“Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper.” @halsteadlover - Tumblr Blog

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈

*Pics and gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead X Fem!Reader.

• Requested: kinda lol (just two comments).

• Warnings: mention of trauma, panic attack, blood, use of gun and knife, death, curse words, violence.

• Word count: 16K (yeah I’m sorry about that lmao).

• A/N: that’s part 2 of Scars and Shields. First of all I want to apologize if I didn’t to a great job, I tried my best to write about the trauma, the feelings associated to it etc please bear with me lol, I’m more than happy to learn from my mistakes so please comment if I wrote something wrong. Let me know what you think about this, please comment, like and repost if you want, it’d mean the world. Love you all.❤️

<- Part one

Two months later your injuries had healed.

The bruise faded and when you looked in the mirror, it almost seemed like they’d never been there.

But they were there, you could still feel them. Maybe physically they were gone, but emotionally… God, it was a whole another story.

The fear was still there, strong, intense.

Marcus Kane had devastated you more than you’d ever cared to admit, and you hated it.

You hated that even after two months—even knowing he was behind bars—you still counted the exits in every building you entered, still looked over your shoulder, still jumped at the slightest noise, still startled when someone suddenly touched you.

Some days were better than others, some slower, some faster when you somehow managed to distract yourself, especially with work. Some days you found yourself checking the locks only once instead of three times, while others you flinched even when the wind blew the leaves a little more than usual.

And you couldn’t stand it.

You thought about it a lot: if you’d gone to therapy after your first attack, would you’ve have been stronger now? If you’d talked about it with someone, would you have been forced to face it all alone?

What if you hadn’t locked everything away in a box and thrown it into the depths of your mind, without the presumption that everything would be okay?

You didn’t have an answer for this and now, unfortunately, you were forced to pay the consequences.

Of one thing, however, you were sure: without Jay Halstead, you would’ve ended up in an endless abyss, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back up on your own.

It was hard to admit it to yourself, especially at first, but ever since that night—when you run to his house in tears—he had never left your side. Ever.

His presence hadn’t been overwhelming; on the contrary, it was like that first breath of fresh air you inhaled after spending so much time underwater.

He had never insisted, never told you what to do, how to behave, he was simply there. He was there in the little things, in the moments of difficulty that seemed small but were insurmountable for you.

And this was because he knew you, he knew who you were.

It was true, you had never confided in each other, you weren’t the kind of people to talk to each other about their feelings, but in all that time you had been partners, you had learned to know each other, really know each other, even if in your own way, even without too many words.

It was late at night, and all the team got back home earlier after successfully closing a case. The doorbell rang suddenly, and your heart skipped a beat, not because you were surprised, but because you knew exactly who was on the other side of the door.

When you opened it, you weren’t surprised to find Jay standing there, looking as if he’d stepped out of a modeling magazine.

“Well, you really were waiting for me, huh?” Jay teased, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, a smug smile on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, amused but trying to hold back a laugh. “I was already up,” you replied, making room for him to come in.

It had become your unspoken ritual. Since you were attacked, there hadn’t been a single evening, not even one, that Jay had left you alone. No matter what happened, after every incident, even if you both had your own commitments, even if you insisted it wasn’t necessary, he made sure you weren’t alone,

The first few times you resisted, feeling guilty and weak, but as the days passed, as you began to process everything—the attack, your undercover past with Kane—you realized how vital Jay’s presence was, how grateful you were for it, and how much he had helped you.

When you felt like it, you talked about it, encouraged by him but without too much insistence. When you had a panic attack, he was there, hugging you and whispering that everything was okay. When you cried because you felt broken, he dried your tears, telling you how you were the strongest person he had ever known.

And then everything went back to the way it was before, teasing you, playfully insulting you, pranking you, leaving you no time to dwell on the rest like you usually would.

“Look what I brought you and tell me if I’m not the best partner in the world,” he began, once you were both in the kitchen. He pulled out a box of special tea from a white bag… Your favorite one.

“Oh my God, Jay!” you exclaimed with joy. “How the hell did you find that?! I’ve been looking for it since forever. Thank you so much!” You almost jumped like a child, your heart fluttering erratically. Well, yes, you were an herbal tea lover, you couldn’t help it.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Grandma.”

You playfully hit him on the arm. “Stop calling me that.”

“Never,” he retorted, laughing. It was a nickname he’d given you since he discovered your endless supply of herbal teas. “Anyway, I found it by chance in a shop nearby, it’s nothing special.”

You picked up the box and looked at it for a moment as you smiled, because you didn’t believe for a second that he’d just found it by chance, and the thought that Jay had been scouring through shops looking for that particular brand of tea for you, made your stomach twist, in a way that happened all too often when you were with him.

“Thank you, seriously, you didn’t have to do it, I really appreciate it,” you looked at him for a moment and noticed how his cheeks had suddenly flushed, like his ears.

God he was so adorable, you wanted to squeeze the shit out of him.

Without thinking too much, you hugged him; you weren’t good with words, and you hoped in that hug, he’d truly understand your gratitude, not just for the tea, but for everything.

He stiffened for a second before returning the hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, his body relaxing.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

You took a second, just one, to inhale his scent, that perfume that was becoming a sense of security, your lifeline.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, maybe a second, maybe a minute, maybe longer than was appropriate, longer than ideal for just two partners.

But you didn’t move.

Your body reacted before your mind did, the way you melted into his arms, how the tension on your shoulders slowly dissipated. It unsettled you, how normal and natural it was becoming, how easy it was becoming to let go with him.

In that moment, however, you decided not to think about it because it felt good being in his arms.

You focused only on his regular breathing, the warmth of his chest under your cheek, his heartbeat, the rapidity of which you couldn’t help but notice.

For a fleeting moment, a thought brushed the edges of your mind.

Please don’t let this stop.

You pushed it away immediately, guilt curling in your stomach. You shouldn’t have needed this, need him like this.

And yet, when his arms tightened around your body, you held on for a second longer.

When you finally pulled back, there was a moment of silence in which neither of you said anything.

You simply slightly raised your head, enough to look at him, and your eyes met his, so bright, so deep and unreadable. He looked at you intensely, as if he was about to say something, but finally he cleared his throat, breaking the moment as naturally as it had formed.

A small smile graced his lips. “How about a nice cup of tea now?”

“Great idea.”

You moved around each other in the kitchen with ease, as if he’d been there a million times. No hesitation, no need to ask.

Jay filled the kettle while you reached for two mugs, automatically grabbing his favorite without even thinking about it.

You started talking and joking, that hug as if it had never happened.

“You know,” he spoke casually, opening the pantry where you had only herbal teas, of every possible kind, “I wanted to ask you something. Do you even have something to eat in there?”.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I do.”

“You wouldn’t think so,” he teased you. “One day I’ll turn on the TV and find you on that show ‘Me and My Obsessions’ or whatever it’s called.”

“I’m not obsessed. Can’t a girl like a nice cup of tea?”.

“That’s straight up obsession, darling,” he said as he looked through your immense collection. You tried to not to think about how your heart skipped a bit hearing him say darling. “I really don’t understand how you can like all these weeds.”

“Excuse me? They’re not weeds, they’re actually very healthy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he let out a small laugh.

“But why do I have to sit here and be criticized by someone who only drinks black coffee? Without even sugar, and you even have the nerve to say it’s so good.”

“Because it is good,” he picked up a carton of lemon and ginger tea and took a teabag from it, “still better than whatever medieval potion you have in here.”

You nudged him with your elbow as you passed by, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just uncultured.”

He looked at you, a raised eyebrow. “Wow. Attacked in my own kitchen.”

You paused, then smirked. “Pardon? Your kitchen? Pretty sure this is my apartment.”

“Still, I always end up cooking or making your potions when I come here,” Jay leaned back against the counter.

“And who asked you?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“My kindness, because without me you would’ve died of hunger living only on your herbal teas.”

“And yet,” you shot back, “you keep coming over and you’re making yourself one of my potions.”

For a split second, something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe—before he recovered, that familiar grin sliding back into place.

“Guess I’m a sucker for punishment,” he said lightly, wiggling his eyebrows.

But the way he looked at you lingered just a beat too long.

The kettle whistled, filling the apartment with a familiar sound. You leaned back against the counter, watching Jay move, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed, like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

And maybe that was the problem.

You carried your mug to the couch, curling your fingers around the warmth as you sat down. Jay joined you a moment later, settling beside you with just enough space to be appropriate, and yet close enough you could feel the heat of his arm through the fabric of his shirt.

The film you had chosen played quietly in the background, some mindless film that you weren’t even really watching. The silence between you wasn’t heavy, awkward. It was… comfortable. Safe.

You sipped your tea and let your shoulders relax, your thoughts drifting.

Two months ago, being alone in your apartment felt unbearable. The walls were too thin, the silence too loud. Every sound made your heart racing, every shadow felt like a threat.

Now, with Jay sitting next to you, the fear didn’t disappear completely, but it softened. It dulled at the edges, manageable. You weren’t healed, you knew that. Some days were still hard, some nights still endless.

But you weren’t drowning anymore.

You realized, distantly, that Jay had become part of your balance. Not your crutch, but that steady presence that reminded you how to stand back up when your legs felt weak.

He didn’t fix things, he didn’t pretend to. He just stayed.

And somehow, that was everything.

Your gaze flicked to him briefly, looking at the way his jaw tensed when something on the TV annoyed him, the way his foot bounced slightly against the floor.

You wondered when you’d started noticing these things. When did they start to matter? Or were they always important to you but you were just now realizing it?

The thought made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

You looked back at your mug, suddenly afraid of where your mind was going.

This was safe. This was good. You couldn’t afford to complicate it. You couldn’t afford to name feelings you weren’t ready to face.

What if it was the situation that made you think those things? Because, let’s face it, he wouldn’t even be there if it wasn’t for that night. Your relationship would’ve been the same, you wouldn’t have gotten that close.

Still… a quiet, traitorous part of you whispered a question you didn’t dare ask out loud.

What happens when this end?

When he decides I’m okay?

When he stops coming over?

When I have to relearn how to sit in this apartment alone?

Your fingers curled tighter around the mug, as if holding onto the warmth could keep the thought from slipping away.

He was there because he was a good friend helping a friend in a moment of difficulty, nothing more and nothing less, you couldn’t think otherwise.

Jay shifted beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “You okay?” he asked softly, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar concern.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You settled deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket to cover your legs, the mug warm between your palms before taking another sip. Jay leaned back beside you as he too pulled the blanket over his legs, stretching his arm along the back of the couch—not touching you, but close enough that you were acutely aware of him.

Too aware.

You tried to focus on the TV, but your mind wandered, drifting backward without your permission.

Your head was exploding from everything that was happening, from all the confusion that was invading it.

This wasn’t new, that was the unsettling part.

Even before everything—before Kane—Jay had always been there. Not like this, not so constant, but present in ways you hadn’t questioned at the time. The lingering looks you’d brushed off as nothing. The way your stomach had flipped whenever he smiled at you, the instinctive trust you’d placed in him long before all of this.

You’d told yourself it was just partnership. Respect. Familiarity.

It had been easier not to look too closely.

But in that moment, sitting beside him in the quiet of your apartment, the truth pressed gently but insistently against your ribs. Something you didn’t want to listen to, however, because you knew it would only bring more pain, pain you weren’t ready to face. Something you’d ignored because acknowledging it would’ve meant risking something you hadn’t been ready to lose.

You swallowed, your grip tightening around the mug.

The fear wasn’t about needing him. It was about wanting him more than just friends and realizing you always had.

Jay shifted again, glancing at you. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, softer this time, like he was afraid of startling you.

You nodded, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He studied you for a moment longer, like he knew there was more but wouldn’t push.

That was Jay. Always giving you space, even when every instinct in him probably told him to step closer.

And maybe that was why this hurt in a way you hadn’t expected.

Because if things had been different, he wouldn’t even have been there, and you’d never even had the courage to even face these thoughts.

You glanced at him again, just for a second before bringing your eyes back to the film. He was watching the TV now, relaxed, unaware of the quiet war unfolding in your chest.

You wondered if he had ever felt it too.

Or if this had always been yours alone.

Jay took a sip from his cup, and you found yourself glancing at him again, involuntarily. It was only when you realized he was turning his head toward you that you immediately returned your eyes to the screen. Your face was ablaze, your heart pounding, a single realization settling heavy and undeniable in your chest—this wasn’t something that started because he stayed, it was something that stayed because it had always been there.

But you weren’t ready to face it, not at that moment.

“Hey,” he whispered after a while, drawing your attention from that movie you absolutely hadn’t been watching. You looked at him, seeing he’s already looking at you. “If you need to talk, I’m here, you know that, right?”

You smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

His eyes roamed your face for a moment, sweet and attentive. “I know you know, but I also know I have to remind you every now and then.”

Your heart was beating so erratically you feared an imminent cardiac arrest. “You don’t need to… Really, I’m fine.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I can see from here how that pretty little brain of yours is working right now.”

“That’s not true, I was just watching the movie.”

“You were watching everything but TV, come on.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because I watch you a lot more than you think,” he replied so casually, as if these few, simple words hadn’t just turned your life upside down. “And that’s why I want to remind you that I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

You nodded, unable to form any meaningful sentence, your voice stuck in your throat.

He smiled sweetly at you and shifted a little, adjusting the blanket over your legs that had begun to fall to the floor. He made sure it covered you more. He was protective, thoughtful, and you struggled to remember the last person who had been so thoughtful to you for the simple reason that they wanted to be so without receiving anything in return.

“Thank you... For everything,” you whispered after a while, both of you intent on watching the movie. You didn’t even know if he’d heard you, but when his arm slid from the back of the couch around your shoulders—squeezing you a little closer to him—you had confirmation that he had indeed heard you.

For a moment, you let yourself just be. No fear. No panic. Just tea, the quiet hum of the apartment, and Jay.

You stayed like that, until tiredness took over and you found yourself resting your head on his shoulder. You were probably dreaming, because, at a certain point, you even felt his lips touch the top of your head.

You didn’t ask yourself if it really happened or not, you simply let yourself be cradled in his arms, in a deep sleep that you rarely had anymore.

-

You were at work, weeks later, in the middle of a morning that felt deceptively calm.

Those weeks had brought small steps forward. You’d finally found the courage to see a therapist, sat through your first session with your hands clenched in your lap, your voice shaking only once—or twice—when certain words came too close to the surface. Time had passed in a blur of cases, coffee breaks, late nights buried in paperwork, and you hadn’t missed how thoroughly you were drowning yourself in work you didn’t strictly need to do.

Maybe it wasn’t healthy, overworking yourself just to stay afloat. But it kept your mind busy, and busy meant quiet. If that was the price of feeling okay, you were willing to pay it—even if your therapist had gently suggested otherwise.

You were sitting at your desk when a familiar voice caught your attention.

“So…” Kim said, and you looked up at her as she sat on the edge of your desk. “You look… Better.”

“Better?”

She nodded, studying you with an intense, searching gaze. “You seem more present, less… I don’t know, like you’re running on fumes like the first few days.”

The first few days after the attack, she didn’t finish, but that’s what she meant.

You let out a humorless laugh, meaning against the back of your chair, arms crossed over your chest. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a little,” she smiled. “But really, how are you doing?”

You sighed. “I’m better. Some days are better than others, but I really feel better.”

“They’re still steps forward, I’m glad to see you like this.”

You spontaneously shifted your gaze to Jay, who was talking about something with Kevin and Adam, one hand wrapped around his disgusting coffee cup and the other tucked into his pants pocket, his posture relaxed. Kim followed your gaze, and in that moment, Jay flicked his eyes on you, mid-sentence.

You blushed and looked away before looking at Kim again.

She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” you pressed.

“You’ve been doing that a lot, you know?”

“Doing what?”

“Staring at him. You really think we wouldn’t notice?”

Your stomach churned. “I’m not staring at him, stop with this nonsense.”

“Did I say it’s a bad thing?”

You inhaled through your nose, your shoulders stiff. “Kim…”

She studied you for a moment. “He’s always been like this with you.”

“Like what?” You frowned.

“Looking at you, seeing where you are and how you are, making sure you’re okay,” she replied, “and before you say it’s the situation, my answer is no, he’s always been like this with you.”

“That’s just a partnership. We’ve been working together since… Hell, forever. Plus, he’s like that with all of us, that’s just how he is.”

“Sure, that’s how he is,” she winked, “but you can’t deny that he’s always been different with you, ever since you became partners.”

“Mmm, of course I can deny it, because it’s not like that. It’s his nature.”

“Babes, stop wearing blinders,” she retorted, “we’ve all seen the way he looks at you, like you hang the moon. Every time something happens, he checks on you before everyone else. He watches you like a guard dog ready to tear apart anyone who might hurt you. It’s just… I don’t know, he’s very protective of you, even with us.”

“With you?”

“Yeah, Kevin once made a joke about you. I don’t even remember what it was, but Jay almost bit his head off, and that’s just one example.”

You glanced back at Jay, who had just finished laughing with Kevin and Adam and was now looking at the room, eyes flicking toward you again. You quickly looked down at your hands, again, pretending you hadn’t noticed.

You could feel his eyes on you and this made a bunch of butterflies explode in your stomach like you were a teenager.

God, I’m so gone.

Kim leaned closer, her tone softer, almost conspiratorial. “I’m not saying it’s anything you have to deal with right now. I’m just saying… Whatever this is, it didn’t start with Kane. He’s always been like that. And I promise, everyone else in the team noticed it too.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden tightness in your chest. “Kim…”

“Relax,” she said with a faint smile. “I’m not trying to mess with you. Just... Telling how I see it from my point of view."

You let out a short, humorless laugh, and when you looked up again, Jay was talking to Adam, but his eyes were already on you.

You looked at each other for a moment, heart thudding a little too fast, when Voight exited his office, his voice interrupting that little moment of peace.

“Listen up, everybody,” he said, and you all snapped to attention. “I just got a call.”

There was a short pause, and you frowned when his eyes met you. That single look was enough to tell you something was wrong.

“The first hearing in Marcus Kane’s trial was supposed to be held in the next few days,” your boss spoke, and just hearing his name made your insides twist. “This morning they were taking him to court, but there was an accident, and he…” he sighed. “He managed to escape.”

In that precise moment, you felt your entire world fall apart.

Every step forward, every progress you had made, vanished like sand in the wind.

You felt all eyes on you, wary, as if they were waiting for you to collapse at any moment. You also felt his gaze, especially his gaze.

But you remained impassive, as if Voight was talking about any other case.

“How did it happen?” you asked, managing to keep your tone apathetic and flat.

You’re fine.

You’ll be fine.

Voight, like the rest of the team, observed you for a few moments. “Listen…”

“How did it happen?” you asked again, your hands folded in your lap, palms sweaty, fingers trembling.

You counted mentally. You had to stay calm, you were a cop, you had a job to do.

“A head-on collision, a car went the wrong way and collided with the vehicle carrying Kane.”

“How do we know it wasn’t planned?” Kevin asked.

“We know for sure it was. The driver has already been identified: Vincent Kane, his younger brother. The impact was too violent and he died instantly.”

You exhaled a breath but by now your brain had stopped cooperating, listening, thinking.

The words echoed, sharp and invasive, crawling under your skin. Images rushed in without warning, metal restraints, dark spaces, the sound of your own breathing too loud in your ears, the knife stabbing your skin.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral, your posture steady.

I’m okay. I’m here. I’m safe, you told yourself that over and over, like a mantra.

Someone asked another question. Voight answered. The conversation moved on. The world kept spinning like nothing had just shattered inside your chest.

But you could feel it now, that familiar pressure building, tight and suffocating. Your palms were sweaty, your heartbeat loud enough you were convinced everyone could hear it. The walls felt closer, the air thicker.

You stood up abruptly.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, already moving, not caring about your teammate’s voices calling your name.

You just walked, fast, too fast, toward the hallway, your breaths coming shallow and uneven. By the time you reached the bathroom, your vision was starting to blur, your chest burning with the effort of trying to breathe normally.

You barely made it into the bathroom before your back hit the wall and you slid down, knees folding against your chest.

No. No, not here. Not now.

Your hands shook as you pressed them to your face, trying to ground yourself, trying to remember the techniques your therapist had taught you. Five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear—

But your lungs refused to cooperate.

The panic hit fully then, brutal and overwhelming, a tidal wave you hadn’t seen coming. Your breaths turned into gasps, your body curling inward as if it could somehow make itself smaller.

“Are you okay?” Someone asked you.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Out. Now.” Jay’s voice reached your ears, your arms still wrapped around your legs, head resting on your knees. You didn’t even know who he was talking to.

Jay immediately sat down in front of you, after locking the bathroom. He didn’t dare touch you, knowing that would only make things worse. His insides twisted, in pain from what you were going through.

“Hey,” he whispered, unaware of whether you had heard him or not. You didn’t respond, just stayed there curled up, shaking like a leaf. “Hey, it’s okay, everything is going to be alright, I’m here with you.”

His chest tightened. God, how much he wanted to hold you and cradle you in his arms, protect you from all the things that were tormenting you, to wrap you in a little bubble so that nothing and no one could hurt you again.

But he couldn’t do it, not in that moment.

He knew panic attacks, trauma, well; he’d experienced them firsthand, and he knew more than anyone that pushing you would only make things worse.

He closed his hands into fists and remained in the same position, close enough for you to feel him but far enough away so you wouldn’t be scared.

“You’re not alone in this, you don’t have to face it alone,” he murmured, “he’s not here, he can’t hurt you. You’re here, you’re safe.”

Your breath hitched, uneven, and he leaned a fraction closer to you, careful not to crowd you. “Look at me,” he said gently, his hands hitching to caress you. “Just for a second, please.”

“Leave… Leave me alone, Jay,” you muttered.

“You know damn well I won’t do this, baby,” he answered, “Just look at me.”

You finally raised your head, and his heart sank as he saw your puffy, red eyes. But you weren’t looking at him, your gaze lost in space.

“Do you feel like giving me your hands?” He asked softly, holding out both his hands toward you. You stared at him for a moment before placing your trembling palms on his. Jay squeezed them, his thumbs caressing your skin.

“That’s it. Now look at me and breathe with me.”

You finally looked into his eyes, but you couldn’t speak. Another tear rolled down your cheek, and he squeezed your hands imperceptibly.

“I’m here with you, you’re not alone, okay?” He continued, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded.

“Then trust me when I say, I won’t let anything happen to you. As long as I breathe, that son of a bitch won’t touch a hair on your head.”

“Why does this keep happening to me?” You whispered, your voice broken, hoarse from crying.

Jay’s breath caught at your question, his heart breaking for you. He didn’t know how to respond, because there was no clean answer, no logical explanation for the tricks the brain sometimes played.

He didn’t rush to fill the silence.

Instead, he tightened his grip on your hands just enough to remind you he was still there. “Because trauma doesn’t work on a schedule,” he said quietly. “And it doesn’t care how strong you are.”

Your fingers trembled in his and Jay leaned towards you just a little more. “But this doesn’t mean you’re going backwards,” he continued, his voice steady even though his chest felt tight. “It doesn’t erase the work you’ve done. It just means your body remembers something your mind is still learning how to process.”

You shook your head weakly. “I should be better by now.”

“No,” he said immediately. Not sharp, but firm. “You don’t get to ‘should’ yourself through this. Give yourself some time and, above all, some credit.”

Your eyes flickered up to him at that, unfocused but searching.

“You survived something that shouldn’t have happened to you, what you went through was traumatic, he kidnapped and tortured you and now you’re facing this monster again,” Jay went on, softer now. “And your brain is doing exactly what it was wired to do, trying to keep you alive. Even when it gets it wrong.”

Another tear slipped free. He resisted the urge to wipe it away, staying still, letting you decide how close was safe.

“You’re not weak,” he added. “You’re not broken. Hell, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met in my entire life, you survived that traumatic shit, you got back on your feet and not everyone is capable of doing that.”

Your breathing slowly began to match his, still shaky but no longer spiraling. Jay watched it like it was the most important thing in the world.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Good. Just like that. In and out.”

You swallowed. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know baby, I know,” he whispered softly.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your breaths and the low hum of the building around you.

Then, cautiously, Jay moved one knee closer. “If it’s alright,” he said quietly, “I can stay right here as long as you need. Or I can get you out of here. Your call.”

And he meant it. Every word.

You hesitated, then nodded faintly. “Just… Stay.”

Something in his chest loosened. “I’ve got you,” he said, low and steady. “Take all the time you need. I’ll always be here.”

And he stayed exactly where he was, anchoring, present, unmovable, not as a hero, but as someone who cared too deeply to leave.

You sat there on that cold floor for an indefinite amount of time, him helping you take deep breaths, but not a word was said.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered suddenly, so quietly he almost imagined he’d heard them.

He frowned. “For what?”

“For all of this,” you sighed, your gaze fixed on your fingers still intertwined with his. “For being a burden…”

“Hey, hey, no. Stop,” he interrupted you immediately, his heart contracting painfully. “Don’t do that.”

Your eyes met his, uncertain, guilt-ridden.

“Don’t even finish that sentence. Don’t ever, ever, apologize, not to me, not to anyone else, okay? I never want to hear you say that again.”

You remained silent, your eyes still full of tears. God, he hated seeing you like this, he hated not being able to do anything to make you feel better.

“You’re not a burden, never have been, and never will be, do you hear me?”

“But…”

“No, no buts,” he squeezed your hands even tighter, firmly yet gently. “I choose to be here with you. There hasn’t been a single time I’ve felt forced, believe me. I just…” he sighed, pausing for a moment and trying to modulate his words before saying something he might regret, “there’s nowhere else and no other person I’d rather be with right now.”

You smiled, so faintly it almost went unnoticed.

“Can I?” He whispered, and you nodded, not even knowing what he wanted to do. He let go of one of your hands and placed his palm on your face, while his thumb dried your tears, first one cheek, then the other.

Jay couldn’t stop looking at you; despite your red eyes and your tears, you were still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

A warm feeling took over him as he noticed the way you leaned into his touch. “Can I hold you? Just for a little bit.” He then murmured, almost in a whisper.

“Please,” you responded immediately, without any hesitation.

He let out a small smile and moved next to you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, your forehead pressing into his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater like it was the only real thing in the room.

Jay exhaled, long and quiet, his chin resting against the top of your head. “I've got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”

He stayed like that, unmoving, breathing with you, letting the weight of you settle against him like it belonged there.

His free hand continued to absentmindedly caress your hair, your face as you sat there in the bathroom, the cold floor and the icy wall behind you.

There was a moment of silence, a silence filled, however, by Jay’s racing mind, by his breathing, trying to regulate it, as if he was afraid you’d escape if he breathed wrong.

He hugged you and held you in a way that made it seem like he needed it more than you, and maybe, in a way, he did.

He tried to focus on something else, on anything else unrelated, but he couldn’t, not when your scent was overwhelming his senses, not when the smell of your shampoo filled his nostrils, not when your arms were so tight around him, as if he was your lifeline.

He didn’t want to think too much because if he did, he’d lose the grip he’d fought so hard to maintain.

This, however, wasn’t new; he’d spent years doing it. Because he cared long before all this happened, long before the fear, the panic, the nights spent with you. And, to be precise, it wasn’t your fear or your panic, but his.

He was terrified to lose you, terrified anything might happen to you, terrified to even know you’re hurt. That’s why he was always there, not because he had to, but because he wanted it, he needed it.

He’d always had a strong sense of protection for you, right from the start, and it was obvious to everyone. Whatever happened, whether it was interrogating a suspect, going to shady places, he made sure you came first.

He’d wondered why, so many times, why he was like this with you, but he’d simply buried this question, telling himself it was just partnership, loyalty, friendship. He’d buried it under jokes, quips, his teasing until you went crazy.

It was easier that way. But ever since that night... Damn, Jay couldn’t find peace, he couldn’t forget the terror on your face when he opened his door, when he saw you soaked, hurt. The panic and fear he felt in that moment, God, were something that would scar him forever.

He wanted nothing more than to lock you in a glass bubble, so he’d always know you were safe, and it killed him knowing he couldn’t do that, knowing how much you were suffering and not being unable to protect you.

And now, with you in his arms, so vulnerable, Jay struggled. All of his careful compartments had collapsed into one unbearable truth: he’d been lying to himself.

He hugged you a little tighter, pulling you closer.

Jay swallowed hard.

If things had been different, if Kane had never happened, he would’ve kept pretending, kept the distance, kept the line clean and untouched, as he had always done in all the years since he’d known you.

And he hated that it took this, he hated that your pain had dragged the truth into the light.

Because loving you hadn’t started with Kane, no, he had just made it impossible to ignore.

He shifted slightly, as if this thought prevented him from staying still. He had to do something, he had to distract himself or he’d end up ruining everything, and you didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t right, not with what you were going through.

“If I could carry this for you,” he said, his voice low, controlled but thick with something he didn’t name, “I would. In a heartbeat.” He didn’t expect a response; to be honest, he wasn’t even asking for one.

“I know,” you whispered back, and your arms tightened. “I would do the same for you.”

Jay closed his eyes, his heart beating so hard it almost burst out of his chest. He wanted to scream, cry, break something because he was overwhelmed, overwhelmed by his feelings, by what you were doing to him.

Without even thinking about it, he lowered his head and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your forehead. It was gone almost as soon as it happened, that kind of touch that felt instinctive rather than intentional, but he had to do it, he needed it.

He froze for half a second after realizing his gesture. He held his breath, ready to pull back, to apologize, to pretend it hadn’t happened, but you didn’t pull away, instead, you wrapped your arms a little bit tighter around him.

So, he stayed.

And that scared him more than anything else.

“We should get back,” you said, after a while, breaking away from the embrace. Since when had your absence caused him such an emptiness? Since when not being able to hug you anymore disappointed him so much?

“How are you feeling now?”

“I can’t lie to you, I… I don’t feel good thinking about him being out there somewhere… But I’m better now.”

“We’ll get that son of a bitch, I promise.”

You smiled faintly. “I know.”

Jay stood up and offered you a hand to help you, which you immediately grabbed.

He unlocked the door, and you were about to leave when you grabbed his hand this time.

He looked at you with a confused look on his face, which quickly turned to utter shock when you leaned toward him and pressed your lips on his cheek.

More than astonishment, he almost had a heart attack, and he wasn’t even exaggerating.

“Thank you, Jay… For everything. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He didn’t breathe, didn’t move, he stared at you blankly for a few moments before realizing he had to speak. “A-anytime,” he stuttered, fucking stuttered.

You nodded once and, after opening the door, went back toward the bullpen.

And Jay stayed where he was for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the door pretending like you didn’t just shift the entire axis of his world.

It wasn’t even a kiss, more like a light touch. Your lips barely brushed his cheek, too fast for even his brain to register, but it was enough to set his skin on fire, it was enough to destroy that entire wall that so hard he had put up to.

His chest tightened painfully, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar since he met you.

He could still feel the ghost of it, the warmth, the softness, right there, just under his cheekbone, like his skin had already memorized it.

Jay swallowed hard.

Don’t read into it, he told himself immediately.

Don’ turn this into something it’s not.

She’s fragile. She’s grateful. That’s all.

His heart was hammering now, loud and reckless, and there was a sharp, familiar ache behind his ribs, something he was terrified to name.

He forced himself to stay still, to keep his expression neutral, even if every instinct screamed to reach for you, to pull you back, to hold you so tightly to him, to kiss you until he stole your last breath.

Instead, he grounded himself the only way he knew.

Control.

But God, if he hadn’t already been in too deep, that little kiss would’ve pushed him there.

When you returned to the bullpen, the rest of the team was there discussing the case, Kane. As soon as they saw you—Jay just few steps behind you—they stopped talking and watched you for a moment.

“Everything alright?” Voight asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, I’m sorry, everything’s fine.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jay approach the whiteboard, positioning himself next to it, his eyes only on you.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, kid,” Voight continued, sighing, and you immediately understood where he was going with this. He knew the whole Kane thing; besides Jay, he was the only person on the team who knew. “But you can understand that you can’t work on this case since you’re personally involved.”

You exchanged a fleeting glance with Jay, as if asking for help, but no help came. Rationally, you understood, you would’ve said the same thing if you were Voight, but on the other hand, you hated being sidelined.

“I can help, boss. It’s clear that whatever he’s up to is against me and…”

“Absolutely not,” Jay intervened, his tone so resolute and authoritative that even you froze, “we won’t use you as bait, forget it. We’ll come up with a plan to find him.”

“He’s right,” Adam continued, “it’s too dangerous, we can’t give him what he wants on a silver platter.”

“Go home,” Voight resumed, “you’ll have protection 24/7, and we’ll keep you updated on anything. Try to get some rest.”

You sighed, resigned, knowing you’d never win this battle. You nodded and, without another word, grabbed your bag.

“I’ll walk you out,” Jay had said, but you didn’t respond, simply walking toward the exit.

The walk to your car was silent, that heavy silence you weren’t used to anymore, especially with Jay.

“I know you don’t like the idea of being off the case,” he spoke first when you reached your car, “and you know how much I hate to say it, but Voight is right.”

“I know he’s right, but it pisses me off anyway.”

“I hate that you have to stay home alone, I wish you’d stay here so I could always know you’re safe…”

“…But I’m not focused enough to stay here, yes, I know, I get it,” you finished the sentence for him.

“Hey,” he pressed again, stepping fully into your space, careful but firm, forcing you to stop. “Look at me.”

You hesitated for a second, jaw tight, then finally lifted your eyes to his.

“I know you’re mad,” Jay said quietly. “And I know it feels like we’re taking something away from you. But this…” he gestured vaguely back toward the building, “It’s about keeping you safe, that’s our number one priority.”

You scoffed softly, shaking your head. “You say it like I’m made of glass.”

“No,” he replied immediately. “I say it like you’ve already been through enough.”

That stopped you, his words landing better than you expected. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, your stomach twisting in pain. “You think I don’t know that?” you asked, voice lower now. “But I feel useless… I’ll just be sitting home while you’re all out there hunting him down… I…”

Jay exhaled slowly, like he was choosing his next words. “You’re not useless,” he spoke. “But Kane is unpredictable, and if there’s even the smallest chance he’d come after you—”

“He already did,” you interrupted, sharp. “And I survived.”

Jay’s jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he said, low. “And I’m not letting him get another chance.”

The finality in his tone sent a chill through you.

You studied his face for a moment, the tightness around his eyes, the way his shoulders were held too rigid, the way he never for a second stopped looking at you.

“Jay…” you started, then stopped, unsure of what you were even trying to say.

“I need you to promise me something,” he said.

You frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Humor me,” he replied, almost gently. “If anything feels off, anything, you call me. Doesn’t matter the time or what I’m doing. You call me and I’ll be there.”

“I will.”

“No, you won’t, not when I’m working on this case, so please promise me.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

Something in him eased, just a fraction, but it wasn’t enough, it was like he wasn’t believing you.

You reached for your car door, then paused. Your hand hovered there for a second before dropping back to your side.

“Jay,” you said again, softer now. “Thank you again. For earlier. For… Everything.”

He looked at you like he wanted to say a thousand things and didn't trust himself with any of them. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied.

“I know,” you said. And then, almost without thinking, you reached for his hand, for the second time that day, with an ease that scared you to death.

Just briefly. Just enough for your fingers to curl around his, warm and grounding.

His breath caught, barely audible.

“Please be careful,” you added quietly. You were about to let go of his hand when his fingers grabbed yours again, squeezing them tighter than you did.

“I will,” he answered, “you too, and if you don’t want to call just text me, please, I can’t focus if I don’t know you’re okay.”

These words managed to further open the chasm that you carried around for too long.

“I will, I promise,” and this time, you truly meant it.

You let go of his hand and you were about to open your car door, when he preceded you and do it for you. You smiled and slid inside before he closed it.

As you drove away, you didn’t look back.

You didn’t see the way Jay stayed there long after you were gone, his chest tight with a feeling he couldn’t shake, his hand still hot from your touch.

You didn’t know that sending you home hadn’t made him feel better at all; instead, it had only made him scared he was running out of time.

Your apartment was too quiet, too calm, and for some strange reason, you hated it.

Your mind was in complete turmoil, you couldn’t think clearly, you couldn’t concentrate on one thing before the thought ended up on something else.

You carelessly dropped your bag on the ground, taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure. You tried to focus on the background noises, the distant noise of passing cars, the soft hum of the refrigerator, your own breathing which was louder than anything else.

You told yourself you were fine.

You weren’t spiraling. You weren’t panicking. You were just… Tired.

After kicking off your shoes, you moved through the apartment on autopilot, locking the door, checking the windows. Once. Then twice even if the police officers outside your door already did it.

It annoyed you how natural it had become.

You sank onto the couch and pressed your palms into your eyes, breathing out slowly. Your therapist’s voice echoed faintly in your head—Name what you’re feeling. Don’t run from it.

Fear.

Anger.

Frustration.

And something else you didn’t want to unpack.

Jay’s face kept intruding in your thoughts. The way he looked at you in the parking lot, the way his hand felt, solid, steady, like something you could anchor yourself to, the way he hugged you in that cold bathroom when you were falling apart.

Your chest tightened again, breath catching just slightly.

Not again.

You focused, counted your breaths until the pressure eased, focused on the things surrounding you.

You went to your bedroom and pulled a box you kept under the bed that contained several files, all the documents that related to Kane’s case, that box you managed not to open it in weeks.

You stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding.

You returned to the living room, setting the box on the coffee table, fingers trembling only a little as you lifted the lid.

Reports. Photos. Timelines. Notes you’d written years ago when you first worked on his case, in a handwriting that didn’t quite look like yours anymore.

You flipped through them slowly and the phone buzzed on the table. You froze, and for half a second, terror took hold of you, irrational and sharp, before you forced yourself to look.

A message.

From Jay:

You home?

Your breath left you all at once, fear replaced by relief.

To Jay:

Yeah, I’m okay. Just working through some stuff.

Three dots appeared, disappeared and then appeared again.

From Jay:

Don’t push yourself.

To Jay:

I won’t. How are things going over there?

From Jay:

We’re working on it, I’ll let you know if we find anything.

You knew full well this would never happen, and you didn’t know how to feel about it, whether relieved or irritated.

To Jay:

Okay. Be careful.

You set the phone face down and decided to take a quick shower before going back to the files, the papers spread out like a chaotic map of Kane’s crimes.

Every detail, every report, every photo you’d stored a hundred times before, was there in front of you. You weren’t supposed to be working on this case, but you couldn’t stop, you couldn’t just let it go.

Your fingers traced over his old movements, his connections, the patterns of his violence. It should’ve been easier, after all these years, but your stomach twisted every time you read his name. The memories you’d tried so hard to lock away poked at the edges of your mind… The panic, the terror, the knife.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stay focused.

Five things you can see… Four you can touch… Three you can hear…

The hours passed in tense quiet, the sun dipped lower outside, shadows creeping across the floor, and still, you worked, because if you didn’t, the panic would’ve left you no escape.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered where Jay was, what was he doing? Did he find something? Was he thinking about you?

He was indeed thinking about you; in fact, you were the only thought that crossed his mind.

That, and finding that son of a bitch, that’s why he was outside a motel, breathing fast and his hand on his gun.

It was now almost 1:00 a.m. Voight had forced everyone to take a break, but Jay refused, continuing to work alone on any clues. He had found a lead, a guy who had reported that a man—who Jay had then immediately identified as Marcus Kane’s brother—had paid cash for a fake passport.

Kane’s face was all over the news and when Jay answered a call from an anonymous caller who was sure they’d seen the fugitive heading to a motel, he couldn’t help but investigate.

The motel looked like it hadn’t seen maintenance since the late nineties. One flickering neon sign buzzed weakly above the entrance, half the letters burned out, the word 'MOTEL' reduced to a 'M—EL'. Paint peeled from the railings, cigarettes littered the ground, and the smell of damp concrete and old smoke hung heavy in the air.

Exactly the kind of place someone like Kane would choose to hide.

Jay stayed in his car for a moment longer, engine off, headlights dark. He scanned the second floor, eyes narrowing when he spotted a faint light bleeding through the curtains of one room at the far end. Room 217.

His jaw clenched.

He should’ve waited, should’ve called for backup, he knew he had to let Voight know he had a possible location. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be there alone, that it could’ve been all a setup.

But he wasn’t thinking rationally, all he could see was you, curled up on yourself, shaking, crying, fighting for air. All he could hear was your broken voice asking why.

He didn’t have time, Marcus could escape while waiting for reinforcements and it was an option that Jay would’ve never given up on.

He stepped out of the car quietly, gun drawn, keeping close to the shadows as he crossed the lot. His heart hammered against his ribs, every muscle taut, every sense sharpened. Years of training guided his movements, but beneath it all there was only anger.

There was no one around anymore, just him—-to be honest he didn’t even know if there was a living soul in that place—so he moved as quiet as possible as he took the stairs, slowly, stopping just before the second floor.

He listened.

Muffled footsteps.

Jay’s grip tightened on the gun.

He moved down the walkway, back to the wall, breathing slow and controlled. As he passed each door, his thoughts kept betraying him, slipping back to you.

He already knew you’d kick his ass for ignoring your messages, but he couldn’t tell you where he was, not without putting you in danger. He knew that at the slightest opportunity, Marcus wouldn’t miss a chance to kill you.

And it was a thought Jay didn’t even subconsciously want to formulate.

He stopped in front of the door.

The cheap wood was scuffed, the lock old. No sound now from inside. Maybe Kane was asleep. Maybe he was waiting.

Jay raised his hand, hesitating for just a fraction of a second.

He tried the handle and, to his surprise, it was unlocked. He didn’t give it much thought, the adrenaline coursing through his veins just at the thought of catching that bastard.

But if he’d been concentrated enough, controlled enough, he would’ve known it was too easy to find Kane, that something was undoubtedly wrong.

Every instinct screamed at him, but he pushed the door open anyway, gun leading the way. The room was dim, lit only by the bathroom light left on. Clothes were scattered on the bed, a half-packed duffel bag on the floor.

“Chicago PD,” Jay called out, voice low but firm. “Marcus Kane. It’s over.”

For a split second, there was only silence.

Then out of the corner of his eye, Jay saw movement, fast, too fast.

He barely had time to react before something—or rather, someone—slammed into him from the side, knocking him hard against the dresser. His gun clattered to the floor, skidding under the bed.

Kane had been waiting.

And Jay realized, too late, that this was no longer an arrest, that he was going to fight for his life.

Kane immediately threw himself on him, without even giving Jay time to get up to his feet and react. A fist hit him full in the face, hot and harp, sending him crashing against the wall. For a moment, he was short of breath, but it wasn’t the time to think; he just had to act.

“Not exactly who I was expecting to be honest, but I guess it’ll do,” Kane sneered, his face twisting into something sinister.

Jay froze for half a second, and then it hit him. Why was it so easy to track him down, why was he was found so quickly. He was waiting for YOU.

“She’s always been a stubborn woman, I figured—”

But Jay didn’t let him finish his sentence; he threw himself on Kane, grabbing him by the collar of his filthy, crumpled shirt. He punched him square in the face, then another, before pressing his forearm against Kane’s throat, nearly cutting off his airway.

The latter wheezed, but that wasn’t enough to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

“Talk about her again and I’ll make you suffer like you never did,” Jay spat a millimeter from his face.

“I knew she’d come eventually. Couldn’t help herself. Always trying to be brave.”

Something inside Jay snatched.

He punched Kane once, twice, again, knuckles splitting, blood slicking his fingers, though he was totally oblivious to the pain. Kane collapsed to the floor with a grunt, coughing hard, but still laughing.

“You think sending her home kept her safe?” Kane taunted between gasps. He spat on the ground, a mix of blood and saliva, then wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. “I left traces…” he breathed heavily, “I wanted her to find me… I wanted to see the look on her face when she realized I wasn’t done with her yet.”

Jay tackled him.

They hit the floor hard, the motel bed creaking under the impact. He straddled Kane, fists raining down, every blow driven by a single, horrifying image of you walking in here, alone, what Kane was going to do to you.

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed in his face, “you’ll fucking pay for everything you put her through!”

Kane twisted beneath him, suddenly desperate, hand flashing between them.

Jay didn’t see Kane grabbing the knife from his pants pocket, not until it was already sinking into his flash.

Pain exploded through him, blinding and white-hot.

He gasped, hands faltering just long enough for Kane to shove him off. Jay stumbled back, one hand instinctively pressing to his abdomen, coming away soaked in blood.

Kane dragged himself upright, swaying, smiling through bloodied teeth.

“Guess I still win,” he said. “Either way… She loses. Man, I can't wait to see her face when she finds you.”

Jay completely lost his mind, like he never did before.

He lunged again, ignoring the agony tearing through his body, thanks to the adrenaline that flowed in rivers through his veins, slamming Kane into the wall, then the floor.

The knife clattered away somewhere out of reach.

Jay didn’t stop, he couldn’t.

Every punch was fueled by terror, by guilt, by the unbearable thought that it could’ve been you.

He had lost count of the punches he’d landed, ignoring the pain each blow inflicted, the blood seeping from his wound, ignoring the sound of Kane’s skull being smashed against the dirt floor of that motel.

Jay ignored everything until Kane stopped struggling.

He froze, chest heaving, staring down at him, eyes open but now lifeless, his body still.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

I just killed Marcus Kane.

Jay staggered back, vision blurring, blood soaking through his shirt and dripping onto the carpet. He braced himself against the wall, breathing shallow and uneven, his forehead covered in sweat.

She was supposed to come here.

He slid down the wall, leaving a smear of blood behind him, shaking now, not from the pain, but from the horror of how close you’d come.

He reached for his phone from his pocket when—with horror—he realized he’d left it in the car.

He was tired, exhausted, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but he had to call for help, or he’d bleed to death there, on that filthy floor, alone.

God, he wanted you, he wanted you there, so bad he couldn’t breathe.

The strength continued to slowly leave his body, but despite this, he didn’t give up. He tried to stand up, leaning against the wall.

He kept pressing on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but his grip was too weak, almost useless. He managed to take a few steps before collapsing again.

This time, however, he couldn’t get up

But suddenly—after an infinite amount of time—he heard footsteps coming from outside the room, and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating.

He wasn’t used to praying, but in that moment, he did, he prayed to see you. He winced again in pain as he tried to get up again, but to no avail.

“Jay?”.

A voice reached his ears from afar, but he smiled despite this because he would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, even among a million people. He wanted to scream so badly, to tell you he was there, but he couldn’t, only faint whispers escaped his lips.

Staying awake was becoming increasingly hard, every breath felt like another stab, but he fought to keep his eyes open, because if he was to die that night, you were the last person he wanted to see.

You didn’t receive any answer but, on the other hand, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to hear it yourself since the loud pounding of your heart was deafening you.

You continued walking down the silent corridor with your gun pointed forward, terrified of what lay ahead.

But something immediately caught your attention. The hallway was dark, except for one room, whose light illuminated a small section.

You quickly approached it, and when you entered the room, your worst nightmare, your greatest fear, just became real.

Jay was lying on the floor, covered in blood, barely conscious.

You immediately put the gun back in its holster before grabbing your cell phone and dropping to your knees beside him.

“Hey, hey, hey, Jay, stay with me please. I’m calling for help,” you spoke before quickly calling for backup and an ambulance.

Your cell phone landed on the floor, your hands on his face as you slightly shook him. “Please stay awake for me, okay? Don’t fall asleep, the ambulance is on the way, please, Jay…”

He muttered something you couldn’t understand, and your heart broke when you saw that small smile on his lips, as if he’d just realized you were really there.

“It’s going to hurt a little, but I have to do it, okay? I have to stop the bleeding,” you quickly took off your jacket and pressed it firmly against his wound, your insides twisting as you saw his beautiful face contorted in pain.

Your vision was blurred by the tears you hadn’t realized were pouring like a raging river. “I know, I know…” you sniffed. “I’m so sorry, God, I’m so sorry…”

“H-hey…” he murmured.

You smiled at him, through your tears. “Hey baby, I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay… I’m not leaving you…” With one hand, you stroked his face and hair, while the other continued to hold the now bloody jacket firmly over his wound.

“You… You’re h-here…” he continued to breathe heavily, as if every word he said was torture.

“Shh, it’s okay… it’s okay… Yeah, I’m here… Please stay with me, okay? Don’t leave me, Jay, I’m beginning you…” you literally sobbed, feeling your heart being ripped out with every second that passed.

“Help!” you screamed, the sound ripping out of your chest, raw and unfiltered. “HELP—PLEASE, SOMEBODY!”

Nothing.

The silence was underpinned only by your sobs and Jay’s heavy breathing.

Your voice echoed down the empty motel walkway, bouncing off cracked concrete and empty rooms. No doors opened. No one came.

“Help us!” you cried again, hysterical, your throat already burning. “Please—he’s bleeding… Someone help me!”

“No… No, no, no…” you blurted out, shaking your head as if refusing to accept it could somehow change the outcome. You pressed both hands harder against his wound, desperate, ignoring the way his blood soaked your palms, your skin. “Stay with me, Jay. Stay with me, please—please…”

Your hands slipped. You couldn’t stop the bleeding. You couldn’t fix this. Panic clawed up your throat, sharp and uncontrollable.

“I can’t do this without you,” you choked. “You don’t get to leave me here alone, you hear me? You promised me.”

His face was so pale, sweat slicking his skin, but his eyes, God, his beautiful eyes, were still on you, or at least, he tried.

“I… I didn’t… I… Want you t-to see this,” he whispered, a faint, crooked ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t care,” you cried, shaking your head as tears spilled freely, falling onto his chest. “I don’t care about that. I just need you alive. I need you to stay with me, please Jay, don’t do this to me.”

He closed his eyes and the fear and panic no longer made you think.

“No, no, no, please… Hey, open your eyes, you hear me? Eyes on me baby, please stay awake.”

Your chest hurt, your lungs burned like a forest on fire. You couldn’t get enough air, like the panic was trying to drag you under again, only this time it was worse because it wasn’t just your fear anymore.

It was about him.

He shifted weakly beneath you, a pained sound slipping past his lips, his eyelids struggling to stay open. He was struggling, so damn much and you couldn’t do anything to help him.

“I can’t lose you,” you cried, the words spilling out without permission, without thought. “I can’t… I won’t survive.”

You leaned closer, forehead pressed to his, tears dripping down your cheeks, onto his skin, onto the blood you were desperately trying to stop.

“I love you,” you sobbed, the words ripped straight from your chest, so messy and broken. “I love you so much Jay… Please, I need you to stay. Please. Please stay with me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, it felt like the world stopped.

You hadn’t planned to say it, not like that, but it was true, and it had been true long before this moment.

His breath stuttered. His fingers twitched weakly against your sleeve, as if anchoring himself to you was the only thing keeping him here, his eyes searching your face.

“I wanted to… To… Protect you…” he coughed. “He… He won’t hurt you again…” he whispered again, voice rough, strained. It was only then that you noticed that body in the room, that now lifeless body, belonging to the person who had ruined you the most.

But you didn’t care. You felt nothing about it. You just wanted to save Jay.

“I l—…” he continued but the words died in his throat, his eyes fluttered.

“Jay? Jay!” Panic ripped through you again. “Jay… Oh my god… No, no, no, please… Open your eyes, stay with me.”

But his grip loosened, his head rolled slightly to the side.

“Jay!” you screamed, terror tearing straight through your chest. You pressed harder against the wound, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please… Please wake up… Talk to me…Please I need you.”

You screamed for help again, voice hoarse, desperate, echoing uselessly through the empty motel hallway.

Sirens cut through the night like a lifeline and you were never so relieved to hear that sound.

You barely registered the sound at first, too busy counting his breaths, begging him under your breath not to leave you, but then the flashing red and blue lights painted the motel walls, and you subbed in relief so hard it hurt.

“They’re here,” you whispered frantically, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “Jay, baby, they’re here. You hear me? You’re gonna be okay.”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallways and suddenly the room was full, paramedics, lights, movement, orders being barked back and forth.

They stabilized him, then lifted him onto the stretcher, and you followed their every move, refusing to leave him alone for even a moment.

“Jay, please, stay with me,” you whispered, your eyes always on him, almost the entire way to the hospital. You wanted to grab his hand so badly, hoping he could hear you, know you were by his side and you’d never leave him. “Don’t leave me…”

“He’ll be okay, right? Will he make it?” You asked louder, not taking your eyes off his unconscious body, terrified of the answer.

“He’ll need a transfusion and surgery right away,” the paramedic replied, without actually giving you an answer, and for some other reason, this hurt even more. “Do you happen to know his blood type, ma’am?”

“A positive,” you replied, without even thinking.

This thought made you freeze for a moment. Damn, you even knew his blood type, how could you deny that you didn’t love him all this time?

His chest rose shallowly beneath the oxygen mask, each breath uneven. The monitor beside him beeped steadily, maybe too fast, his blood pressure too low.

“I love you,” you whispered again. “Don’t leave me please.”

That ambulance ride was the longest of your life, and even though it was traveling above the legal limit, it still felt like it was going too slow for you.

When the ambulance slowed suddenly, then finally stopped, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’re here.”

The doors flew open and cold night air rushed in. Hands moved everywhere at once, lifting him, pulling, and suddenly he was rolling away from you.

“No, no” you said immediately, panic exploding again in your chest. You stumbled after them as they rushed him through the ER doors. “I’m here, I’m with him… I need to be with him…”

“Miss, you need to stay back,” someone said, firm but not unkind. “Let us do our job.”

You reached for him anyway, fingers brushing his hand just before they pulled the stretcher farther ahead.

They pushed through the doors to the trauma bay and they slammed shut in your face.

And you lost it.

You sobbed, chest heaving as the weight of it all crashed down on you at once.

You looked at your hands, the blood on your hands, on your clothes—damn, it felt unreal, like none of this could possibly be happening. How could this be reality? How had you gone, in the space of a single day, from hugging each other to praying with every fiber of your being that he would survive?

You slid down the wall slowly, knees hitting the floor as another sob tore out of you.

You really couldn’t believe this was really happening. You couldn’t conceive the thought that you might actually never see him again, you couldn’t accept that the one time in your life you’d had the courage to tell him you loved him was because he was hurt.

What if it was the last time you spoke to him?

What if it was the last time you held his hand?

What if it was the last time you hugged him?

You shook your head as if trying to push that thought away. Jay wouldn’t give up, he was strong, he could handle this too.

The noise around you only made you more unsettled, too many footsteps, too many people talking, too many bells and monitors ringing, too much light—God, you couldn’t take it anymore.

The mere thought of him being there, only a few steps away from you, that only a door separated you, but you couldn’t be there for him devastated you.

“Miss.”

A voice in the distance called you.

“Miss.”

They insisted.

It was only when you felt a hand on your shoulder that you jumped, finding a nurse staring at you with a worried look.

“How is he? Is he okay? Is he awake?” You asked immediately, snapping to attention.

“They’re about to take him to surgery,” she replied, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

It was clear she was referring to the blood on you. The blood of the person you loved.

You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek.

“Do you want to call someone?” She continued, looking at you with eyes full of pity and sadness, before handing you a handkerchief, which you immediately accepted.

“Um… No… I…” you sniffed, reaching for your cell phone. Only when you felt your pockets being empty you remembered throwing it on the floor in that damned motel. “Actually, yes, I… I forgot my phone. Thank you.”

She smiled kindly. “I’ll be right back, but first, let’s get on the chair here, okay?”

You nodded and stood up, then immediately sat down on one of the various chairs in the emergency room hallway.

“Can I get you something else?”

You shook your head.

“Okay, I’ll be right back with a phone.”

You called Voight, trying to explain the situation as best you could, trying to be as clear-headed as possible, even though you probably sounded like a robot. He said he’d be right there with the others, and you responded only with a feeble “okay” after telling him which hospital you were in.

You thanked the nurse before handing her back the phone, accepting the bottle of water she had, despite everything, brought you.

A lump rose in your throat, suffocating.

You couldn’t even cry anymore.

You wanted to scream, break something, run into the OR just to catch a glimpse of him. Instead, you remained there, helpless, broken, your heart beating too hard and too slow at the same time.

Time lost meaning.

You didn’t know how long you sat there staring into space, maybe minutes, maybe hours, before you felt a presence beside you.

You looked up with difficulty.

Voight.

He didn’t say anything at first, he just stood there, eyes scanning your face, the blood on your clothes, the way your hands trembled faintly in your lap. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

For a moment, you wondered if he was waiting for you to speak. You tried, but you couldn’t. You just stared at him as if you said the words out loud, they’d become real.

“He’s in surgery,” you finally whispered, voice hoarse, barely more than air. “They took him in a few minutes ago.”

Voight nodded once, slow before sitting down next to you. “I know.”

Your chest caved in.

“I was supposed to stay home,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I know you told me to stay home and I tried, I swear I tried but I just…” Your breath hitched. "I had this feeling. Like something was wrong..."

You broke off, shaking your head. “If I’d gotten there sooner,” you murmured. “If I—”

Voight interrupted you. “Listen to me kid,” he said quietly, but firmly enough that you had no choice but to look at him. “None of this is your fault.”

Your eyes burned. “He went alone.”

“He went alone because he wanted to protect you,” Voight replied. “Because that’s who he is, the only thing he cares about is you.”

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

You pressed your lips together, fighting the sob that threatened to tear you open again. “He was bleeding so much,” you whispered. “He tried to stand t-to talk. I thought…” Your voice cracked. “I thought I was going to lose him right there.”

Voight’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “But you didn’t and you won’t.” He rested his forearms on his knees, mirroring your posture. “The doctors are good. This hospital’s one of the best. If anyone can pull him back from the edge, it’s them.”

You nodded weakly, though hope felt like something dangerous now.

“The rest of the team are on their way,” he added. “You’re not doing this alone, he won’t be alone.”

You swallowed hard. “I told him I love him,” you said suddenly, the confession tumbling out. “I don’t know if he heard me. I don’t know if…”

Your throat closed but Voight didn’t look surprised, instead, he nodded again, slower this time. “He heard you,” he said simply. “Even if he couldn’t answer. He knows.”

That almost broke you completely.

You buried your face in your hands as silent tears slipped through your fingers.

Minutes and minutes passed and the rest of the team arrived, though you weren’t in the right mind to talk to any of them.

Hours and hours passed.

Hours in which you had done nothing but torment yourself and pray from him. You cleaned your face and your hands, though your clothes still bore the weight of that horrible night.

Then footsteps approached.

A doctor emerged from the double doors, mask pulled down around her neck, eyes searching the hallway. Your head snapped up instantly, heart slamming against your ribs.

The doctor’s gaze landed on all of you as you approached. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” you answered, and even if it wasn’t true, the doctor immediately knew from your gaze you’d never let go.

The doctor nodded once. “He’s still in surgery,” she said. “It was a severe abdominal wound. He lost a lot of blood and we had to transfuse two bags of blood.”

Your stomach dropped and you stopped breathing for a second.

“But,” she continued, carefully, “he made it through the first critical phase. The next few hours will be fundamental.”

You exhaled shakily, legs threatening to give out beneath you.

“He’s alive,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

“For now,” the doctor said gently. “But he’s fighting.”

And that’s exactly what he did. He was truly fighting.

For the next two hours, you kept pacing back and forth in that waiting room. The rest of the team was there, but no one spoke. The anxiety was too much, the worry overwhelming.

When the surgeon finally announced that the surgery was over and he’d be taken to intensive care, you literally felt the ground disappear beneath your feet.

You hated hospitals, you hated the smell that hung in the air, you hated the sound of that monitor, you hated knowing that there were people fighting for their lives, you hated knowing that your Jay was there.

You found yourself outside his room, your body shaking, your heart pounding.

You couldn’t find the courage to go in, to see him like that. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You took a deep breath before taking a step, then another. When your eyes landed on Jay, it was like the air had been knocked from your lungs. God, a punch would’ve hurt less.

He was lying on that bed, his eyes closed as if he was simply sleeping, his oxygen on, the monitor echoing with his steady heartbeat. His chest was rising and falling, slowly, too delicately.

You approached his bed, your breath involuntarily held, walking so slowly as if you were afraid of waking him. Your fingers hovered for a few seconds over his hand, barely touching it, before you took it, and, God, what a relief it was to feel his warm skin against yours.

His angelic face was relaxed, but it was surrounded by the purple bruise that marked his fight with Kane.

He’s dead, he can’t hurt anyone anymore.

With your free hand, you slowly caressed his cheek, delicately, scared at the thought of hurting him. Your fingers brushed his hair, hoping somehow, he could feel it.

You leaned in slightly and gently pressed your lips on his forehead, leaving a small, sweet kiss, just like he had done in that bathroom not so many hours before.

“I’m here, I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, “You’ll be fine, everything will be fine.”

You sat next to him, on a chair in the room, and grabbed his hand, kissing it, holding it close to your face.

You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know how to behave and not being able to do anything to help him was destroying you, making you feel more useless than ever before.

You had heard somewhere that talking could help patients, they could hear you even if they were unconscious, and that’s what you did.

“I’m so sorry, Jay,” you began. “It’s all my fault, this…” you sighed, trying to hold back the tears but failing miserably, “This shouldn’t have happened, not to you… I—”

You paused for a second, trying to reconnect your thoughts.

“I really don’t know where to start, I want to tell you so many things…” you kissed his hand again, “First I want to say thank you, I know I’ve already said this, but thank you, truly, for everything you’ve done for me, for being there for me in the worst moments, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Your voice broke at the last words, your hand slightly squeezing his, trying to hold on to him because, if you hadn’t, you would’ve collapsed.

“It’s always been you,” you continued, “always, even when I pretended it wasn’t, even when I tried to convince myself it was just friendship and partnership… All these years, God… I’ve been so stupid, such a coward…” you took a deep breath “I’m so sorry, Jay, you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to hear me say I love you in THAT moment, not in that way, but I just…” a tear rolled down your face, “I love you so much…”

“I tried to convince myself it was just the trauma, but it was a lie because every time I look at you, I know what I feel goes way beyond that, it’s something so deep I can’t even explain it,” you shook your head slightly, “up until now, I’ve lied to myself and preferred living the lie rather than facing the fear of ruining everything, but now… Now I don’t want to hide anymore, I love you so much it terrifies me, I don’t know what to do.”

Your thumb caressed his bruised knuckles, and it was another stab in the stomach.

“I should’ve told you before, I know,” you continued, “I should’ve told you when we were bickering over coffee, when you teased me about my tea collection, when you pulled all those pranks on me, when you smile at me, when you laugh until you lose your breath…” you stopped speaking when another uncontrollable sob escaped your lips.

“But I need you to wake up, baby, please, I need you so much. You always said I was strong, that I had armor, but the truth is, I was because of you, because you were always there beside me no matter what happened, you always helped me get up without saying anything and you always did it without making me feel like a burden and now…” you sniffed, your vision now blurry from the tears, “Now look at you… You’re here because of me…”

You slightly leaned forward, your cheek hovering close to his hand while still keeping your gaze on him.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself, how I’ll ever live with the fact that you got hurt because of me. You always protected me, and when I should’ve protected you, I failed, and I’m so sorry, baby, I hope you’ll forgive me…”

There was another moment of silence.

“Please come back to me… I can’t live without you, Jay, I don’t know how to be in this world without you… Without you making my life impossible, without you forcing me to watch those stupid action movies only you like, without you making me feel so safe with just a hug. I can’t imagine going to work and not finding you sitting at your desk, with a pre-made donut you saved just for me even though you always say it’s not, without you making fun of my handwriting…” You chuckled bitterly as your mind replayed all those moments, moments you would’ve sold your soul to relive. “So, wake up, Halstead, you understand me? You need to wake up.”

You remained silent for an indefinite time, sitting there next to him for all the hours that followed, even after the sun had risen, even when the others tried to convince you to go and rest, but you refused to move.

The hours passed, sometimes you continued talking to him, other times you simply looked at him, in silence, your hand always in his while your thumb drew imaginary circles on his skin.

At some point, your voice gave out completely.

Your head dropped forward, resting against the edge of the bed, forehead brushing his knuckles. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, you didn’t mean to, you just remembered that exhaustion took over at a certain point, quietly, while your fingers were still intertwined with his.

Pain.

This was what Jay felt when his eyelids opened slightly. He blinked once, twice, three times, trying to adjust to the blinding light in that room.

The events of the previous evening flooded his mind like a raging river, so it didn’t take him long to realize he was in a hospital bed.

He tried to move but couldn’t, not even when he tried to convince his body to do it.

He felt heavy, all his muscles ached, his throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper was rubbing against him.

He tried to lift his hand but couldn’t, and it was only when he looked down at the figure next to him that he understood why he couldn’t.

His heart sank when he saw you curled up in the chair, head resting on his hand, fingers intertwined, eyes closed.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes again and opened them again, before looking back at you, and to his great relief, you were still there.

He wasn’t hallucinating, he wasn’t dreaming, you were really there, next to him.

His fingers twitched weakly against yours, and this simple movement was enough to wake you. Your head snapped up, and he wanted to take a picture of your face again when your eyes met his.

“Oh my god… Oh god! Jay you… Oh god you’re awake!”

“Hey,” he smiled weakly when you jumped to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. You carefully grabbed his face, looking at him as if wanting to make sure it was really real.

“You’re awake… Oh fuck… How do you feel? God, you’re really awake.”

He chuckled, every muscle in his body aching. He raised a hand and placed it on yours, caressing it. “I’m fine, a little tired, but I’m fine now.”

And it was true. Even though everything hurt, even though he could barely keep his eyes open, even though even breathing felt like a stab, he truly was fine. Because you were there.

“I thought I lost you… I thought—” you whispered, but you stopped when he grabbed your hand, removing it from his cheek and bringing it to his lips before pressing a kiss.

“It takes more than that to finish me off, baby, you’ll never get rid of me.”

You chuckled through your tears. “Don’t ever do this shit to me ever again, you understand me?”

“Oh yes, ma’am, I’m not planning to get stabbed again, that’s enough,” he replied, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Can you hug me now?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. You won’t hurt me,” he whispered, “I need it, I need to hold you.”

You hesitated for a moment, and it was the cutest and, at the same time, the most painful thing he’d ever seen. He understood your hesitation, but he didn’t want to see it, he never wanted to see you hesitate to hug him.

You finally nodded. He felt the mattress shift when you sat on the edge of the bed, and your hands trembled when you hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around you, his hands clutching your shirt in a fist as if you were his lifeline, completely ignoring the pain in his side. God, holding you and smelling your scent was enough for him to make everything else fade into second place.

He exhaled, all the weight shifting off his shoulders, finally feeling at home.

He was so grateful to be able to hold you again, touch you, hear your voice, look at you.

“Fuck, I missed the way you stink,” he muttered, and his heart exploded when you laughed. Man, he loved the sound of your laughter so much he just wanted to record it so he could listen to it over and over again.

“Yeah, well, look who’s talking,” you replied, pulling away from the embrace, a small smile on your lips.

“Well, I’m justified, I’m hurt, I have the right to stink.”

“God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m so glad to even hear your insults.”

He chuckled. “I’m just getting started.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

The room seemed to fade into the background, the steady beeping of the monitor, the distant footsteps in the hallway, the hum of the machines, none of it mattered.

All Jay could see was you. The way your smile lingered, small and fragile, the way your eyes searched his face, as if you were still afraid he might disappear if you blinked.

He studied you like he had all the time in the world now.

The faint shadows under your eyes told him you hadn’t slept. Your hands were still trembling slightly, even though you were trying to hide it.

Jay lifted his hand, slow and careful, and brushed his thumb just beneath your eye, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed falling.

“Did you mean it?” He then found the courage to ask, his voice so low he couldn’t even hear himself.

Your smile grew a little bigger, letting him know you understood what he was referring to. “What? That I love you?”

His stomach twisted and his heart skipped a beat. He nodded feebly, the courage he’d previously found now completely gone. A second passed, the blink of an eye, but to him it seemed like an eternity.

He was terrified of your answer.

What if you’d backtracked? What if you’d only said it out of concern? In the heat of the moment?

“Yes, I meant it,” you replied, lacing your fingers through his again. “I didn’t mean to tell you then, like that, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, but yes, detective, I really, really love you.”

A treacherous tear fell down his cheek, and in that moment, he realized he’d let himself be stabbed a thousand more times if it meant hearing you say that.

You loved him.

All this time pining away, trying not to ruin your relationship, trying to stay as close to you as possible without letting you know how he truly felt... And you loved him.

God, he felt so stupid.

It was your turn to wipe away his tears this time, your thumb caressing his cheek, looking at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I was terrified…” he finally found his voice. “I was afraid of dying and not being able to tell you how much I love you, so much it fucking hurts…”

He let out a breath, now like a raging river. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I feel so stupid now… All this time I tried to convince myself it was all in my head because I was terrified of losing you,” he reached up, cupping your face gently, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, memorizing every line, every tiny freckle, every little scar he’d always noticed but never told you how much they meant to him.

“I’ve been bottling it all in… Every look you gave me, every word, every stupid fight I started just to make you laugh or get a reaction. I’ve loved every second of it, even the pain, because it’s you… God, it’s always been you, and it’ll forever be you,” his voice got lower, more desperate, “and now you’re looking at me like this… Fuck… I can’t—”

Jay’s breath caught when you pressed your lips to his. Just like that, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It took him a few seconds to process what was happening.

You were kissing him.

You.

Were.

Kissing.

Him.

One second, he was drowning in his own thoughts, terrified of expressing his feelings and the next you were kissing him, your lips so warm and soft against his.

His brain short-circuited.

Your hands were cupping his face, your mouth was on his and you were really kissing him.

Holy shit.

His chest tightened so hard it hurt worse than any stab wound would ever.

A shaky breath left him and his hand came up on instinct, fingers curling gently in your hair, letting himself go completely. He kissed you back slowly, like this was something sacred, something he’d dreamed of for so long he’d convinced himself it’d never be real.

It was desperate, but it wasn't rushed, it was everything he’d ever wanted and never thought he’d be allowed to have.

All the time he was close to you, all the times he imagined what it’d be like to kiss you, what it’d feel like, nothing could compare to the explosion he felt.

He could feel you trembling against him, the way you lingered, like you were memorizing him the same way he was memorizing you, the taste and the feel of you, the fact that this was actually happening.

When you pulled back, just barely, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, breath uneven.

His heart was racing and the monitor expressed it.

There was a moment of silence that you broke, as only you knew how to.

“Wow, your breath really smells like shit.”

Jay burst into laughter but winced when a pang shot through his abdomen. “Fuck it hurts, stop making me laugh,” he said. “And yes baby, keep talking dirty to me.”

You laughed and Jay barely had time to recover from the fact that kiss when the door creaked open.

“Alright,” a familiar gravelly voice said, “I think that’s enough romance for one hospital room.”

Jay sighed, eyes still half-closed, forehead resting against yours. Of course.

You pulled back just in time to turn and see Voight standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always. Behind him, the rest of Intelligence hovered like old gossips.

Ruzek was the first to step in after Voight. “Damn, man,” he said, eyes flickering between the two of you. “You look like shit.”

Jay smiled. “Good to see you too, Adam.”

Burgess followed, softer, relief written all over her face. “We’re really glad you’re okay, Jay.”

“Yeah,” Atwater added, nodding. “You scared the hell out of us.”

And then there was Antonio, trying, and failing, to hide a grin as his gaze kept going back and fort between you and Jay. His eyes lingered on the way your hand was still tangled in Jay’s, like neither of you had even noticed it.

Jay noticed but he didn’t let go.

“Did we interrupt something lovebirds?” Antonio smirked.

“No.” “Actually yes.” You and Jay answered at the same time.

Voight cleared his throat. “Doctor says you’re going to be fine. Couple weeks of rest, no heroics.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s optional.”

Voight’s mouth twitched, just barely.

There was a beat of silence.

“Now kids,” Voight said, talking to the others, and raised his hands, palms facing up. “You know what to do.”

You and Jay exchanged a confused look as the rest of the team snorted, starting to pull out some money and placing it in Voight’s hands.

Jay stared. “What the hell is happening?”

Voight took the money calmly, like this was the most normal thing in the world and tucked it into his coat pocket.

Ruzek rubbed the back of his neck. “So. Uh. We had a bet.”

Jay groaned. “Of course you did.”

“A bet?” you repeated slowly. “About what?”

Kim winced apologetically. “About whether you two were ever going to end up together.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

Antonio shook his head. “Nope,” then added, “I said six months. Ruzek said never. Kim said you’d figure it out on your own.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “And Voight?”

He met Jay’s gaze evenly and then looked at you. “I said it’d only happen if one of you almost died.”

Silence.

You stared at him. Jay stared at him. The heart monitor filled the space with its steady beeping.

“Oh…” Jay said weakly, “that’s fucked up.”

Voight shrugged. “I know my detectives.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re all unbelievable.”

“Get some rest, Halstead.” Voight said and then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And try not to get stabbed again. I’m not betting on round two.”

Voight walked out of the room and the rest of the team took turns hugging Jay.

You sat next to him, fingers intertwined as your teammates gave both you and Jay shit.

And for the first time in a very long time, he felt like that—despite what happened—everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

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