “You have a couple of options, and you should really discuss them with your association rep, since they would know best what you’re covered by and not. But FMLA should allow you to take an extended leave of absence as a caregiver, and you know that on our end, your job will always be here waiting for you.”
Carisi managed a genuine smile at that. “Thanks, Lieu,” he said softly. “That really does mean a lot.”
He stood and Olivia followed suit, her expression serious as she asked, “Are you sure that you want to do this?”
“Absolutely,” Carisi said without hesitation. “I mean, I hate leaving you short-staffed, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t spend every moment that I could with my husband.”
Olivia smiled softly. “Who would’ve thought when a Staten Island cop with the worst mustache I’ve ever seen walked in here all those years ago that it’d be me asking him to stay and not the other way around?”
Carisi laughed. “I knew I’d wear you down eventually,” he said easily. “Only took me, what, ten years?”
“It took far less than that,” Olivia told him honestly.
Carisi ducked his head at the implied compliment, and busied himself with unclipping his badge and his gun holster from his belt. “Here—” he said, a little gruffly, holding them out to Olivia. “Before I forget.”
Something flickered in Olivia’s expression. “Sonny—” she started, but was interrupted by Carisi’s phone ringing.
“Hang on,” Carisi said, setting his gun and badge down on Olivia’s desk and digging in his pocket for his cell phone. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” Rather needlessly, he mouthed ‘It’s Barba’ at Olivia, who rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Carisi’s smile, however, was rapidly disappearing, and he put speakerphone on so that Olivia could hear the near-panic in Barba’s voice. “I was just going to the bodega one street over, since you know I like their coffee better and — I think I’m lost.”
Barba sounded so small that Olivia didn’t even know what to say, her eyes meeting Carisi’s, and she watched as Carisi took a deep, steadying breath before telling Barba with forced ease, “Well, geez, Rafi, if you had waited twenty minutes, I coulda brought you coffee. But listen, can you try and find a corner with a street sign? I’ll come get you.”
After a long moment, Barba rattled off an intersection, and Carisi’s forehead creased. “Rafael, that’s like two minutes from our place,” he said, his voice cracking. “You don’t know how to get home?”
“I don’t—” Barba broke off, sounding frustrated, and more than a little scared. “I don’t remember where we live.”
Olivia closed her eyes briefly, her expression pained, but Carisi didn’t hesitate. “Well, that’s ok,” he said bracingly. “I do. So listen, you sit tight, don’t go anywhere, and I’ll come pick you up, ok? Maybe even take you out for lunch — but you’re paying.”
There was something of a smile in Barba’s voice when he replied, “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to—”
He was suddenly cut off by the sound of screeching tires and a sickening thud and Carisi grabbed his phone, turning it off speaker. “Rafael?” he asked, panic rising in his voice. “Rafael?!”
There was no answer.
Olivia didn’t hesitate, grabbing her phone and dialing dispatch. “I need a bus at the corner of 71st and Lexington, possible officer down,” she barked before telling Carisi, “Go. Meet him at the hospital. I’ll tell them to take him to New York Pres.”
“Thanks, Lieu.” Carisi practically sprinted from the precinct as Olivia sank into her chair, still on the phone with dispatch.
Her eyes locked on the badge and gun that Carisi had left behind and she took a deep breath before asking, “What’s the ETA on that bus?”
Carisi likely broke several hundred traffic laws to get to New York Presbyterian Hospital in record time, but he didn’t care, consumed by the sole, overwhelming need to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. The last vestiges of luck were on his side, since he squealed into the emergency room parking lot just as the EMTs were unloading Barba from the ambulance.
Carisi’s mouth went dry when he saw blood. A lot of blood.
“Rafael!” he shouted, sprinting across the parking lot to his husband’s side, ignoring the EMT who tried to hold him back. “My name is Dominick Carisi Jr., I’m a detective with the NYPD, and that’s my husband.”
Clearly deeming it a lost cause, the EMT stepped back and allowed Carisi to surge forward, grabbing Barba’s hand. “Rafi—” he started, his voice breaking.
Barba blinked up at him. “Sonny,” he breathed, and even though his face was a mess, Carisi couldn’t miss the way that Barba tried to give him the special smile he saved for him. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” Carisi said impatiently. “I—”
The hospital staff bustled over, interrupting him. “What’ve we got?” a doctor asked.
“Pedestrian in a hit and run,” the EMT reported. “Multiple fractures and contusions, collapsed lung, internal bleeding. He’s been in and out of consciousness and—” She broke off and shot Carisi a look, lowering her voice as if he wouldn’t hear her. “We lost him once on the ride over.”
Carisi froze. “Alright,” the doctor said, her voice crisp. “We need to get him up to surgery immediately. You’re the husband?” Carisi blinked at her and just managed to nod. “You’ll have to stay here. We’ll let you know as soon as there’s news.”
She nodded at the other doctors and nurses and they started to move the gurney inside, but Carisi stopped them, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest. “Wait!” he blurted, and the doctor shot him an irritated look. “Please, just — just give me a minute.”
“Sir, your husband may not have a minute—” she started, but another doctor grabbed her arm and whispered something. Carisi knew that it couldn’t be good news, since the doctor took a deep breath before telling him in a much gentler voice, “Say what you need to say, but make it quick.”
Carisi nodded and looked back down at Barba, who was still looking up at him. “Hey,” Barba breathed, his fingers flexing weakly in Carisi’s hand. “Don’t look so sad, sunshine.”
Shaking his head, Carisi blinked back tears. “You told me you would never call me that again, that it was too cheesy even for us,” he said, his voice thick. “Rafael—”
“Shh,” Barba said, and there was that smile again, even as his eyelids fluttered like he could barely keep his eyes open. “It’s better this way.”
“Better?” Carisi repeated. “It’s not—”
“Now you don’t have to watch me die.” It was the strongest Barba’s voice had been, and Carisi shook his head desperately, but Barba didn’t let him interrupt. “And now I won’t forget you.”
The tears were running freely down Carisi’s cheeks, and he told Barba brokenly, “Don’t say that, don’t — Rafi, I love you, I love you and you’re gonna be fine, ok? You’re gonna be fine!”
Barba’s eyes closed and he murmured something unintelligible before suddenly going very, very still. “He’s in V-fib!” a nurse called, and the doctor pulled Carisi away, telling him urgently, “I’m sorry, sir, but we have to take him if there’s any chance of saving his life.”
The doctors and nurses whisked Barba away on the gurney, taking him at a near run into the emergency room and leaving Carisi standing there, staring blankly after him, his heart torn to pieces.
Olivia rushed into the emergency room waiting room, Rollins hot on her heels, and she looked wildly around before she saw Carisi sitting with his head bowed. “Sonny,” she said, a little relieved, but her words died in her mouth as Carisi slowly stood, his expression dull and blank.
“He, uh, he—” Carisi broke off, swallowing hard, and he couldn’t seem to meet Olivia or Amanda’s eyes. “The doctor said they did everything they could, but, uh, Rafael didn’t...he didn’t…”
He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence and Olivia sank into a seat, frozen with shock. Amanda crossed to Carisi and enveloped him in a hug. “I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Sonny.”
Carisi swallowed, hard. “We were supposed to have years still,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Years to make plans and arrangements and to figure out how...how to say goodbye. Years just to be together and love each other and—”
He broke off, unable to continue, and Rollins said nothing, only holding Carisi as tightly as she could while he sobbed.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, as Lucia Barba and all the assorted Carisi relatives arrived at the hospital, needing to be told, needing to be consoled. Rollins did her best to keep them contained for Carisi’s sake, and Olivia sat with Carisi, holding his hand, sharing in his silent, overwhelming grief.
Carisi had lost the love of his life, and while Olivia couldn’t fully grasp what that must feel like, she had just lost one of her closest friends, and the reality of that hadn’t really sank in yet.
Eventually, Olivia squeezed Carisi’s hand. “Sonny, you need to get some rest,” she said softly. “You should go home.”
Carisi looked up at her, startled, and his eyes welled with even more tears. Olivia didn’t know how he could possibly have more tears when she felt like she had already cried more than she even knew was possible. “I can’t,” Carisi said, something like panic in his voice. “I can’t go home, I can’t — not without him.”
“Then go back to the precinct,” Olivia suggested. “You can sleep on the couch in my office, but Carisi, you have to sleep.”
For a moment, it looked like Carisi might argue, but whatever fight was left in him disappeared back into his numbness, and after a moment, he nodded and stood. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.”
Olivia stood as well. “Do you want me or Amanda to give you a ride back to the precinct?” she asked.
“Nah, Liv, I’ll be fine,” Carisi said, though the words were hollow. “I want to drive — clear my head.”
Privately, Olivia assumed that Carisi just wanted to be alone, and in her own, numb way, she couldn’t blame him. “Alright, but let one of us know if we need anything, ok?”
Carisi just nodded silently and drifted towards the door, not even pausing when Amanda and his sisters called out to him. Olivia took a deep breath and sat back down, unsurprised when Amanda moved to take Carisi’s vacated seat. “Lieu, you should go home, too,” Amanda said quietly. “I know Barba — I know you two were close.”
“We were,” Olivia said, equally quiet. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. Even after his diagnosis…”
She trailed off, but Amanda nodded, understanding, and she reached out tentatively to squeeze Olivia’s hand. “I know,” she said. “None of us could have expected this. But you don’t have to stay. I know we’re waiting on the local precinct to finish getting what they need from — from the body, but I can take care of that.”
Olivia glanced around. “Where did Lucia go?” she asked.
“I think she — I think the doctor said that since she’s his mother, she could go be with him.”
Nodding slowly, Olivia looked back at Amanda and squeezed her hand in return. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “Not until we know that the local precinct has gotten what they need to nail the driver that did this to him.” That thought allowed Olivia to refocus, to bring the details of the hit-and-run to mind instead of dwelling on the result. “Where are we at with the APB on the car?”
If Rollins was surprised by the sudden pivot, she didn’t show it. “Local precinct has a couple witnesses who corroborated the make and model. Only one saw a license plate, and they weren’t too convinced that they remembered it correctly, but make and model is a start. Transit’s got a BOLO out at all the bridges, tunnels and ferries, so if they leave Manhattan, we’ll find ‘em. And in the meantime—”
Olivia stopped listening, letting Amanda’s voice wash over her in meaningless waves. Eventually, Rollins realized that Olivia had stopped paying attention, but she didn’t seem hurt, merely squeezing Olivia’s hand again and sitting with her in silence for a long while.
Abruptly, Olivia checked her watch and ran a tired hand over her face. “I should call Fin,” she said. “Make sure that everything’s going well back at the precinct.”
“And check up on Carisi,” Amanda said, nodding.
Olivia shot her a grateful look for understanding, and quickly dialed Fin’s cell. “Hey, Fin,” she said, standing and stretching for the first time in what felt like hours. “How are things going?”
“As well as can be expected,” Fin reported. “It’s been quiet here, at least.”
“How’s Carisi?”
Fin was silent for a moment. “Isn’t he back at the hospital?” he asked.
Olivia looked around automatically, even though she knew damn well that Carisi hadn’t come back. “He’s supposed to be sleeping in my office,” she said. “When did he leave?”
“He didn’t stay at all,” Fin said, sounding a little surprised. “He came in, grabbed his gun and badge and told me that he was going to swing back by the hospital before going home.”
Olivia shook her head slowly. “Home?” she repeated. “That doesn’t make any sense. He said that he didn’t want to go back there, not without—” She broke off, unable to say Barba’s name, and instead focused on what else Fin had said. “He took his gun?”
Amanda’s eyes snapped up to hers, concern clear on her face, and Olivia couldn’t stop the fear that crept through her even as Fin reasoned, “He probably changed his mind and decided to go home anyway. He looked exhausted, Liv, and he’s in shock, he’s grieving.” When Olivia didn’t say something, unwilling to voice the worst thoughts running through her mind, Fin asked, “You don’t really think he’d—?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said bluntly. “But send a uni over to his apartment to check. And if he’s not there…” She hesitated. “If he’s not there, put out an APB. Armed and potentially dangerous.”
“Will do,” Fin said without argument, and Olivia hung up and turned, already aware of Rollins was going to say and feeling too tired and defeated to deal with it.
“Armed and dangerous?” Amanda repeated, staring at Olivia, wide-eyed and pale. “C’mon, Liv—”
Olivia shook her head. “Carisi’s not thinking clearly and he went back to the precinct to get his gun,” she said flatly. “Until I know he’s safe, I want to make sure that everyone who can be is looking for him.”
“Sonny would never hurt anyone,” Rollins argued hotly. “Never. I don’t care what happened with Barba, he’s not gonna hunt down the driver and kill him or—”
Olivia cut her off. “I’m not worried about him hurting someone else,” she said softly, and when Amanda just stared at her, she elaborated, “I’m worried about what he might do to himself.”