Chapter Text
Amanda walked as quickly as she could to keep up with Liv’s unrelenting pace. More than once in this lifetime, she wished her legs were longer.
Liv approached the nurse’s desk, with Amanda right behind her. “Hi. Lieutenant Olivia Benson, SVU,” Liv introduced herself quickly, then motioned to Amanda. “Detective Amanda Rollins. We understand you have one of my detectives here? Dominick Carisi?”
An older nurse, making copies behind the desk, moved forward. “Lieutenant Benson? I’m Alisha Sanders, the one who called you.” She stepped out from behind the desk to join them. “I can take you to his room. It’s this way.”
They followed the nurse down the hallway. “It took us a few hours before we realized he was NYPD,” she explained. “Two men brought him in late last night and dumped him in the emergency room. You’d be surprised how often that happens, especially on weekends,” she added when Liv’s brow arched. “He had a driver’s license on him, but nothing else. One of our nurses recognized him, so we gave you a call.” They stopped in front of the partially open door of Room 619. Amanda could see Sonny’s long, slim body lying still in the hospital bed. He appeared to be asleep.
The nurse, Alisha, turned to face them. “It turns out we would’ve been calling you anyway,” she said quietly, “although I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have. Your detective had rectal bleeding, as well as bruising on the hips, thighs, and buttocks. One wrist is broken as are two of his ribs, and he has a concussion.”
Liv and Amanda looked at each other, stunned. “You called a SANE nurse, right?” Liv asked, then glanced at the body in the bed. “Is he unconscious?”
“No,” Alisha told her. “He’s conscious, but he isn’t responsive. And of course I called a SANE nurse, Lieutenant. However, typically, if Detective Carisi is unwilling to grant permission for a rape kit, you know as well as I do that we cannot order one.” She let out a long sigh. “Thank God our lead psychologist was in tonight. He did an evaluation on Detective Carisi and found him unable to consent, so we were able to move forward with the rape kit.”
“I don’t understand,” Amanda said. “He’s not answering your questions?”
The nurse looked at her. “No, I mean he hasn’t said one word since we got him up here. He’s not making eye contact. It’s like he’s…catatonic, maybe?” She sighed. “Our psychologist is going to visit him later today, again, to see if he can break through.”
“Is it all right if we go in now?” Liv asked, and Alisha nodded.
“Of course,” she replied. “Maybe you’ll have more luck, since you know him.”
**********
“Why’s he not sayin’ nuffin?” Jesse asked her mother, blue eyes wide with confusion.
Amanda sighed. “Well, we don’t really know,” she told the little girl as she bounced Billie in her lap. “His doctor says that he might want to talk more to people he loves, like you and Billie. But his doctor isn’t sure, though. It might be too hard for Uncle Sonny to talk to anyone right now.”
Jesse nodded, face somber, before turning and approaching the body in the bed.
Sonny looked nearly like his regular self, just reclined in a hospital bed. He was dressed in sweats and one of his rocker t-shirts. Amanda knew he had bunches of all different types of bands, and they were his favorite things to wear when he was off work. Today he had on his Beatles shirt. She could swear it was one that Barba gave him, back when they were together.
She wondered if anyone had told Barba what was going on.
Jesse was standing with her chest against the hospital bed, carefully observing her beloved “uncle”. His lovely blue eyes were open, just as though he were involved in their conversation. He blinked off and on, and occasionally, Amanda had caught him tracking objects around the room. She knew he was in there. He just had to be.
“Unca Sonnnyyy…Unca Sonnnyyy….” Jesse quietly sang his name close to his ear, but there was no response.
Turning around, Jesse sighed herself. “I’m sorry, Momma,” she told Amanda,” I weally twied, but he don’t wanna talk to me today.”
This was the first time she’d tried bringing the girls. They were running out of people to try, and they were running out of time. They had to be. It had already been thirty-two days, and nothing.
“It’s okay, baby,” Amanda told Jesse, giving her a smile. “We’ll try another day, okay?”
The little girl nodded, then turned back to Sonny and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Unca Sonny! We wuzhoo!”.
Following her daughter’s lead, Amanda leaned over and kissed the man’s cheek as well. “See you soon, Carisi,” she whispered.
She knew she’d see him soon. She had to.
*****
Hanging up from what seemed like his fortieth work call of the day, Rafael sighed.
Iowa had sounded like a great idea six months ago, when he’d been hiding out in Miami. He’d been trying to come to terms with himself and figure out who the hell he was when he’d unplugged Drew Householder’s life support. Miami was a world away from Manhattan, with its white sandy beaches, its Spring Break feel, its nonstop party all week long. And for awhile, the party had distracted him, helped him forget about what he’d done.
He’d been shocked when he’d gotten a phone call from an old friend from Harvard. She was working in Iowa with the political primaries, and wanted to know if he could help. Diane was also an old friend of Rita Calhoun’s, and he suspected that Rita had sent her his way. It didn’t matter though. He needed to leave Miami before his reckless living resulted in an early grave. So off to Iowa he went, ready to see what it held for him.
And he’d enjoyed it, to an extent. It felt good to be needed again, to have some structure in his life, to be recognized for his professional contributions. He started to date again, albeit casually, and found that these days, he enjoyed the company of women as well as men. He grew out his beard, lost a few pounds, and pierced his nipples–something he’d wanted to do since he was twenty-seven. And he adopted a cat from the local rescue. She was a beautiful little gray girl who was missing an ear. Nobody was really sure if she lost it in a fight or if she was born that way, but Rafael didn’t care. To him, she was perfect. He named her Catalina, after his beloved abuelita, but almost always called her Cati.
Most of his work was done from home, so he was grateful for the new company of his tiny companion. To be honest, he missed the hustle and bustle at One Hogan; he’d never worked from home before, and he had to remind himself to get out every day, to participate in the world. He had agreed to stay on and work until they didn’t need him anymore, but lately, he’d been wondering if that was the right decision. He missed New York and he missed his old squad. He missed the time he spent working next to Liv, but also the time spent having drinks after cases with everyone. He missed Fin’s dry sense of humor and Amanda’s quick wit and occasional sarcasm. And he missed Carmen, who’d been his right hand for so many years. Despite the fact the two remained text buddies, he still wished they could work again in the same office.
And then there’d been Carisi– Sonny– the one he missed the most. The colleague he’d allowed himself to get dangerous with, to break his own rules. It had started out as fantasies that developed after the man’s incessant need to throw one-L sound bytes in Rafael’s way. He envisioned responding to Sonny with his typical sharp wit, then following it up with an aggressive kiss. To the lips, to the neck–it didn’t matter. He’d kiss the man and watch as his eyes rolled back and his legs began to quiver, and by the time Rafael got to Sonny’s belt, the rest of the squad would have seen themselves out.
Apparently, he hadn’t been alone in his thoughts. Sonny had tossed out more commonly-known information one afternoon–Rafael couldn’t even remember now what it was–to which he’d quickly responded, “Booyah, Fordham Law!”. He’d barely gotten back to his office when the junior detective arrived. Didn’t even bother to knock, the little heathen. Just came in and shut the door behind him, and asked, “Why do you always do that?”
To which Rafael replied the best he was able: “Why do you think?”
That afternoon had been the start of a sexy affair. It was unlike any relationship Rafael had ever had. He had never intended for it to go farther than the bedroom, and for a short time, he was able to wrangle his heart into believing just that–that Sonny Carisi was there for one reason and one reason only: to satisfy his sexual urges. But within weeks, Rafael found himself thinking about how Sonny took his coffee so he could drop him off a cup; if Sonny’s lounge pants would be fine in the wash with his or if they had special instructions; if Sonny was comfortable enough in his bed to stay the night, because honestly, who slept well alone? They had fallen, deep and hard and fast, and despite the niggling feeling in his gut, he didn’t want it to end. In fact, he had never intended to leave that relationship. He’d fantasized about marriage, children, even old age.
But then the bottom fell out from under him, and overcome with fear and shame, he ran. He gave his lover a sorry excuse and an even sorrier apology, and he walked out of Sonny’s apartment, and–at least temporarily–out of Sonny’s life.
If he forced himself to think about it, he could still see the pain and betrayal etched in every single line of Sonny’s face.
He knew that Olivia missed him. She’d told him as much, said she was angry that he left. But she’d also said she understood why he needed to leave. Sonny had said nothing. Ever since the night after the trial, the night Rafael had told him goodbye, Sonny had been silent, effectively and efficiently shutting Rafael out of his world.
He understood that what he’d done had gone against everything his lover believed in, his entire moral code and structure, and it was unlikely they would ever recover from it as a couple. But if nothing else, maybe they could salvage a friendship? Over the following months, he had tried to explain, begged Sonny to listen, to understand, but there was never a reply. Sonny ignored the calls, the texts, even the email. He avoided Rafael at every possible crossroad.
After arriving in Iowa, he finally decided to let it rest. Rafael couldn’t bring himself to dwell on the loss any longer. It hurt too much, still, like a low burn in his gut that he just couldn’t put out. And even though it had been months, Sonny was still silent. It was as though he’d never existed in Rafael’s life; as though the entire affair had been just what it started as–a fantasy.
This afternoon had felt like he was putting out fire after fire, and he was done with it. Briefly, he considered skyping Liv again; he’d done that a week or so ago, and it had been such a bright conversation. She’d been one of his closest confidantes, and he missed having that. Pushing his chair back from his desk, he decided his work day was done and turned off the computer. As he did, his cell rang, startling him, and he picked it up, determined to let it go to voicemail if it was work.
He was stunned when he read the caller’s name– Amanda Rollins, SVU.
“Hello?” he answered, sliding his chair back up to his desk.
“Hey Rafael, it’s Amanda Rollins,” he heard. Her voice was quieter, her Southern accent clear as a bell. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute?”
The smile he’d been wearing upon initially hearing her voice dropped as he sensed there was something wrong. “Of course, Amanda…what’s going on?”
He heard her let out a shaky sigh. “It’s Sonny,” she began, and Rafael immediately felt his stomach roll into a knot. “He was assaulted. Two guys brought him in to the ER at Mercy and left him there, unconscious and bleeding. The hospital didn’t even know he was NYPD at first, until one of the nurses recognized him. He only had his driver’s license on him. Whoever did this beat the shit out of him–he’s got fractured ribs and a broken wrist, a concussion, and he’s covered with bruises…” He heard her trying unsuccessfully to steady her breath.
“It’s okay, Rollins,” he said gently. “Take your time. I’m here.”
She made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Rafael, they raped him.” She got the words out, and then began to cry.
Rafael was immediately overcome with shame and anger. His last image of Sonny flashed through his mind–the sadness, the hurt he’d caused the man–and he tried to bite back tears of his own. The way you treated him was nothing short of shameful, his conscience hissed as he tried to control the anger he felt at someone hurting Carisi. Clearing his throat, he forced out a question. “What’s he saying about it…what happened? Is he able to give you guys anything to work with?”
He could clearly hear her sniffling now, and he wished more than anything they were in the same room so he could comfort her. “That’s actually why I’m calling,” she replied, gaining control of her emotions. “He isn’t talking.”
Jesus. This just kept getting worse. “You think he was threatened?”
“No, Rafael…I mean, he literally is not talking. He isn’t speaking. Hasn’t said a word since they started treating him. He was unconscious at first, but the doctors said he came around after a few hours. Once he opened his eyes, he cooperated with their directives, but he isn’t speaking. The doctor I spoke with today said there’s absolutely no physical reason he can’t speak; there’s no damage to his mouth or his throat, and the concussion wasn’t severe enough to cause something like this. They think it must be psychological or something.” She paused, took another breath. “The head of psychology has seen him, twice a day since he got here, and he said that he thinks Sonny is traumatized from the attack. He suggested having the people who have meant the most to him visit, to see if that kind of opens him up. We’ve been doing that as much as we can–his whole family, the squad, even some of his law school friends have come by. I’ve even brought in Jesse and Billie, and nothing.” There was a brief pause, before she said, “Dr. Ray, the psychologist, asked if he’d had any meaningful relationships in the recent past. He thought a former lover might be helpful…which is why I’m calling you.”
He was silent, stunned; unsure of what to do. He’d go in a heartbeat if he truly thought he could fix it, but the last time he saw Sonny, well…
As he opened his mouth, something sharp swiped his ankle and he cried out. “Ow! Dammit…” Reaching down, he scooped up the kitten and held her against his chest. “Sorry…my cat just got me,” he explained awkwardly, and he heard Amanda laugh softly.
“You got a cat, Barba?” she asked. “When did you become such a softie?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, he ignored the question. “Look, Amanda,” he said as gently and rationally as he could, “Sonny and I, we didn’t separate on good terms. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. I really don’t see how this could do anything positive for him right now.”
“Please?”
It caught him by surprise. She was crying again, and he knew that she believed with all of her heart that he might actually be the solution.
“Rollins,” he said gently, “maybe he just needs more time. How long has it been since he was injured?”
Her voice nearly squeaked when she answered. “Thirty-two days.”
He sighed.
“Please, Rafael,” she begged, “we’ve tried everything and everyone. I am not going to give up on him. He’s never given up on me, and God knows he’s had plenty of chances–”
“It’s just he’s not going to want to talk to me, Amanda…he wouldn’t even talk to me when I left Manhattan. He hates me–”
“Fine! So maybe he’ll tell you to fuck off!” she snapped. “I don’t care what he says, as long as he says something! Please, Rafael…I’ve never asked you for anything before, but please…I know you loved him and he loved you…please, even if it’s just for a few days…”
You’re unhappy with your job here. Nothing is tying you to Iowa. Why in the hell would you not help the one person you loved more than life?
He sighed heavily, and Cati rubbed her head against his beard, purring. “Okay, Amanda. Let me get up with my supervisor. I should have quite a bit of time accrued–”
“I can hear your cat.” she interrupted, sounding accusatory.
“What? Oh,” he replied. “She’s just purring. I’m allowed to have a pet, just like you, y’know.”
She hummed. “I never pictured you as having a cat is all,” she remarked. “Anyway, so you’ll come? You’ll let me know when you’ll be here? The sooner the better, okay?”
“I hear you,” he told her. “I’ll text you when I know the date I’ll fly in, okay? And in the meantime, take care of yourself, Amanda.”
There was a long sigh again, then he swore he heard more crying. “Thanks, Barba. You too. And pet your cat for me.”