Breaking Point
Y/N Halstead has been pushing herself to the breaking point, eventually, she can't do it anymore. Will her brothers be able to help her rebuild and teach her it's ok to not be, ok?
Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, fainting, blood, self-injury (minor), anxiety, emotional distress, dissociation.
Y/N Halstead had been feeling off all day.
There was a subtle tightness in her chest from the moment she woke up. A pressure. Not painful, not alarming. Just… heavy. But she ignored it. Because she had things to do. A full day of classes, studying for her CCMA Certification exam, a closing shift at her restaurant job.
Always something.
Always moving.
Because if she kept moving, maybe her world wouldn't give in on her.
Her brothers, Will and Jay, had been worried. She brushed them off like she always did. "I'm fine," she said that morning. "Just tired."
But the thing about constantly carrying weight is that eventually, you drop it, and you never know when it will happen.
It started in her favorite class. Medical Assisting.
The heaviness in her chest had turned into shallow breaths. Then the chest pressure spread, like an invisible hand pushing down on her lungs. Her hands trembled, and the room began to tilt.
She didn’t know what to do. She ran.
Jay was sitting at his desk at the Precinct, when he got the call from an unknown number.
“Halstead.” He answered.
“Hi. Detective Halstead. This is Mrs. Nalton from the Vocational Center. I just wanted to let you know that Y/N ran out of class very abruptly. I just wanted to make sure she was ok.” She stated, genuine concern in her voice.
“Oh wow, that is not like her at all. Thanks for letting me know.” He ended the call without so much as a goodbye.
He got up from his desk and went to Voight. “Sarge, Ive gotta take a personal. Y/N’s teacher just called. She ran out of class.”
Voight looked up at him in shock. “Go. Keep us posted.” He said with no hesitation.
Jay nodded and ran. He called Will as he did. “Will, be ready outside Med. Its Y/N.” No further statement was needed. Jay got in his truck and gunned it towards Med.
Y/N didn't even know how she drove home, but she did.
Get water, her brain said. Water will help.
She stumbled through the door, into the kitchen, her vision doubling, black creeping in at the edges. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, each beat a frantic warning.
By the time she reached the sink, she was gasping, each breath more difficult than the last.
And then the floor rushed up to meet her, the last thing she heard was the shattering of the glass she tried to grab.
Will and Jay arrived, Jay barely putting the car in park before he was out of the truck, Will hot on his heels.
The first red flag was that the front door was ajar.
"That isn't like her at all," Jay muttered as they entered the apartment.
"Not at all," Will replied, already concerned. He dropped his keys. "Y/N?"
No answer.
Jay reached the kitchen first.
And he froze.
"WILL!"
Y/N lay crumpled on the floor. Her skin pale, her breaths shallow and fast. One hand was curled toward her chest. There was broken glass nearby and blood on her palm.
Will dropped beside her, instinct kicking in.
"Y/N, hey!" he called. She didn’t respond.
He pinched her trapezius. Nothing.
Then he did a sternal rub—knuckles against her sternum, hard. Her eyes fluttered open at the pain stimulus, but they were glassy, unfocused.
"There she is," Will breathed.
"What—what happened to her?" Jay asked, voice cracking.
"Panic attack. A bad one," Will said. "Help me lay her flat"
But as they tried to help her to her back, Y/N flinched violently.
"No… no, don't touch me!" she cried out, eyes wide with terror.
"Y/N, it’s us," Jay said quickly, kneeling next to her. "It’s me. Jay. You’re safe."
She pushed his hands away, barely coherent. "I can’t breathe… can’t—"
"Will," Jay said urgently.
"She's combative," Will murmured. "We need to ground her."
Jay didn't hesitate. He sat her up, pulled her into a tight bear hug from behind, arms wrapped securely around her, anchoring her like he had when she was little and scared after nightmares.
"You’re okay," he whispered into her hair. "I got you. We got you."
She struggled for a moment, then slowly melted into his hold, sobbing, shaking, and hyperventilating.
Will took her hand that wasn't bleeding and held it to his chest. “Y/N, sweetheart, listen to me, and follow my breathing.” He said as he started to take deep, exaggerated breaths.
Once her breathing was under control, Will grabbed a towel and gently wrapped her bleeding hand. "Just a small cut. We’ll take care of it."
He helped them move to the couch. Jay held her while Will cleaned the wound.
"You fainted," Will told her gently. "You were hyperventilating. Do you remember?"
She nodded weakly.
"It’s okay now," Jay said, brushing hair from her face. "You’re not alone."
"I’m fine," she whispered a few minutes later.
Will froze. Jay sat up.
Will looked up, eyes shadowed. "Y/N…"
"I’m okay. I just—needed a moment. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s nothing."
Jay stood fast. He started pacing.
Then turned. "Don’t you dare say it’s nothing."
She shrank into the couch.
Jay crouched in front of her. "We walked in and found you on the floor, barely breathing. There was blood. You didn’t know where you were. And you think we’re just gonna let that go?"
Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to flow over again.
Will’s voice was softer, but no less pained. "Y/N… you ran out of class. Your teacher called us. That’s not ‘fine.’ That’s not ‘a moment.’ You’re not okay, and it’s okay to say that."
Jay sat beside her again, not touching her yet.
Will leaned forward. "You know what kills me? I see patients like this every day. People who push themselves too far, who hold it in until their bodies give out. And I didn’t see it in my own sister."
Y/N’s lip quivered.
"I should’ve noticed," Will said. "The late nights. The way you brush us off. You’re so damn good at pretending. You didn’t have to be."
"I didn’t want to be a burden," she choked out.
Jay swore and pulled her into his arms. "You could never be a burden."
She broke.
Sobs wracked her frame, raw and shattering. Jay held her tighter. Will wrapped an arm around both of them.
"You’re ours," Will said. "There is nothing you could go through that we wouldn’t want to help you with."
"I thought… if I just worked harder… kept pushing… I could hold it together."
Jay tucked her hair behind her ear. "You’ve been holding the world on your shoulders. You never had to."
Jay helped her to the bathroom, sat on the floor while she washed her hands. When she couldn’t dry them, he did it for her.
Will brought her a sweatshirt from her childhood—soft, oversized, familiar. He helped her into it.
They settled her on the couch. Water. Weighted blanket. Quiet.
After a long silence:
"I’ve been having attacks like that for a while."
Will didn’t look surprised. Just sad. "How long?"
"Weeks. Maybe longer. This one was… different. I couldn’t stop it."
Jay’s jaw ticked. "We’re getting you help. No arguing."
"I know," she said. "I want to."
Will looked stunned for a second, then nodded.
Later, she lay curled under the blanket, Will on the floor beside her, Jay at the other end of the couch with his hand resting on her ankle like an anchor.
Almost asleep, she heard it again:
"Don’t break. Don’t break. Don’t break."
But something had shifted.
"You broke. But they were there. And you’re still here."
She let herself breathe.
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