Chapter Text
“Cute kid, Auntie Amanda.” Nick teases, picking up the only framed photo on her desk. Not good at flirting. Amanda adds to her mental Nick Amaro checklist.
“That’s uh, my kid actually.” She smiles with a tilt of her head.
If she were still in Georgia this confession would be followed up by a condescending, “Well just bless your heart. She’s beautiful.”
But she’s not, she’s in New York. Forging a new path for her and her daughter (and maybe running from an old one).
“Oh wow, Amanda I- I am sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. I just uh - she’s a beautiful girl.” Nick stumbles over his response. There isn’t a lick of condescension in his tone, though. Cute when nervous. Amanda’s list grows.
“Nick, take a breath. It’s okay, it happens all the time. I had her when I was well” - she gives a quick shake of her head, “young.”
“How uh- old is she?” Nick counters, still unsure of the territory.
“Twelve.”
“Ah, wow. I have a five year old,” He pushes back from Rollins’ desk, gliding to his own on the wheels of his chair.
He picks up his only framed photo and inches back, propelling himself by the heels of his feet. He hands the photo to Amanda who politely smiles back at it.
“Zara.” Nick says, proud. “She’s the best. Which, I am sure, you get.”
“She’s gorgeous, Nick.” She hands back the frame. Noting his still-present nervousness.
With time, and age, has come an ease to this routine. Sitting in other people’s discomfort over the fact she was a young mother.
Most days the tormenting by her peers and the disappointment on her father’s face feels like a different lifetime. But back then, all she felt was shame.
Back then, she didn’t have the slightest clue about being someone’s mother. Her own had asked her how long she’d been “whoring around” the night she finally learned of the news.
That night, Amanda cradled her growing abdomen while she lay awake in her childhood bedroom. She spoke softly. “It’s a pretty low bar, kid. But, if you’ll let me try, I think I can be better than that.”
And she was.
The second her daughter looked in her eyes like the entire world was reflected in them, she knew she’d be better. She kissed her brand new baby’s head and in the softest whisper she spoke to her. “Thank you for trusting me, baby.”
As she and her baby grew, Amanda learned how to look past the stares in the grocery store. She ignored the whispering in the halls of her high school. Her parents, while rich in their faults, were incredible grandparents. It was Amanda’s baby, yes, but it became clear pretty quickly that she was going to be everyone’s little girl.
She became a cop out of desperation, really. It was something she had thought about when she was a child, crouched in the back of her closet with her sister curled into her side. They’d wait there until the slam of the front door told them it was safe to come out. All she wanted in those dark moments was for someone to run right past her mean dad and weak mother. Someone to fling open those closet doors and take her and her sister out of there.
But, no one ever did.
Those memories crept back around when she turned eighteen with a one-year-old on her hip. She knew she didn’t have the time or money for college. But still, she wanted to do something that mattered to the little girl in the back of that closet and for the one on her hip.
So, she enrolled in the academy. She was going to be the person who flung open doors and wasn’t scared of anybody.
“So, what’s her name?” Nick probed.
“Oh, sorry-” Rollins shook herself back into the moment. “Jo. Well, technically Josephine but, Jo.”
“Jo, that’s sweet.” Nick smiled.
“Yeah,” Amanda smiled back. “I like boy names for girls.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.” Nick nodded before pushing himself back from Amanda’s desk.
Amanda hummed and let her eyes rest on the photo of her little girl for just a second longer before returning her attention to the stack of files on her desk.