Chapter Text
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Come on, Ali. He was trying to perform CPR but he was distracted by the pair of arms pulling him away from behind.
“Tess..? Oh, Tess!”
Why did the voice sound eerily like Billie’s?
“I’m sorry.”
1, 2, 3, 4…Come on, Ali.
“I’m sorry.”
The phantom arms tugged at him again from behind, but he couldn’t leave Ali.
“I’m sorry.”
The arms yanked him up this time- almost violently- in protest at having been ignored. He turned around, ready to fight them off, but he suddenly found himself in the fridge instead.
“I’m sorry.”
It was his own voice this time, only it wasn’t Ali or Tess in front of him.
No.
Jesse?!
His own voice echoed in his head.
“Take everything.”
“Your wedding ring.”
He looked behind him towards the male voice giving the command and was surprised to see the person standing in front of him. What was Benson doing here?
“You’re not my boss anymore.”
He turned to face Jesse again but then he wasn’t in the fridge anymore, and neither was Benson. He was kneeling in the front of the store- in front of the counter again, performing CPR on-
“I’m sorry.”
“Come on Al- No!”
“Amanda?!”
What? No. No. No.
“No, no. Amanda…Nooo…”
“Sonny?! Sonny! Wake up, hey, hey wake up.”
He sat up with a jolt, vaguely aware of only the tail end of the agonized moan as it left his mouth. He looked to his right, at the familiar blue eyes staring hauntingly into his own- at the pained expression frozen in hers- telling him all he needed to know about how strongly he had believed his nightmare was still real. But it wasn’t- she was here, in bed, with him. She was safe, wearing one of his old blue, threadbare shirts, wrapped up in their sheets and not in the deli, in Ali’s place, her face superimposed on his, bleeding out beneath him instead of the old man, like in his nightmare. It was her arms pulling at him, away from the arms in his nightmare, shaking him.
The only difference was that Ali’s nightmare was real. And it would never end now.
No sooner had he addressed his wife than he repeated his own nonsensical placation from mere hours ago.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no,” Rollins whispered. Clad in one of his threadbare white band t-shirts, she sat herself fully up beside him and reached with her right arm around him to rest her hand on his back. Her fingers traced slow, lazy feather-light circles, the same way she did when one of the kids had a nightmare, dotting his bare skin with pleasant goosebumps.
For a time, they were both quiet, with Carisi trying to find some semblance of comfort in the silence between them- in Amanda’s maternal touch on his back- until she broke the silence.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It was cliche- they both knew it was. But he knew that they both knew how that phrase had become cliche in the first place. He sighed evenly, and Rollins seemed to take it as an answer on its own.
“If you don’t you know it’s going to eat you alive.”
“‘Manda,” He whispered. He couldn’t bear for her to take this burden, but there was also that little nagging voice in his head, reminding him that this was no longer his partner at work, but his partner in life- that she would always be his partner in life- and if their situation had been reversed, he would want to know.
“‘Manda…I…it’s not fair to you, I…”
“Sonny?”
“In the dream…it wasn’t Ali. I mean, it was, at first, but…”
He turned his upper body, bare chest damp with cold perspiration, to his left so that he was facing her and he wished he hadn’t. Having to look at her was making this even harder. In reprieve, he looked away and down at his hands instead, where they rested on his knees with his palms outstretched as though showing a mock surrender of his emotions.
“It was you.”