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Sonny expected to feel a crushing weight when Rafael was arraigned.
He predicted that he would feel very heavy while the debate raged on between the prosecution, in this case the notorious Jack McCoy, and the defense, L.A. hot-shot and fellow Harvard Law grad Rashmi Gupta. Rashmi had immediately reached out to Rafael upon the news of his charges, and the A.D.A. had swiftly and gratefully taken up her offer to defend him. Her track record was impressive as a defense attorney, certainly in the traditional sense; she had lost just two of the last thirty cases she defended. But perhaps more impressive than that was the fact that she had built such a fearsome reputation so early in her career that she had only tried cases that she had personally selected in the last ten years. She was still a defense attorney, Rafael had acknowledged, but at least she had a spine.
For arraignment, Rafael had chosen a modest suit, with a blue and yellow tie that he hoped would convey humility but not drabness. Justice Pung was certainly familiar with the A.D.A. despite not having heard as many of his cases — because of course Rafael's reputation was way out in front of him — but would rule fairly if his record was anything to go by. The judge regarded the disgraced prosecutor with an unnerving mix of curiosity and sternness.
Sonny thought he would feel broken if the state remanded Rafael until his trial, and wary relief if he was released on bail. He had been making calls all morning to Rafael's various financial institutions, preparing to put his various worldly possessions and invisible financial games up as collateral. His heart was heavy, a dense mass tugging on the edges of his pulmonary cavity, beating at a volume and pace that genuinely worried the detective.
But what was more concerning, actually, was the sheer numbness Sonny felt. It was as though, despite the fact that he could articulate each limb and finger as he could the day before, much of the feeling in his body was muted. Instead of his mind racing a mile per minute, it was as though his brain was sitting atop the space needle, and a raging Seattle rainstorm had surrounded the tower, blocking sight and sound and touch. Sonny wasn't sure what was keeping his fingers dialing phone number after phone number, or how he managed to shower, comb his hair, and carefully apply his best three-piece blue suit with the red and white abstract-patterned tie. In contrast to Rafael, Sonny was hoping to stick out a bit, to remind the judge that the man on trial had something, rather, someone to live for. And if he projected a bit of patriotism while he was at it, all the better.
As the ride service swept him from their upper west side apartment to the courthouse in midtown, Sonny fidgeted with the silver band on his ring finger. The wedding was three months away. Or, he corrected himself, was supposed to be three months away. Now, there was really no telling. Last night, the pair sat in quiet desperation, clutching at each other on the living room couch, when the forceful banging came at their apartment door. They knew what was coming, but it didn’t stop Rafael from jumping a foot at the first knock. Two homicide detectives from the 19th precinct stepped sheepishly across the threshold and cuffed Rafael, wheeling him around and escorting him from his apartment potentially for the last time. Sonny was still, silent, fiddling with his ring. He felt that he understood intellectually what was happening, but the rest of his faculties had yet to process the information. He had woken up this morning, bewildered at first about how he could be alone, caught in the edges of sleep for a handful of minutes. The storm cloud, dark and brooding, settled around him as he realized that his beloved had been taken away.
The wedding was supposed to be in three months. As he stepped out of the car, Sonny reflexively straightened his jacket and smoothed his pants, buying himself precious moments before he had to face the fray. He was standing just outside a mass of people, civilians, journalists, and civil servants alike, mixing and bubbling like a pot of soup set to simmer. At once, a couple of journalists and their TV crews, as well as Amanda and Fin, noticed Sonny's arrival, and each stalked over to him from opposite ends of the block, engaging in the most polite foot race imaginable. Lucky for him, his coworkers won out, and they flanked him, urging him toward the courthouse to escape the onslaught of shouted questions and fuzzy microphones being thrust into his face.
He barely felt any of it, Fin's strong clutch of his left elbow, and Amanda's small arm threaded through his right. He vaguely registered the pulsing of the crowd, those behind trying to get around them, and those in front being shoved aside by Fin’s firmly outstretched arm. They fought through the mass of bodies like rogue fish swimming upstream. Sonny tripped on the last step up to the building entrance, but Amanda leaned into him to propel him forward, murmuring
“easy there”
in his ear. Once inside, he saw Olivia, who rushed over to the three detectives, peppering him with reassurances and gentle questions, and he seemed to respond adequately, because they moved into the gallery to get close seats. Lucia Barba was seated a row ahead of them, along with a couple of aunts and cousins she managed to dig up for the occasion. Sonny's parents sat stoically at the end of the row, deep in whispered conversation. Lucia turned around and tearfully squeezed Sonny's hand, who barely flashed a weak smile, but robotically patted her on the shoulder with his free hand. She too said something to him, and he responded, but the cloud around his mind was thickening as the judge entered the room, and he couldn't for the life of him recall the details of the exchange.
The crowd, which had been quieting down, broke out in a buzz of murmurs when Jack McCoy entered the courtroom. Even after all these years, he stood tall, even defiant today, and strode purposefully and confidently to his table and set down his briefcase. He glanced over at the Barba fan club, and gave a quick nod. Sonny didn't envy the man this task; to prosecute one of their own, to charge and try the infamous Rafael Barba for one of the more morally controversial crimes of the modern age. If there was anyone to do it, it was Jack McCoy, of course. Still, Sonny noticed the protective detail escorting the attorney, a pair of unis seated on a bench to the right of Jack's table. He couldn't imagine the influx of messages, both in support as well as critique of Jack taking this case.
It was as though a bolt of lighting shot through the storm hanging about his head when Rafael was escorted into the courtroom. Sonny's heart clenched violently, and his hands began to tremble. Rafael, for his part, looked impressively calm, as blank an expression as one could hope for under the circumstances on his face, with a hint of anger simmering below the surface. He was ushered to his seat at the defense's table, and only turned around for a moment to nod gratefully to his family, and then his gaze met Sonny's, and he froze. His thick brows drew together in a sharp peak, and his bright green eyes were glossy and grief-stricken. It was if he hadn't thought through this particular instant, and was at an utter loss of how to nonverbally communicate anything to his fiance. Sonny was sure he was doing no better, his face falling slightly as he took in Rafael's expression, but was at a loss for what to do or say. After a beat, Rafael turned back to face the front of the courtroom, Rashmi leaning over to quietly impart a frenzied rush of instructions and reassurances.
The arraignment was over with remarkable speed. These procedurals were usually brief, but this one was particularly short. Sonny felt that he had only glanced down at his now more violently shaking hands for a couple of moments, and when he looked up, the judge was smacking his gavel firmly, accepting the million dollar bail. Sonny had been prepared for this, and immediately whipped out his phone to fire a text off to Carmen to set into motion the wave of transactions freeing the money to retrieve Rafael from holding. He stood, accepted embraces from Olivia, Amanda, Lucia, his mother, a handshake and clap on the back from Fin and his father. His phone buzzed with a call from Carmen, so he held a hand up to his mother who was chirping off questions at a blinding speed, and stepped out of the room to take the call.
This was a mistake, as a hoard of reporters immediately descended like gnarled birds of prey on a fermenting carcass, and he ducked back into the courtroom and hid in the shallow alcove by a side door. Carmen calmly asked short, clear questions, and patiently guided Sonny to the responses she needed. He wasn't frazzled, per se, but he was definitely having trouble focusing on her words. The weight from the night before and this morning had been forcibly removed from his ribcage, and was replaced by a raw gnawing of sorts, as if the unhealed edges of his chest were now infected with a dull throbbing; a gain in levity but a loss of numbness. His mind, however, was as good as underwater, sights confusing and sounds distorted with the effort of bending around the protective mental barriers in place.
Lucia approached him as he ended the call, and he confirmed that he had everything financial squared away, and that he would retrieve Rafael within an hour or so. He promised to call her afterward, and hugged her tight. Her face was stony, and she looked toughened by this experience, as though calloused from the fear and pain. Her tears had long since dried, and she visibly straightened after being released from Sonny's embrace. She stalked back over to her family members, who milled about awkwardly as if unsure of the appropriate time to disappear back to the Bronx. Sonny had only met a couple of them, and he sensed that their presence stemmed more from begrudging obligation than a sense of loyalty.
They had been engaged for almost eight months. Rafael had not wanted a long engagement, but with their work schedules and the holidays, there was not a feasible time until the spring. Sonny now used his thumb to spin his ring, as his other hand held his phone to his head once more, Rashmi's voice now gentle in his ear. She clarified the bond amount, and the procedure for posting it, not because Sonny didn't know, but because he needed the specific instruction to get his feet to move. She assured him that Rafael was "fine", and that word caught in Sonny's conscious like a snag in knit wool.
Fine. Rafael was Fine. This statement felt meaningless, like she had instead told him that Rafael was Mutual, or Enriched, or anything else equally as confounding. What in the hell did Fine mean, anyway? In what universe could the threat of a life in prison
ever
coexist with the concept of being Fine? These ponderings swirled not in Sonny's head, but down in his chest, at the removal site of the steel-plated heart that had been removed without anesthesia or scalpel, and the emptiness ached sharply. It was as though the raw edges of the entrance to hell itself had been relocated to just below the surface of Sonny's undershirt, and these thoughts floated above it like damned souls desperately philosophizing in frantic whispers.
Amanda drove him to the jailhouse in an unmarked car, and was wisely and mercifully silent for the ride over. She seemed exhausted, as she too was going through a hearty slice of the hell her two friends were dealing with, not to mention caring for Jesse throughout it all. Sonny's mind had begun to sharpen, his thoughts moving sluggishly but more frequently across the barren landscape. They had picked April for their wedding day, knowing that it would still be cold in New York City, but that there was hope for a sunny day with no snow. Maybe. In any case, they would be married and celebrate at a beautiful rooftop venue, with the flexibility of outdoor seating should the weather be unseasonably warm, or in the more likely case of frigid winds, a stunning indoor space overlooking the terrace and a breathtaking view of the city. Today, in late January, the only thing taking breath away was the near-negative temperatures. Sonny was glad for the cold. It grounded him as he stepped out of the car, bringing him back to the feeling of having arms and legs and fingers and toes, appendages that he could control, even coordinate to maneuver him through the crushing inevitabilities that now stretched before him. There would likely not be a wedding in three months. Sonny didn't even know if there would be a wedding at all.
Amanda trailed behind him protectively as he stalked up the steps to the jailhouse, nodding at the various officers who passed them, her badge gleaming on her hip. Sonny stared blankly ahead, trying to jump-start his brain in anticipation of the next several transactions he needed to complete in order to have his fiance restored to him until the trial. He pushed through the heavy double doors and into the bleak, 70’s-era lobby, complete with a mottled drop ceiling, harrowing fluorescent lights, and awful fabric-covered chairs with lacquered wood armrests. Amanda plopped down in one as he approached the front desk, stating his business in a quivering voice, his hands still shaking slightly as he accepted the clipboard of forms to complete. A test of sorts, to make sure he had made the right calls, that he was the right person at the right time to accept custody of one Rafael Barba. There had never been anything this formal, this all-encompassing to validate their relationship. Their disclosure papers had felt like finger painting compared to this. Everything else that made up the relationship between Sonny Carisi and Rafael Barba was either intangible or indirect. There was love, and emotion, and history, years of dancing around each other before either was ready to take the plunge, each for different reasons. There were mutual expenditures; household possessions, the apartment they went in on together, the nice camera, weekend trips to warmer climates, countless dinners that drew the two men closer and closer together. Even their engagement was but a conversation, certainly with a couple of rings involved, but they were just months from the signed document proclaiming their union. Not that either of them were at all concerned at this point about whether or not the State of New York recognized their pairing, but they were over the moon about the opportunity to celebrate their love at last, after years of hints, and teasing, and uncertainty, and angst, and touches, and finally, declarations of love.
Sonny's pen hovered over the form where he was meant to write in his relationship to the accused. He hesitated only to reflect upon what might become of them should Rafael be convicted. Would they have a prison wedding? Would Sonny drive to whichever federal facility as many weekends as he could to speak with his beloved through a plexiglass wall? What was next for them, should the worst possible outcome, save death, become reality? Sonny really didn't have any answers at the moment, and the throbbing around the gaping hole in his chest had sharpened substantially since he had begun filling out paperwork.
He wrote, slowly and in his best penmanship, fiance, and then hoisted himself out of the low seat to turn in the clipboard. As he returned to sit once more, he noticed Amanda. She sat catty corner from him, slumped in her seat, one hand valiantly propping up her weighted head, staring into the nothingness before her. He quirked a half-smile, sad and weak, but an acknowledgement of gratitude she would understand. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded slowly, accepting this.
"Dominick Carisi?" Sonny's head snapped up. Had any time passed at all? A buzzing mounted in his ears, and he felt a headache creeping up the back of his neck into the crown of his head. He approached the window once more, answered a few questions for the woman behind it, who somehow looked at once tired and shocked, but the latter may have been due to the sharp peak of her eyebrows. He would be allowed to see Rafael while the bailout processed because of the special clearance afforded him by his badge. She directed him to the door to the left of reception, which opened to reveal a uniformed officer ready to escort him to the holding cells. Sonny took a deep breath, trying not to think too much about how simultaneously ordinary and utterly foreign the walk down this hall felt. He could hear his own heart in his ears, and he worked to keep up with the surprisingly quick officer. Before he could possibly be ready, they turned a sharp left, and there, before him, was Rafael.
He was sitting on the cold, metal bench against the far wall, elbows on knees and head in his hands, fingers threaded through his brown and silver hair. His suit jacket was, of course, folded neatly beside him, but his sleeves remained cuffed at his wrists. It was cold in the jail, but Sonny knew he would want the freedom of motion the jacket would have restricted. His back and shoulders rose and fell slowly with his deep breaths, but he was silent. He looked small, Sonny thought, or maybe just vulnerable, like an exotic animal in need of protection. At the crackle of the officer's walkie talkie, his head snapped up. His face crumpled, and a gasp caught in his throat.
"Sonny,” he exhaled, and flew to the bars of his cell.
It was as though the sound of Rafael's voice was the dynamite needed to break the dam, because Sonny burst into tears. All-encompassing, full-body, ugly crying. Through it, he attempted to speak, but his whole body shook with the force of his sobs, and he sagged against the bars. Rafael grasped at his wrists, whispering frantically, threading a hand through the bars to stroke the back of his head, a favorite comforting gesture currently failing to console the detective. Sonny bawled like he hadn't in years, his tears wetting Rafael's face as their foreheads strained to press together between the cold steel barriers. The stress of the last few months combined with the crippling fear and anxiety of today all melted Sonny down, reducing him to a quivering, sighing mess.
"Mi amor, I'm so sorry, I never meant to do this to you," Rafael whispered, his breath labored, grabbing at any part of his fiance he could reach, "please forgive me, you don’t deserve to go through this. I promised I would be there for you." Sonny focused hard on getting ahold of himself so that he could argue this point, but he managed only to gasp desperate breaths in and out, letting the worst of the attack subside, gathering his tired wits about himself again. He shook his head slightly, not willing his forehead to completely leave the bars.
"Rafael, you know that's not how this works," he insisted breathlessly, voice as broken as his heart, "you haven't done anything to me. Nothing wrong. To anyone, for that matter." His thoughts and words tumbled over each other, and he struggled to return his brain to order.
"You're going to be alright," Rafael sighed after a beat, "you're going to be okay." He gently thumbed away tears fallen fresh from the blue eyes that regarded him seriously. Before continuing, he paused, a breath hitching in his throat, and he looked away for a moment, visibly collecting the words for his next statement.
"I've spent hours thinking about what happens next. What happens if they put me away, mi amor? What will become of us?"
Sonny's heart returned to his body just in time to violently twist at these words.
"What the fuck," he whispered. "We are absolutely not doing this right now." His righteous anger helped to steel him, his spine straightening and his grip on Rafael's elbows tightening. "We are getting you out of here, and we'll figure out the rest later. Please. I need you right now. Let's go home and just be together." His words left his mouth all in a rush, but Rafael nodded solemnly in understanding.
The uni's walkie talkie crackled approval to release Rafael, and Sonny stepped back to let him unlock the cage. As soon as the door was open just enough for his body to pass through, Rafael collapsed into his lover's arms, his body heavy and trembling. Sonny held him close, taking a long whiff of his hair, lightly musty but oh, so comforting. They remained like this for another moment before the officer cleared her throat uncomfortably, and jerked her head toward the exit. Rafael retrieved his suit jacket, and the two of them trailed obediently behind the young woman as she lead them down the hall.
As they entered the lobby, Amanda leapt to her feet and pulled Rafael into a hug. He choked out a laugh that sounded like it could have as easily been a sob, patting her hair soothingly. She murmured in his ear, and he nodded, and then they stepped away from each other, matching sad half-smiles on their faces.
Sonny resolved to not be without Rafael's touch from now until whenever they were ripped apart, so he reached out for the man, and was met with another crushing hug. Rafael buried his face in Sonny's chest, his breath now quick and shallow.
"I'm terrified, mi vida," he said quietly, almost panting at this point. Sonny rubbed circles in his back, but was shattered at these words. "I'm scared out of my mind."
"I'm not going to lose you," Sonny murmured into his hair, "not now." Fingers intertwined, the two made for the doors, the sun shining blindingly as they stepped out of the jailhouse and into the uncertain future they now faced.