Chapter Text
*
“For unto us a child is born,
To us a son is given.
And the government will be upon his shoulder;
and his name will be called
“Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6)
*
December 24, 2015
“Liv really sent you over here to deliver case files on Christmas Eve,” Amanda Rollins asks, rolling her eyes but stepping aside to usher Dominick Carisi just inside the doorway of her tiny apartment with a quiet smile anyway.
“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t exactly a hard sell,” he offers shyly, setting a small stack of folders on the table near the door before shrugging off his wool scarf and black peacoat.
He’d given in easily to Liv’s suggestion, despite the fact that he’d had plans to be on Staten Island and the traffic would undoubtedly be a nightmare the longer he waited to make his way across the city.
“Mind if I stay a minute,” he asks, reluctantly hanging his coat on a hook near the door.
She can't help but wonder if he thinks maybe he’s overstepped by being here. She has no way of knowing he’s not only a dutiful coworker and a concerned friend, but also a man who has recently realized certain feelings he harbors for the woman before him.
“I mean unless you have something—I can go,” Carisi stutters in afterthought.
He lets a heavy breath escape his lips as he backpedals, motioning hesitantly toward the door. He stops just shy of reaching for the door handle. Instead, he shuffles his weight back and forth between his feet and wrings his hands as he waits awkwardly for her to invite him fully into her space or ask him to go.
Rollins watches him closely, keying in on his nervous mannerisms, but does not offer the certainty of a reply. Instead, she studies his handsome features, contorted in a way that conveys both a certain uneasiness and an air of hope she can’t quite make sense of.
If she didn’t know better she’d think he was somehow unsure about being here.
They’re partners and it’s not the first time since Jesse was born that he’s been by. But it is, she realizes, the first he’s been without Fin or Liv at his side.
Even when she’d extended the invite and they’d met for a friendly lunch just days ago, they’d remained in neutral territory. She’d pondered briefly about inviting him up after he’d bounced her sweet baby girl at his knees as they walked the pavement, but she’d been surprised by and uneasy in her feelings then, too. She’d erred on the side of caution and they’d said their quick goodbyes—a loose hug between partners and a sweet kiss to a bundled up Jesse’s forehead on the cold sidewalk instead.
Surely, she wasn’t ready to unpack the new but true fact that her stomach bubbled with nervous excitement when he was around as of late. Those thoughts had gone unchecked and unspoken.
“Jess is sleeping,” she explains when she finally finds her voice. It comes out much more professional and less welcoming than she intends and she cringes internally at her awkwardness.
“We can go over the files ‘til she’s up,” Rollins suggests, somewhat hesitant and unsure if she should even be extending the invite. “That is—if you want to stay and see her.”
He clears his throat and tips his chin towards the tote bags he’d set down in the hallway when he’d come in.
She can see what looks to be food in one and brightly wrapped gifts in the other. It melts her a little more than it should, knowing he’d come with more than just the intention of dropping paperwork.
Her entire demeanor softens.
“I'm guessing Sgt. Benson doesn't really need input on any of this ‘til after the New Year,” she laughs, and finally snaps out of her awkwardness long enough to fully usher him into her modest home.
Carisi nods sheepishly—he knows it was a weak cover at best. Liv had been funneling Rollins case files since almost immediately after her and Jesse were discharged from the hospital—an unspoken agreement amongst the squad that an extra set of eyes on a case file or two meant an easy, unassuming opportunity for someone to check in on the new mom and baby without being too overly intrusive.
But this was something more.
“She doesn’t,” he nods, quietly confessing his real reason for being here on Christmas Eve. “I brought you dinner.”
Rollins steps back and watches as Carisi quickly busies himself unpacking the bags he’d brought with him. He sets an oversized tray of pasta and two tins of what she guesses are his mother’s cannoli and other Italian Christmas desserts on the kitchen counter.
“I bought myself a Stouffer’s at the corner store. A box of Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes, too. You should be jealous,” she laughs—embarrassed of her own lack of real holiday preparation. “Pairs well with wine and lonely late night feedings.”
He crinkles his nose in mock horror and she can’t help but feel a bit dejected by his reaction. Though he doesn't tease her outwardly for her choices, she knows how she lives is not up to his standards.
“What? It’s not like we’re doing anything big for Christmas,” she justifies.
He doesn’t judge, though she finds she’s blushing with embarrassment anyway.
“And gifts, too? Carisi, you really shouldn’t have.”
She hangs her head low as he places several small wrapped parcels proudly on the counter. “We didn’t get you anything.”
He blushes, embarrassed by his own thoughtfulness—as if it shows a card he wasn’t quite yet ready to reveal.
“You’ve been busy, momma. And I don't do any of this with expectations of anything in return,” he says with ease, instantly calming her nerves.
Rollins can’t help but notice that Carisi’s been different around her lately—softer somehow. Less abrasive and more endearing.
She wonders if it’s her new motherhood status that has him walking on eggshells or if he is just out of sorts from missing having her by his side at work. She hopes it’s not that he thinks she’s not hacking it all well enough on her own.
She doesn’t stop to ponder that just maybe she’s seeing him in a new light.
“I did get a tree for Jesse,” she says, still feeling a
need to justify the simplicity of her holiday plans, to herself as much as to him.
Her biggest hope now that she has Jesse is that she even comes close to measuring up as a decent mom. All she wants—so desperately—is to be good enough to make up for her own bitter, broken childhood and her daughter’s undeserving, absent father.
Rollins motions toward a two foot tabletop evergreen with a simple skirt and clear twinkling lights that sits atop an end table in the corner, proudly. “First I've had since I've been in New York.”
It wasn’t much, but she was trying.
“No ornaments yet,” she says before Carisi can ask.
“I bought a box,” she adds dejectedly and he can instantly sense the sadness in her voice.
She rifles quickly through a pile of packages that sits on the floor with an exasperated sigh. “I just haven't managed to get them out yet, ya know, with the baby and all,” she explains.
As if on cue, Jesse begins to wail from the bedroom. Rollins quickly abandons the ornaments with Carisi and hurries to her daughter’s side in the back bedroom.
She returns just minutes later with a freshly diapered baby in her arms and a burp rag over her shoulder to find Carisi absentmindedly humming Christmas carols.
She watches him silently for a minute from the doorway as he arranges a colorful array of baubles in her tiny tree by the glow of the twinkling lights.
“Jesse really is too little to know the difference, ya know,” she jumps back in, quick to justify her lack of decorations or a real holiday meal. “Next year, I’ll be better.”
“Rollins,” he interjects. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Your plans are perfect. I just wanted to lend a hand—gift you some extra holiday cheer.”
“I get it, Carisi,” she says softly, allowing him to step into her and fuss with the pink blanket Jesse is somewhat haphazardly swaddled in.
She grabs an ornament and watches as Carisi leans in and caresses Jesse’s cheek. He is soft and careful, and the motion elicits a tiny coo from the baby. She can’t help but smile back at him.
“Thanks for being so good to us, Uncle Sonny,” Rollins says in her best baby voice, waving Jesse’s tiny hand up at him.
Carisi falters for a moment—he’s been an Uncle since the day Mia was born—but the moniker now carries a different weight. It’s a title that’s apparently been earned by more than just birthright.
“Uncle Sonny’s here,” he says, testing out the name for the first time in relation to his partner’s tiny daughter. It feels foreign on his tongue but he isn’t about to complain.
Rollins doesn’t trust just anyone, and yet somehow, here he is, somehow earning a place in her little girl’s life.
Carisi offers her the box of ornaments with outstretched hands and, with Jesse still bundled in her arms, she attempts to hang a pink glittered ball on the tree.
“Let me,” he offers, brushing the top of her hand with his as he helps the ornament land safely on a branch. “You’ve got your hands full.”
They stop moving and their hands rest together for an extra lingering second. They stand, ever so briefly—just the three of them—in front of Jesse’s tiny first Christmas tree.
“It's what friends do.”
It comes out as a whisper, though his breath is so close to her ear that it sends a shiver down her spine.
Their eyes meet and hold fast as the seconds pass. Rollins can’t help but think that maybe in some ways this could all be so easy.
Instead of closing the gap though, they stand transfixed, with just the glowing lights of the Christmas tree and baby Jesse between them.
“Carisi,” she whispers, placing her hand on his chest and stepping bravely into him as she weighs her options.
He leans in closer still and for the briefest of moments she thinks she might be just brave enough to close the distance—and then—they don’t.
Instead, they are interrupted by the ringing of Carisi’s cellphone in his pocket
“I–uh,” he stammers, his face turning beet red as he steps quickly back out of her and Jesse’s space. She turns her head, embarrassed—as if she realizes just how dangerous close they’d been to things changing—to messing this all up.
“My sister,” he mouths, though Rollins barely notices through her flustered relief.
“Bella, what’s up,” he asks, putting the phone quickly to his ear. Figuring she’s just being impatient, he quickly offers, “I’ll be on the road within the hour, plenty of time before—”
He gets cut off and Rollins notes how quick the look on his face changes, smile giving way to a sudden look of disappointment.
“Oh no. Bells, I’m sorry,” he apologizes into the phone and then lips another gentle, “sorry,” at Rollins who can suddenly only look on in worry.
“It’s ok, go. Go,” Rollins sighs quietly. “I should have known you had plans tonight anyway.”
Rollins reaches for the soft hair on her daughter’s head, stroking it tenderly. She’s grateful, not for the first time since her daughter was born, that having Jesse means she no longer ever has to be completely alone.
“I’ll call from the road. Let mom know I won’t be long,” she hears Carisi say. “Love you too, Bell.”
“Everythin’ okay,” Rollins asks when he finally disconnects the phone with a heavy sigh.
“I guess,” he shrugs. His reply is quick but Rollins can tell he doesn’t mean it.
“Bella says the baby has a fever. She doesn’t think they will make it to midnight mass.”
Rollins frowns, knowing just how difficult is is when your baby is sick.
“It’s probably nothing to worry about,” he explains in response to Rollins’ worried face. “She’s been trying to cut a tooth for about a week now, but it’s not going well and she’s barely slept or stopped crying all afternoon. Bella being overtired too probably isn't helping the situation.”
“Things I have to look forward to,” Rollins grimaces, remembering that Carisi’s niece is only a few months older than Jesse.
“That’s not the worst of it. Ma is in an absolute panic,” he adds.
Rollins quirks her eyebrow in question.
“Did you know,” he asks, his hands suddenly flailing and his Staten Island accent coming out extra strong. “A Carisi baby has played Jesus at the midnight mass at St. Paul’s almost ev’ry Christmas since 1975.”
Rollins stops, slack-jawed.
“For real,” she asks, unable to grasp the depth and meaning of the tradition, though she can tell by the nostalgic look on his face that it is, in fact, a true story.
“Teresa first. A couple of cousins before me,” Carisi admits, biting his lip. “Gina after that. Bella never got to,” he frowns.
Jesse begins to fuss, and without thought, he lifts her from her mother’s arms, and begins pacing with worry, bouncing Jess at the knee.
“There was a baby boom in 1984,” he explains as he moves back and forth across the room. “Bella had a lot of competition and ma said she was too colicky—too cranky to be in front of the entire congregation.”
“Every Carisi on the Island and the other four boroughs really is related and we all come home for Christmas,” he chuckles.
“That’s a lot of babies, Carisi,” she laughs, imagining a whole gaggle of Carisi infants being paraded before the church. “Really, one every year?”
“Mostly, yeah, he says, nodding his head. “Every now and then it’s the same baby two years in a row. Pretty sure Gina did it as a newborn and again a year later.”
He smiles at Rollins’ face, knowing the accuracy at which she’s picturing a costumed Virgin Mary trying to keep a flailing 14 month old swaddled like a newborn during the middle of a church service.
“Jesus was a big baby,” Carisi shrugged with a laugh. “It’s tradition after all.” His face falls though as he remembers the current predicament.
It’s been a thing the last few years—his mother’s incessant reminders at how disappointing it is, her lack of grandchildren, given the fact that she’s raised four beautiful, Catholic children of her own.
“Even your dad’s youngest brother already has 4 grandkids,” he says, mocking Serafina’s heavy Staten Island lilted disappointment.
“Kinda like the rest of the world, even us Catholic Carisis just aren’t having as many babies as we used to. Our whole generation—not as many kids and definitely not as much involvement in the church.”
Carisi stops cradling Jesse long enough to text back and forth with Bella.
“Of course I’ve the biggest disappointment of all,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Any luck,” Rollins asks, biting her lip.
“She thinks old Mrs. Russo from down the block has a new grand-nephew that could probably fill in if Ma can track them down. Maybe,” he sighs as he sets his phone aside, and continues bouncing Jesse.
“Carisi, wait,” she finally says as she watches the two pace back and forth. There is a way she can repay him for everything he’s done for her.
He stops and looks over at her. Despite the swaddled baby in his arms he is confused.
She laughs without offering up her suggestion and he scratches his head, perplexed.
“Funny enough,” she finally smiles, pointing toward Jesse in his arms. “I just happen to have a baby and no Christmas eve plans—”
He looks over at her surprised and shakes his head. “Rollins, no.” That’s not something he could impose on or ask of her.
She looks back at him with a shrug. “I’m offering. It's no big deal.”
“Besides,” she adds, with a conviction that echoes their earlier conversation about him coming by with gifts and food.
“It's what friends do.”
*